

### The Devil's in My Bathroom

### Eddie Latiolais

Copyright © 2015 by Eddie Latiolais

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, character, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover designed by Richard Sibley

http://forgottenarts.deviantart.com

### TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue: The History of New Lake City

Chapter One: Waking Up is Hard to Do

Chapter Two: Bawling Benny

Chapter Three: The Devil's Triangle

Chapter Four: Dynamic Debbie

Chapter Five: Bumbled Beginnings

Chapter Six: Pizza for All

Chapter Seven: Elderberry Whine

Chapter Eight: The Cassette Tape

Chapter Nine: 70's Flashback

Chapter Ten: Sergeant Pepper

Chapter Eleven: Stormy Monday

Chapter Twelve: Don't Touch Gerome

Chapter Thirteen: The Name Game

Chapter Fourteen: Mr. Rogers

Chapter Fifteen: Lights Out

Chapter Sixteen: Balls and Burgers

Chapter Seventeen: Nick and the Smart Hookers

Chapter Eighteen: Like a Fine Wine

Chapter Nineteen: The Journey Begins

Chapter Twenty: Such Nice Boys

Chapter Twenty-One: Line, Please

Chapter Twenty-Two: Sweet Shanice

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Dark Seduction

Chapter Twenty-Four: You Talking to Me?

Chapter Twenty-Five: Genuine Blues

Chapter Twenty-Six: Little Italy, Big Meal

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Peanut Butter Kisses

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Kitchen Help

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Hot Sand

Chapter Thirty: Sail On, Sailor

Chapter Thirty-One: Mama's Been Around

Chapter Thirty-Two: Getting Some

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Godfather XVI

Chapter Thirty-Four: Andie Learns the Game

Chapter Thirty-Five: Holiday Inn Hell

Chapter Thirty-Six: Fire and Water DO Mix

Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Sultry Songstress

Chapter Thirty-Eight: In the Land of Oz

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Know Where You Got Your Shoes

Chapter Forty: When in Gerome

Chapter Forty-One: The Conning Linguist

Chapter Forty-Two: The Grand Pooper Scooper

Chapter Forty-Three: Who Says You Can't Go Home

Chapter Forty-Four: Sixteen Good Reasons

Chapter Forty-Five: Bless Me Father

Chapter Forty-Six: Tragedy in New Lake

Chapter Forty-Seven: Satan's Girlfriend

Chapter Forty-Eight: All the Ducks in a Row

Chapter Forty-Nine: Bottom's Out

Chapter Fifty: Jamaica Me Crazy

Chapter Fifty-One: Naked

Chapter Fifty-Two: Kat Calling

Chapter Fifty-Three: Mile High Demon

Chapter Fifty-Four: Bleached Blonde Bombshell

Chapter Fifty-Five: Love Blender

Chapter Fifty-Six: Song Stuck in Your Head

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Hey Bartender

Chapter Fifty-Eight: Great Balls of Fire

Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Hand Out

Chapter Sixty: The Rolls Royce

Chapter Sixty-One: Camera One, Camera Two

Chapter Sixty-Two: Flat-line

Chapter Sixty-Three: Hospitable Nick

Chapter Sixty-Four: Kat Nipped

Chapter Sixty-Five: Love and Hate

Chapter Sixty-Six: All Hell Breaks Loose

About the Author

### Prologue: _The History of New Lake City_

In 1859, Bartholomew Rollins, an aspiring young explorer, decided to move somewhere – anywhere - west of the Mississippi River. He was determined to escape from the turmoil of the impending Civil War. With the dream of creating a perfect paradise, he set out on foot with a loaded backpack. He was an adventurous trailblazer. He was a profound visionary. He was a lousy explorer. He spent months lost beyond belief. One day, he came across a beautiful, serene lake. It bore no resemblance to the life he left behind. He saw no signs of inhabitants and decided that this would be the place to start his project. There was one problem – he had no idea where he was. He spent the next day creating a temporary residence for himself. After gathering some food items to get him through the next few days, he saw a man and a woman in the woods coming towards him. Instead of reaching for his gun, Bartholomew extended his hand towards the couple. They were happy to see a friendly face. The man introduced himself as Martin Ratzenburger. He was a Jewish immigrant who had been ostracized by his people for marrying his wife, Mary Elizabeth, who was a former nun. They were looking for the same utopia as Bartholomew.

Unlike Bartholomew, the Ratzenburgers had a good idea where they were. Martin was a lawyer who practiced territorial law and knew the area was unclaimed. There were no maps or records showing this lake ever existed. Together, all three started a small community around the lake. A Native American by the name of Black Sheep soon discovered this new haven. He was sensitive to their project. His own tribe ousted him for breaking bread with a white man. He knew the area well but had never seen this lake before. Together, they were able to spread the word about their community. Before long, many people of all races and nationalities inhabited the land around the discovered lake. It was named New Lake Township and Bartholomew Rollins was elected as the mayor. The area encircling the lake became overcrowded in a short amount time. Bartholomew and Martin decided to expand the living territory. There was one part of the lake where no one had staked a claim. It had a tiny creek, which fed into the lake, covered by thick brush of vines and poison ivy. They ventured out one day with their machetes. They had chopped away for about a mile when they came across a cabin in the thick of the woods. They had crept up to the front door when they heard an eerie voice come from behind them.

"What in the hell are you doing on my property?" asked the tall, shady figure.

Bartholomew retained his composure and replied, "My name is Bartholomew Rollins. I'm the mayor of New Lake Township."

"So, you are the one to blame for that abomination," complained the man.

"That's not quite the words I would use to describe it."

"Well, I certainly do. I was perfectly content living here by myself. Now, you come along with your rainbow of families, destroying everything I've been working on."

"My apologies, Mr. – I didn't get your name."

"My name is Ivan Mephesto Deville. This is my property. You must leave, now. My plan does not call for people like you living here."

"But, wouldn't you consider joining our community?" asked Martin.

"Yes, wouldn't you? We could use an experienced trapper like you," added Bartholomew.

"I never said I was a trapper. What makes you believe that?"

"I could tell by all those bones you have stacked up there near the corner of your cabin," said Bartholomew, as he pointed to the pile. He assumed they were animal bones.

"I would like you to leave, now," Deville declared.

"But, won't you even consider..."

Bartholomew was interrupted before he could finish.

"I said, leave now." The eyes of I. M. Deville seemed to catch on fire as he robbed the machete from the grasp of Bartholomew, and with one sweeping motion – he cut off the head of Bartholomew Rollins. Martin raised his own machete in feeble attempt to fight back. Deville swung and hit Ratzenburger, chopping off the hand, which was holding the indefensible weapon. Martin ran as fast as possible. He gathered a posse of fifty men and they hurried back to the cabin. When they arrived, all traces of Deville were gone. The cabin was empty, the pile of bones was gone, and the head of Bartholomew Rollins was gone as well. All that remained was the headless body, which lay still next to Ratzenburger's severed hand.

"With Moses as my witness," proclaimed the enraged Ratzenburger, "I will someday avenge the death of this great man – the founder of our community. His vision will not die with him." He claimed the cabin and land as his own. He burned down the cabin and named the oversized ditch Deville Creek. He wanted the name to be remembered as a constant reminder of the evil that existed among them.

The ensuing years were not kind to Martin Ratzenburger. Even after becoming the new mayor of New Lake Township and becoming the father of two sons – he couldn't live with the guilt of seeing Bartholomew Rollins die in front of him. He also knew he wouldn't be able to find I. M. Deville in his lifetime. The shame he felt for not being able to save his friend's life was unbearable. He hung himself from a tree on the same spot Rollins was murdered. In his suicide note, he reinstated his vow to seek vengeance for Rollins' death. He also proclaimed that in his afterlife, he would rid the town of evil.

New Lake Township prospered after the Civil War. Many years later, a university was founded and named after Bartholomew Rollins. The town grew by leaps and bounds into the new century. It thrived through WWI, the Great Depression, and WWII. It became New Lake City in 1959, in honor of the city's Centennial. It always managed to stay in virtual obscurity compared to other great cities in the county. By 1990, the population had reached 350,000. In a survey of the nations top high school honor students, only five percent knew what state New Lake City was located. A top-rated law firm, Rollins University, and a somewhat famed record company were the only things that distinguished New Lake City from any other cookie cutter metropolis. Throughout all the years, there remained an ominous feeling of evil trying to control the city.

CHAPTER ONE: _Waking Up is Hard to Do_

"Is that you, Satan?" asked Nick Peltier, as he searched his bathroom for the source of the satanic voice he was hearing.

"Maybe," said the voice. "Who would you like me to be?"

"You sound like a hooker," said Nick.

"I could be that – if you'd like."

"What I would like you to be is gone. Why do you keep screwing with me?" asked an anxious Nick.

"Because you're such an easy target."

"What do you mean?"

"You're so much fun to toy with. I like that you are so frightened of me," said the voice.

"I'm not afraid of you. You just keep pissing me off."

"You are so entertaining. I can frighten you at the drop of a hat."

"Oh yeah? Prove it," said Nick. He was tired of these occurrences. He needed validation.

"Right now?" asked the ominous voice.

"Yeah, asshole. What can you do right now that would terrify me?"

"I can tell you that someone you know was just murdered."

"So what? Those are just words. It's creepy, but it doesn't scare me," said Nick, as he continued his conversation with this gender-neutral voice.

"You're right. You can't see the body." The voice made a grunting sound and in a split second flash of light, an image of a lifeless body muddled across Nick's vision.

"It looked like Zipper Down," replied Nick.

"You know this person, correct?"

"He's a drummer. He always looks like that when he's not behind his drum set."

"You didn't notice how he appeared to be dead?"

"Sure. Like I just said, that's normal for him. He may have seemed a little more pale than usual. Probably body make-up. He's into that sort of thing." He was proud of himself that he was holding his composure while talking to the Dark One.

"Oh, Nicholas. You are more problematic than usual. Okay. Let me think - I have one. I can make the sound of a telephone ringing so loud, you would think it was actually in your ear." Nick heard the sound. The voice was right. The volume increased with each ring.

"Make it stop," cried Nick, as he heard the sound of demonic laughter fade away. All of his composure just flew out the open window. The ringing continued. He opened his eyes and realized his phone in fact was ringing. The early afternoon light resembled a laser as it burst through his bedroom window in a direct path to his eyes. He grabbed the receiver, slammed it down, and then hurled the entire phone across his bedroom, yanking the cord from the wall in the process. His throbbing head was somewhat relieved that he was just dreaming about Satan – again. He pulled the worn out comforter back over his head. The phone in the living room started ringing.

"Shut up, you piece of shit," he yelled to no avail. The ringing would not stop. He threw back the covers and stumbled to the front room, crunching some stale corn chips and kicking an empty beer can out of the way. He stubbed his little toe on the coffee table, knocking over an empty pizza box. Nick moved his brand new issue of Playboy, which was opened to the centerfold of Miss April 1994, and found his other phone underneath. His subscription to the magazine was the longest commitment to anything he had ever had.

"What?" he yelled, as he clutched the handset. He was unmindful of his position next to an open second floor window, even with the cool breeze caressing his naked backside.

"Good morning, Nick," said the soothing, sweet voice of his friend, Debbie. "Hope I didn't wake you."

"I had to get up to answer the phone anyway," he said, as he heard the giggles of two Rollins University coeds who were strolling by his open second floor window. Realizing he was naked, he stooped down, turned around to smile at the ladies, then closed the blinds.

"What time do you want us to come over?" asked Debbie.

"What do you mean by us?"

"Tony, Andie, Benny, and myself. You invited us over for gumbo. Don't you remember?"

"Of course I do," said Nick. He put his hand over the mouthpiece and mumbled, "Shit." He took his hand off and said, "Come on over anytime. I'll have it ready."

"Okay, we'll see you in a bit."

"Oh, wait a second, Debbie," Nick said before giving her a chance to hang up. "Did I hang out with you and Tony last night?"

"You're so silly. You know you were too busy to hang out with us last night," she said. "By the way, how did it go?"

"Uh, fine," said Nick. He had no clue what Debbie was talking about.

"We'll talk more about it when we get there. I have some great news. Ciao." The click of the phone hanging up reverberated in his ears. His hangover intensified as he heard the loud knock at the front door. He moved an empty rum bottle aside with his foot as he shuffled to the door. As he moved his long, wavy brown hair away from his eyes, he opened it wide. Standing there was his best friend, Andie Jenson. Once again, he forgot he had not a stitch of clothing on. Andie was holding two large paper bags of groceries in her arms and could see Nick only from the neck up.

"God, you look horrible," said Andie, as she peeked over the top of the grocery bags she was carrying. Nick's swollen eyes, draped by puffy bags, were in her view.

"Good morning to you, too," said Nick.

"It's not morning, it's – would you please grab these bags? These chickens, sausage, and onions you asked me to pick up are pretty heavy." Nick grabbed the bags and turned towards the dining table, exposing his naked backside to Andie. She turned away in awkwardness and saw a sight even more disturbing.

"My, God, Nick. Just look at this place. It's repulsive. You promised me you would have it cleaned up by the time everybody got here." She turned to Nick, who was now facing her. "And please put on some clothes." She tried to remain focused on his puffy, bloodshot eyes. Nick looked on his kitchen floor and found his robe, lying next to an almost empty box of fried chicken. He put it on and walked over to Andie.

"You don't have to get your panties in a knot," he said. "I'll have everything picked up by the time everybody gets here."

"That's what you said last time. Don't you remember? I was stuck cleaning your apartment for your guests while you were passed out in the bathtub."

"Whose idea was it to have this stupid dinner, anyway?"

"I do believe it was yours."

"I must have been really messed-up at the time."

"Is there a time when you aren't?" asked Andie, as she began surveying the damage of what appeared to be a simulated war zone.

"Come on, Andie. Give me a break," pleaded Nick.

"I'm sorry, Nick. I don't know why I even bother to stay friends with you. My father warned me to never trust a musician."

"Hey, I'm not just a musician. I'm a talent scout, recording engineer, and..."

"Always wasted. I really don't have time to be here. I have to get ready for my first case on Tuesday." She reluctantly picked up an almost empty wine glass with two fingertips and noticed a lipstick stain.

"I thought you've been practicing law for a whole year," said Nick.

"It's my first case to actually be the first chair attorney for Wainwright and Grimes. I'll be heading an entire team."

"So that's why you're so uptight right now. I thought it had to do with you not getting laid in such a long time."

"Come on, Nick. I don't have time for your smart-alecky remarks. I can hear you already have your shower water running, so go in there and get yourself cleaned up. I'll put on a pot of coffee."

Nick turned towards the bathroom and replied, "I didn't turn my shower on this morning." The harsh reality of soberness was starting to kick in. Andie looked down on the floor and picked up a pair of cherry-red, lace panties.

"I supposed you started wearing these now," she said.

"They're not mine," rebuffed Nick.

"I sure hope not." Andie and Nick turned their heads towards the bathroom door as it opened and released a beautiful blond vixen. Her long hair was towel-dried as she slithered into the room in her wrinkled, black party dress. The halter design did its best to cover her well-endowed chest. The tightness revealed the fact she was wearing no underwear, which Andie noticed.

"Oh, there they are," said the cheerful blond. She walked over to Andie and grabbed the panties from her hand. She strolled to Nick and handed him the panties. "I want you to have these as a reminder of the wonderful night we had," she said. She kissed Nick right on the lips, oblivious to the fact that his breath could kill a cactus at twenty feet. "I left the shower running so you can get yourself cleaned up, you nasty boy." She sashayed to the front door and turned around before leaving. "You were awesome, Nick. Call me." She closed the door, leaving an astounded look on Andie's face.

Nick looked at Andie and said, "See. I told you they weren't mine."

"Well, they are now," replied Andie. "Who was that?"

"Her? She, uh – oh, yeah, she's my maid." It would take a better performance than this to convince the analytical Andie. Andie took a step back, crunching some potato chips in the process, and looked around the apartment.

"You expect me to believe you have a maid?"

Nick shook his head. "She's not a very good one?"

Tired of Nick's usual procrastination, Andie bluntly asked, "Nick – who was that girl?"

"I have no idea," he answered, shaking his perplexed head.

"Is it possible you picked her up at the party last night?"

Nick thought for second and answered, "What party?"

"The one you were supposed to attend for your record company last night. Don't you remember?"

Nick woke up another notch as he recalled the party. "Oh yeah, now that you mention it, I think I did go to a party last night."

Andie stared at Nick in anticipation. "Well?"

Embarrassed, Nick replied, "I don't remember a thing about it."

Andie mounted her high horse. "You know, Nick, I'm really getting worried about you. You go out and drink your beer, your wine, your bourbon, your rum, your vodka, your tequila, your..."

"Whoa, hold on right there," interrupted Nick. "You know damn well I never – ever- drink vodka."

"Well, thank God you don't do drugs," said a concerned Andie.

"You're right, there. That was so seventies."

"Hey, the seventies weren't that bad. That's when disco was born," Andie replied about her favorite guilty pleasure music.

"You didn't have to live through it. It was total hell. That's the crap that was playing when..." Nick suddenly stopped talking. His eyes glazed over for a couple of seconds than he came back to the moment, "Never mind," he mumbled.

"When?" asked Andie.

"When what?"

"You said it was playing when – then you said to never mind."

"Right – like I said – never mind."

"I really hate when you do that, Nick. You start to tell me things, and when they get too personal, you stop – or change the subject completely."

Nick stalled for a few seconds, then added, "Is that a new hairstyle?"

"No. It's the same hairstyle I've been having for two months. This is exactly what I'm talking about. When are you going to straighten out your life?"

Nick lost control. Being questioned about anything in his condition was too much to handle. He reached to the bookcase to pick up the nearest thing to him. It was a half-empty beer can. He threw it down as hard as he could to express his anger. A drop of beer shot across the room and landed on his Stratocaster, his prized guitar that was signed by Jimi Hendrix. He dashed to the guitar to wipe off the beer drop. He was still holding the lace panties, which he used to clean his beloved possession. It was the only object in the apartment that was always kept clean. He let out a sigh of relief as he threw the panties on the couch.

"That was a close one," he said. "Oh, yeah," he remembered. "I just got pissed-off at you - why?" As he turned around, he noticed Andie wasn't there. Andie had gone in the bathroom to turn off the shower. It was driving her crazy.

She came back out and asked, "Seriously, Nick \- when are you going to straighten out your godforsaken life?"

"Look, Andie. I like my life. I don't need anybody telling me how to live it. I'll take suggestions, not orders, from Benny - only because he's my boss. Okay - maybe sometimes I get so wasted that I can't remember some of the things I do. Who cares? I have no worries, little responsibilities, and I like it that way." He thought for a second as he cooled down then mumbled, "Well, maybe I have a couple of worries."

Andie was afraid to ask. "What are they?"

"They what?"

"What are your worries?"

"I just told you. I don't have any."

"But, then you said you had maybe a couple."

"Wow," said the amazed Nick. "I guess you really do listen when I talk." He took a deep breath and mumbled, "I think somebody is out to kill me."

"What on Earth are you talking about?" asked a baffled Andie.

Nick was hesitant, but went on. "Well – okay. Here it goes. Last month – during one of my moments of – how would you say it?"

"Weakness, bewilderment, confusion, being in a drunken stupor..." Andie could go on for days.

"Let's just go with weakness," interrupted Nick.

"Which is about ninety-percent of the time."

"Will you please shut up for one minute?" Nick was having a hard time with this and Andie wasn't going to make it any easier. In fact, he always had trouble talking to Andie about anything personal. She would talk to him about everything going on in her life. He was a great listener, if not just a good sounding board. Through his silent responses, Andie felt like she got to know him better than if he would verbally open up to her. He was also always there for her. "Okay, last month, I was strolling downtown and happened to come across some kind of health fair. I got talked into signing an organ donor card."

"Was she cute?" asked Andie.

"Who?"

"The girl who talked you into signing the card."

"I never said it was a girl."

Andie crossed her arms and gave Nick her best stare. "Nick – I know you."

"Okay – You do know me. She had nice, uh, hair. Anyway, I signed this card – which, by the way, was pretty stupid considering I didn't even get her phone number. You know what? I don't have a clue why I signed it. Oh, well - it's too late now."

Andie was confused. "So some random girl got you to sign an organ donor card. What has all this got to do with you thinking somebody wants to kill you?"

"Think about it," said Nick. "After I did it, I started thinking that there's some rich kid out there, who needs some kind of organ - whose dad is in the mob, or IRS, or the CEO of Wal-Mart, or something like that. They probably have connections with organizations that get other people to sign cards so they can arrange them to die some kind of untimely death. This is so his stupid, lazy-ass kid can get a kidney, or heart, or liver, or – you know – anything they can get from a newly deceased corpse. And to make matters worse..."

Andie was dumfounded, "What?"

"I signed it on a full moon."

"That is – by far - the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard you say," said Andie. "The whole premise is crazy enough, but what would a full moon have to do with it?"

"You're not a superstitious woman, are you?"

"Not usually."

"Well, if you make a commitment on a full moon, breaking it would mean certain death."

"Nick, if somebody was taking your organs, wouldn't you already have been dead?"

"Exactly. You see my point?"

"Wow," said Andie. She prepared herself for another long, preposterous, remark. "What is the other worry you have?"

"It's the fact that Satan lives next door," said Nick, without hesitation.

Andie was surprised. "You mean Tony?" she asked.

"Antonio Satanelli. The name says it all."

"Nick, Tony graduated with a masters degree in Theology at a Christian university."

"Exactly. What a perfect cover."

Andie went to Tony's defense. "Are you out of your mind? Tony happens to be one of the sweetest, most sincere men I have ever met in my entire life."

Nick justified his fear. "Look – only the Devil himself would go through eighteen years of private school, only to work the late shift at a 7-Eleven, and charge three dollars and fifty cents for a loaf of bread while he's earning his doctorate in Theology at a university whose mascot is the Demons."

"Well, if you're so afraid of Tony, how come you always hang out with him?" she asked.

"He lives right next door and dates Debbie. She's my friend. If you were dating Tom Hanks, I'd probably hang out with him, too," said an embarrassed Nick.

Andie stood there, mouth agape, then shook her head with the reply, "Of all the names to come up with, why Tom Hanks?"

"I'm just saying it doesn't matter who my friends date. If they are with that person, I'll accept that and treat them like a friend, too."

"But what made you say Tom Hanks in the first place." Andie was amazed by Nick's unpredictability.

"I saw the way you looked at him when we saw the Forrest Gump trailer last week. You went on and on about how much you loved Tom Hanks. That preview creeped me out."

"I'm just dumbfounded here," said Andie. "I thought you liked it."

"I only said that because I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I meant to say that it looked like a movie you would probably want to see." Nick and Andie were movie buddies. They went to one with each other about twice a month.

"Why didn't you just say so in the first place?"

"Like I said, I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"Well, it wouldn't have, but you have no problem telling me this now."

"Look, I didn't think he'd win the Oscar for Philadelphia. Now he's just pissing me off."

"So your problem is with Tom Hanks?" asked Andie.

"I have no problem with Tom Hanks. I'm sure he's a nice guy."

"But if he would get nominated for Forrest Gump and win again, you would be even more upset, right?"

"Like that would ever happen. No. I would be happy for the guy," chuckled Nick. "Life is like a box of chocolates," he said, trying to imitate Tom Hank's southern drawl used in the movie. "Give me a break."

"You – are – so - weird," replied Andie.

"Whatever. Hey, what's in the bags?" He wanted the subject changed.

"Like I told you when I walked in, it's the chicken and sausage you asked me to pick up for the gumbo – which you were supposed to have half-way cooked by now. Do you realize everyone will be getting here soon?" asked Andie. Nick knew when he was beat.

"What the hell," said Nick. "Let me put on a pot of coffee so I can get my act together, so we can party on."

"Oh, no, my friend. I'll make the coffee and you can start cleaning this pig sty." Andie, as always, took control of the situation. Nick looked around at the monumental mess. This was not going to be an easy job.

CHAPTER TWO: _Bawling Benny_

Benny Meyers was born in Boston. His father was Chief of Surgery at Massachusetts General Hospital and his mother was a professor at MIT. A Jamaican nanny, Miss Lucy, raised him, and he spent little time with his elusive parents. His small physique made him the favorite target of the prep school bullies. Girls he liked would think of him as cute but would go for the typical athletic type. The chess club thought of him as an intellectual inferior. The potheads didn't think he was cool enough. Any sports activities were out of the question because of his acute asthma. His parents denounced him when decided he wanted to get into the music business. Although he had a great ear for music, he couldn't play an instrument to save his life. His singing voice sounded like a wounded coyote. He was, however, always fascinated with the ins and outs of the business. He would be on his own without any financial help from his wealthy parents. Miss Lucy always told him he would go through much heartache before finding the right woman. Benny's problem was finding any woman.

"Did you talk to Benny last night?" asked Andie. Nick was already filling up his third bag with trash.

"No, I haven't seen him in a couple of days."

"He was at the party last night."

"The only thing I remember about the party is that I was there – at least that's what people keep telling me."

"Well, Benny called me up at two-o'clock this morning in complete hysterics," explained Andie. "He and his girlfriend were at the party last night and she walked away to get a drink. Benny said he never saw her after that. Somebody told him they thought they saw her leaving with one of the members of the band."

"That probably would have to be the drummer," said Nick. "He'll screw anything that moves."

"And you're one to talk," said Andie.

"Hey, I have morals."

"And they're all low."

Nick thought for a second. Andie was right. He did have low morals, but he did have this saving grace. "At least I have some."

Andie shook her head in disgust. "Well, Benny is an emotional wreck right now and needs you to help him through this. He considers you his best friend and will listen to any advice you can give him."

"If I'm his best friend, I'd hate to see his enemies." He continued to pick up the trash when he remembered his dream. The image of the apparent dead drummer was Zipper Down, the Cramping Violets drummer. This was the band that had the record release party the previous night. Nick was their manager and producer. His off-the-cuff remark about the drummer leaving the party with Benny's girlfriend was unmerited. He had no idea who the girl left with. The scenario possibilities, along with the excess alcohol, started to make him feel queasy.

"Excuse me. I'm feeling a little sick here," said Nick. He took off into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Andie smiled and muttered, "I knew he would do that. I know him so well." She had no idea about the satanic dreams.

A delicate thump of a knock was heard at the front door. Andie could barely hear it over the loud regurgitating sounds coming from the bathroom. She opened the door and saw another pitiful sight. It was Benny. He was standing there, unshaven, hair tousled, shirttail hanging out, and tie unknotted. He was well dressed most of the time but now looked like he could've been Nick's twin. The huge bags under his eyes were a sure sign he hadn't gotten any sleep. He hadn't even bothered to change from the night before. Andie let out a cheerful and sympathetic greeting.

"Hi, Benny. How are you?"

Benny gave her a half-hearted smile. "I'm fine," he said. This was followed by a big burst of tears and adolescent sobbing. He ran into Andie's outstretched arms for a comforting hug. "How could she do this to me?" he cried. "I gave her my heart, my love, my soul, my Lexus."

Andie interrupted, "Whoa, wait a second. You gave her your car? Are you nuts?"

"I can't live without her. She was my whole life."

Andie felt a little regret for calling him crazy. "I didn't realize she meant that much to you."

Benny stopped sobbing long enough to say, "Today would have been our anniversary – one whole month."

Andie started laughing. "One whole month? My, God, you make it sound like a lifetime"

"That's not funny," he said, as he pulled away from the hug. "She was perfect for me, and if you ever would've met her, you'd understand why."

"I'm sorry, Benny. I've been meaning to ask you that. How come I've never met her?"

"She was kind of cautious about meeting my friends, but she promised me she would come over today and meet all of you. I guess that's not going to happen," he said.

Andie, realizing how suspicious that sounded, asked, "Did Nick ever meet her?"

Benny mumbled, "He would have met her at the party last night, but from what I've heard, he didn't stay there long. It doesn't matter. It's all over now."

Andie knew Benny needed some male bonding. "It'll be all right, Benny. Nick will give you all the support you need. He always knows just what to say."

Benny looked confused. "Are you talking about the same Nick I know?"

Nick walked out the bathroom, took a look at Benny, and said, "Man, you look like shit."

Benny responded, "Thanks, buddy. That's just what I need to hear right now."

Nick looked over Benny's shoulder and saw himself in a Budweiser logo mirror. It was one of many pub accessories used to decorate his home.

"Man, I look like shit, too," Nick said. He was starting to wake up another level.

Benny started sniffling, and muttered in a soft tone, "Kat left me." Andie walked to the kitchen, leaving Nick and Benny alone.

"See, I told you to get a dog," said Nick.

"No, you idiot. Kat, my girlfriend," cried Benny.

"Oh, yeah. I heard she left with the drummer," Nick said. "At least that's the current rumor going around." The unfounded rumor he just made up.

Benny got defensive, "Well, if it was the drummer, it was with the drummer of the band you signed."

"Hey, don't try to pin this one on me, man. I signed them for their musical talent, not their social behavior."

"I want you to release them," added Benny.

"Look, man, you can't fire a band just because you think one of the members did your girlfriend."

"Sure I can," said Benny. "After all, I am the boss."

"Benny, be rational," said Nick. "The Cramping Violets are a great band. You've been on my ass for months, to sign a band that could sell records and draw crowds. Well, I found one. They're even from New Lake City. Do you know how much money I'm saving the company? You didn't have to fly me all over the country looking for them. Now that we've got them, you want to get rid of them because your ego is hurt?"

"It's a lot more than just my ego that's hurt," bawled Benny. "And if you were so interested in seeing this band make it, how come you didn't stay at their album release party last night?"

Nick was ashamed. "To be honest with you, I don't remember going or leaving."

Benny was making his point. "You claim they're such an incredible band and you're the person who signed them. You can't even remember their album release party. They don't need to be associated with Apocalypse Records."

"Look, Benny," defended Nick, "You're letting personal feelings get in the way of business. If you want to channel your anger, why not do it towards something positive and get back on track?" Benny was listening. Nick was making sense – which happened on rare occasions.

"How do you propose I do that?"

"Okay, here's what you do. You're going to go about your business no matter how much you think about – what's her name?"

"Kat"

"Yeah, right – Kat. You're not going to call her. Even if she calls you, you're not going to let her know how much you're hurting inside. That would just boost her ego. Don't give her that satisfaction. Don't let a girl, with a name like Kat, make you feel like a pussy. You're going to show her that you're the man, and nobody is going to treat you like this."

"I am?"

"Damn right, you are."

"I'm the man," Benny said, in the meekest of ways.

"Close enough," said Nick. Benny was changing his attitude.

"I'm the man. I am the man." A small amount of confidence started to fill his soul. He appreciated any amount of encouragement he could get. "You guys are great." He gave Andie a big hug as she returned from the kitchen, then turned to Nick to do the same.

Nick pushed him aside. "What is with you and all this hugging crap? Anyway, how are we going to know if we ever see Kat? We never met her."

"She works in the graphic arts department at Apocalypse," said Benny. "You're bound to run into her sooner or later, if you ever show up for actual work."

Andie was curious. "What does she look like? I mean – I'm not trying to pry, or anything like that. I just want to know in case I ever run into her."

Benny had no problem describing her. "Well, she's five-foot six, one hundred seventeen pounds, long wavy blond hair, which she parts on the right and hangs down to the middle of her chest. She has blue-green eyes, a pair of really nice – you know, a two-inch tattoo of a heart on her right shoulder – a double-pierced right ear, and a triple..."

Nick interrupted, "Okay, we get the picture." Somehow, he thought he had seen this woman being described. He looked at Andie. She also looked as if she had a clue.

"There's one more thing," added Benny. "She liked leaving her panties behind."

"What?" asked Nick.

"She would always leave a pair of panties behind – as a souvenir of a wonderful night. I have eight pairs collected."

Nick and Andie realized who Kat was. They both ran to the couch to grab the panties. Nick got to them first and hid them behind his back.

"What are you two doing," asked Benny.

Nick was trying to find words. "We – uh – we..."

"Thought we saw a quarter," said a quick-thinking Andie.

"Yeah," added Nick. "And it had the head side up – and uh, the first one to find a quarter with the head face up, uh..."

"Has to buy dinner," said a sweating Andie.

"Right," said Nick. "Hey, wait a second. Why would the first one to find it have to buy dinner? I mean – shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"Nick," muttered Andie through clinched teeth.

Benny looked at the two of them and said, "Man, you guys are weird."

"I've been called a lot worse," said Nick. "I got to go jump in the shower." He backed up into the bathroom and closed the door, clutching the panties behind him. At least he knew that she didn't commit the murder of Zipper Down, if indeed there was one.

Andie, trying to change the subject, told Benny, "Well, it looks like you're going to be okay. It'll just take a little time."

Benny was a lot better off than when he came in. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm really going to miss her, though. The sex was so good."

Andie took offense. "That is such a chauvinist remark. I swear - you and Nick are so much alike. I thought you were different, but obviously, I was wrong."

Benny had to object. "No, I'm not. There's a world of difference between Nick and myself. I can actually love a woman. Nick just uses them."

"Are you sure you really loved Kat? I mean, don't you think it was more like lust? She's an attractive woman and..."

"What do you mean by that?" Benny asked. "I thought you said you never met her."

"Well, you just described her in such detail. I could easily get a mental picture of her," Andie said.

"Oh, yeah," said Benny. "I forgot. However, I did love her. It hasn't happened that often, but when it does - I always fall fast and hard. I just don't have the same success when it comes to falling out of love. You know, sometimes I wish I were a little more like Nick. He never seems to get hurt."

"Don't be too sure about that," replied Andie. "I'm pretty sure Nick is hurting deep inside."

"What makes you say that?" asked Benny.

"Well, for instance, last week he talked me into seeing Ace Ventura: Pet Detective at the Downtown Sixteen Cinema."

"Did you get to see the preview for Forrest Gump?"

"Yea, why do you ask?"

"Apocalypse sold the producers the rights for one of the songs for the soundtrack. How was the trailer?" Benny was always thinking about business, no matter what his current crisis would be.

"Oh, I loved it. It looks like a fabulous film. Nick, on the other hand, thinks Tom Hanks hasn't made anything worthwhile since Bosom Buddies. Anyway, we bought a six-pack and decided to hang out at my apartment for a while, and to make a long story short; he ordered pizza while I went to bed. When I woke up the next morning, he was still up, talking to the pizza delivery guy. I could tell it was a personal conversation by the way it ended abruptly when I came into the living room."

Benny didn't follow what Andie was getting to. His confused puppy expression on his face led Andie to get to the point.

"You see, Benny, Nick can open up to a complete stranger but not to the people he's close to. He shuts down emotionally. You, on the other hand, will dive head first into a relationship without any regard to the consequences. You will eventually find happiness. At this rate, Nick will be lonely for a long time. Don't ever wish you were more like him. You'll end up being hurt a lot more than you are now."

Benny stared at Andie for a moment. Her ocean blue eyes pierced through his muddled brain. He started to look back at Nick's relationships since he met him. He never saw Nick with the same woman more than once. How could he possibly be happy without ever giving love a chance? Why am wishing that kind of life on me? Man, Andie makes a great case, he thought.

"You're right, Andie. You know, you're going to make a great lawyer. Thanks," said Benny.

"You're quite welcome, Benny," said Andie. She was glad she didn't tell Benny the whole story, as she thought back about that night...

"I don't understand this magazine," said Nick, as he flipped through the pages of a Cosmopolitan magazine at Andie's apartment. Ever the night owl, Nick had talked Andie into going to a late feature and hanging out afterwards, even though she needed to get to sleep early. "Why are they saying that it's okay to dump a guy if you get tired of him?" He threw the magazine on the solid oak coffee table in front of him. "This is the kind of crap that ruins men for life." He took his final sip of his fifth Heineken. Andie was sitting on her leather sofa across from Nick, reading her latest issue of Glamour. She took her fifth sip of her first Heineken.

"I can't believe you want me to even justify that one," said a bewildered Andie. "How many times have you dumped women after you got tired of them?"

"That's not the point, Andie. I don't even hang around long enough to get tired of them."

"Okay, let me ask you this – how many times have you been dumped?"

Nick looked like a deer caught in headlights. "I don't like this conversation anymore." He looked at his empty bottle, realizing the six-pack he brought was finished. "I'm going to the store for a beer run." He got up from the leather recliner, and made his way to the door. Andie got up and grabbed Nick.

"You're not going anywhere," she said. "You've had way too much to drink and you didn't answer my question."

Nick looked at Andie's hand holding his arm with a firm grip. He knew she meant business. "That's one question that I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might make me say something I don't really want to talk about. How's that for some legal mumbo-jumbo?" Nick was skirting the issue as best as possible. "The offense rests."

"That would be defense," said the ever-correcting Andie.

"Well, I take offense that you're correcting my defense," said an inebriated Nick.

"I'm sorry, Nick," she said. "You've had way too much to drink. Why don't you just stay here tonight?"

"You want me to spend the night here, with you?"

"On the couch," said Andie.

Feeling both disappointed and relieved, Nick agreed. "All righty then. I'm hungry. What you got to eat?" His New Orleans dialect popped out every once in a while. He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He found leftover salad, yogurt, apples, milk, orange juice, cheese, and various condiments. Looking in the freezer, he found six Weight Watchers dinners, frozen vegetables, and strawberry sherbet. "You don't have a damn thing to eat," he said.

Andie handed Nick the phone. "Send out for pizza. It's extremely late, I'm exhausted, and I'm going to bed. I have to be up in five hours." She opened her linen closet and pulled out a neatly folded blanket, a pillow, and a brand-new set of sheets. She placed them on the sofa and told Nick, "Make yourself at home. Goodnight."

Andie walked into her bedroom and closed the door. Looking at her bed, she noticed a file she needed to study for work, a hardcover John Grisham novel she was reading, and her beloved stuffed rabbit, Atticus Finch. With one swipe of her arm, she brushed everything to the floor, took off her clothes, and crawled under the covers. Before she fell asleep, she could hear Nick ordering a pizza. She knew he would be okay. She was in a deep sleep when she felt the tender touch of a hand on her shoulder. She felt a hot breath on the back of her neck. She couldn't move. The hand moved from her shoulder to the top of her breast. If she were going to object, now would be the time to do it. What in the world was happening to her? She felt another arm reach around to caress her quivering stomach, which was welcoming the touch. The hot breath on the back of her neck turned into soft kisses. Would she dare turn around and return the kiss? The caresses become stronger and she could feel his entire body against her. As she turned around to see him, she heard a voice say,

"...And a one hundred percent chance of the wet stuff, so wear your raincoats and bring out the umbrellas. What do you think about that, Jim?"

Another voice added, "Yeah, Carl, we like the wet stuff." The morning shock jocks were performing their usual suggestive banter. Andie slapped the snooze button on her clock radio with vengeance. The next voice she heard really was Nick's. She could hear him talking in the next room. She put on her silk robe and walked out into the front room. Nick was there, talking to the pizza guy.

"What are you doing awake at five forty-five in the morning?" asked a sleepy, grumpy, yet slightly aroused Andie.

"Five forty-five?" said the startled pizza guy. "Dude, like you've been talking to me for like five hours about that chick and the Devil. Like, I gotta motor out of here." He headed out the front door. Andie was upset.

"What can you talk to a complete stranger about that you can't say to me?" Nick was taken aback.

"Hey, chill out. We were just talking about – things. No big deal." He felt the sense of awkwardness in the air. He also noticed Andie's state of arousal, due to the thin and clingy material of her robe. "I think I have to go to work or something like that," said Nick, as he tried to keep his eyes away from Andie's chest. "Thanks for the hospitality."

Andie watched Nick leave. "There goes a heartbroken man," she said to herself.

The voice from her bedroom returned, "...and I didn't get lucky last night either, Jim. Just a big old wet dream..."

CHAPTER THREE: _The Devil's Triangle_

Andie was a little unnerved after recalling that dream but was glad to see Benny's spirits had lifted.

"I'm going to finish chopping these onions so we'll have something to eat later," she said to Benny, as she walked into the kitchen. She wanted to quit thinking about the dream.

"Do you need any help in there?" he asked.

"No, I'm okay. Why don't you relax? You've had a rough night." Benny turned on the TV. He sat on the couch and looked at the empty pizza boxes and beer cans Nick didn't quite get to. He shook his head in disgust. He decided to be brave and breathe through his nose. He took a little whiff, and to his surprise, it smelled pretty good. It also happened to be an intense and familiar scent.

Benny smiled a little and said, "You know, Andi, I can still imagine the smell of Kat's perfume."

Andie replied, "On second thought, why don't you come in here and help me chop these onions. That'll make you forget that smell." Benny flipped the channel to a local news program, and then headed to the kitchen to help Andie.

The voice from the TV sounded, "So if you want to have breasts like Julie, order the BreastMaster today. Only $39.95." This commercial always caught Benny's attention.

The news reporter returned from the break. "This just in," he said, as he read from the teleprompter. "Details are sketchy at this time, but a man identified as Zipper Down, drummer for the local band, The Cramping Violets, has been found dead in his Deville Creek apartment. The cause of death is not known at this time. We'll have more information on this as it develops. In other news, the...."

Benny stared at the TV in a cold shock. "Oh – my – God. Andie – did you just hear that?"

Andie was in the kitchen, but heard the whole thing. "Oh, oh," she muttered. She didn't care about Zipper Down. She was afraid of what was about to happen.

Benny went ballistic. "That's the guy Kat left the party with last night. Oh – my – God. What if she killed him? Oh, no. I'm in love with a murderer. What if she wants to come back and kill me? Oh – my – God. I've got to call the police. No, wait - I've got to save her."

Andie ran in and grabbed Benny. "Settle down, Benny," she said. "You're jumping to conclusions." The bathroom door opened and out popped Nick. He was wearing a Guns 'N Roses World Tour t-shirt and jeans he found crumbled on the bathroom floor.

"What's all the screaming about?" asked Nick. The quick shower had wakened him a little more.

"Kat just killed the drummer," yelled Benny.

"Who did what?" asked Nick.

Andie stepped in for the hysterical Benny. "We just heard on the news that Zipper Down was just found dead." Both Andie and Benny expected Nick to be shaken by the news. Instead, Nick shook his head in disappointment.

"That's just great," he said. "Satan was right and now we'll have to find a replacement drummer."

"Darn it, Nick," yelled Benny. "That's the guy Kat left the party with last night and probably killed."

Nick always welcomed the chance to prove the boss wrong. "No, she didn't," he chuckled.

"What makes you say that?" asked Benny.

Nick was about to blurt it out. "Because, she was..."

"Not the type of person that would kill anyone, I think, from what you told us about her," said Andie.

Nick wasn't helping out the situation. "Unless she screwed him to death," he added.

"Nick," yelled Andie.

Benny blew off Nick's little remark. "What am I going to do?" he cried.

"Benny, you don't even know how he died yet," said Andie. "You're not even sure if Kat slept with him, or for that matter, even left the party with him. It's all hearsay – so pull yourself together."

"Besides, rock drummers are never murdered," said Nick. "They either overdose, drown, choke on vomit, drink themselves to death – or even worse."

Andie had to question Nick. "What on Earth could possibly be worse than all that?"

"They become insurance agents," said Nick.

Benny had heard enough. "Will you two please shut up? My God, this is horrible. I'm sure Kat is involved in this in some way."

Nick was tired of Benny's whining. "Look, man, so what if she did kill him. Who cares? You got no ties to this chick anymore. Are you forgetting the fact she just dumped your sorry ass?" Nick's New Orleans accent continued to pop in from time to time. He picked it up from the years he spent there.

"Why do I keep getting hurt by women?" asked Benny.

"Benny, we just talked about that," said Andie.

"It happens to the best of us," assured Nick.

"It never happens to you," moaned Benny, as he sneered at Nick.

Nick smiled and said, "That's because I have a special method I use."

"And what would that be?" asked an interested Andie.

"I never let my heart get involved," said Nick. "That way, if the girl tries to screw you over before you have the chance to do it to her, you don't get hurt."

Andie was disturbed. "That is so sad."

"Don't you get lonely?" asked Benny.

"Hey, I've got my music, my job, and my friends," said Nick. "What else do I need?"

"What about your bimbos?" asked Andie.

"Okay, so maybe I like to get laid every once in a while. Is that a crime?"

"You could get arrested for some of the ones I've seen you with," said Andie.

"They are all of age," assured Nick.

"Of course they are," said Andie. "Some of them even have their learner's permit."

"I'm sorry, you two, but I've got a lot of sorting out to do," sighed Benny. "I'm going to use the phone in the bedroom, if you don't mind. I've got to find out what's going on with this whole mess."

"Go for it, man," said Nick. "Oh – you might have to reconnect the phone once you find it."

Benny went into the bedroom. It took him a few minutes to find the phone, but he succeeded. Nick and Andie stayed in the front room. Both had a look of disappointment.

"You were doing such a good job of helping Benny," said Andie, "until now."

"It's just as well," said Nick. "Satan told me this morning that someone I knew had just been murdered and I didn't believe him. I guess the old sucker of souls was right about that one. So, I hope you can see why helping Benny is not exactly on the top of my list right now."

Andie was mystified as she stared at Nick for a few seconds, then replied, "You need help...insurance agents? Really?"

Meanwhile, in the African country of Nigeria, near the city of Yola, a fax machine was spewing out legal documents by the dozens. A young Nigerian boy grabbed the papers and rode his bicycle to a small village on the outskirts of town. He ran into a rundown shanty, which was built from bamboo and straw. He handed the documents to a white-haired gentleman who was sipping on his Jack Daniels, straight from the bottle. He smiled at the young boy, put a signature on the documents, and gave him 2000 Nairas. The boy smiled and looked at the signature. It read William Joseph Wainwright. The man knew the boy couldn't read. The boy just knew that when the man scribbled on the bottom of a page, it meant money for him. He told the boy to wait a minute for something else to bring back into town. He signed an invoice for another 500 pounds of snakeskin to be delivered to Milan, Italy. The boy took the invoice, along with the documents, and went back into the city. The white-haired gentleman called for the truck take the delivery to the airport. He lay in his hemp hammock and finished off the rest of his Jack Daniels.

In Milan, Italy, teams of snakeskin experts were studying the latest shipment from Africa. A lady with rigorous quality standards ran the company they worked for. After the skins were determined to be authentic anaconda, they sent the invoice to their boss. She was pleased with the results as she sipped from a glass a red wine. It was from her personal cellar, stocked with nothing but products from her own vineyard. Knowing she had enough raw materials to start her next project, she wrote a check to be sent to a talent agency in Los Angeles. They were picked as having the best campaign proposal for modeling the next style of snakeskin boots. She signed the check Lucille Fernelli.

In Los Angeles, a talent agency was busy finishing their contract obligation for the BreastMaster exercise machine and was preparing the photo shoot for the boots. The owner of the agency took a sip of Crown and Coke as he stared where his left hand used to be. He was trying out his fourth prosthetic hand. He was having a difficult time finding one he deemed suitable. He lost his hand when he was first starting up the talent agency. They were filming a low-budget show called Crocodile Crazies. He had to sit in for one of the actors one day. It wasn't a good day for him. He studied his latest project, which involved the purchase of a record company. After careful consideration, he signed a check and mailed it to the firm handling the transaction. The name on the check was Gary Bell and the law firm was Wainwright and Grimes. The man poured himself another drink and was ready for business. The triangle had come full circle.

A knock was heard at the door at Nick's apartment.

"Must be Satan," said Nick.

"Please, Nick," requested Andie. "No Devil comments." Andie wasn't comfortable with Nick's delusion of thinking Tony was the Prince of Darkness. She nudged Nicked towards the waiting door.

Nick shuffled to the door, put a death grip on the handle and muttered, "Sometimes I feel like I'm living in the Devil's triangle."

CHAPTER FOUR: _Dynamic Debbie_

Debbie Bailey moved to New Lake City from Memphis with her family when she was five. She caught the acting bug in first grade when she played the lead tree in a school play. She became head cheerleader in high school and was president of the Drama Club. Cute and perky, sweet and innocent, she was the Holy Grail of girls on the list to be asked out by the high school boys. She never thought of herself as the most popular girl in school and wouldn't discriminate when it came to dating. She would go out with any boy that asked. She wasn't promiscuous by any means; she was just friendly. She dated boys of all races and religions. She loved learning about different cultures. Her popularity continued throughout her four years of attending Rollins University, where she graduated with a degree in Performing Arts. Her willingness to date anybody kept her choices wide open when it came time to fall in love. Unfortunately, that event wouldn't happen until after she met Antonio Satanelli.

Nick opened the door, expecting to see Tony. Instead, there was Debbie, carrying a bottle of champagne. She was absolutely stunning. She was wearing a short blue dress and an electric smile that lit up the dingy apartment. Her shoulder-length blond hair was as bouncy as she was.

"Hi, guys," said Debbie. "Hope we're not too late." She gave Nick a hug. "Sorry I woke you this morning."

"I had to get up sooner or later," said Nick, with a sigh of relief. "Where's Tony?"

"He's bringing some of my clothes over next door. We figured I would stay overnight since the party is right here." Debbie gave Andie a hug. "Hi, sweetie."

"Hi," said Andie. "You look great. What's the champagne for?"

Debbie started jumping up and down like a little schoolgirl. "Okay, guys, get this. I got the call this morning. They gave me the lead role in the new play that the Community Theatre is putting on." She had been trying for months to get a part in anything. This was her first break.

"That's wonderful," said Andie. She was sincere. Working with Debbie at Wainwright & Grimes proved one thing to her - Debbie needed to be on stage rather than behind a desk.

"Where's Benny?" asked Debbie. "We saw his Yugo outside. His Lexus must be in the shop." Fortunately, Benny kept his 1985 Yugo as a reminder of his humble beginnings.

"He's in the bedroom by himself," said Andie. "It's a long story."

Tony entered the room. In Nick's eyes, the light that Debbie had brought in turned to immediate darkness.

"Buon giorno," Tony cheerfully said. He was carrying a small bag.

"Hi, man," said Nick, as he shook Tony's hand out of courtesy. His grandmother had taught him to be kind to strangers, and Tony was definitely strange. "What's in the bag?"

"Deborah and I stopped at the little bug shop," said Tony.

"The what?" asked Nick.

"Flea market," Debbie said. She was used to Tony's literal use of the English language and often had to translate.

"Peculiar name for a shop," said Tony. "I saw no fleas." After a hushed pause, he added, "I guess nobody understood my little attempt at subtle American humor. I did see a few compact discs I knew you did not have, however, and I thought you might appreciate having them added to your collection."

"Thanks," said Nick. "You really didn't have to do that."

"They were quite inexpensive and I really wanted to perform a nice gesture on your behalf for the invitation you extended Deborah and myself," said the ever so proper Tony.

Nick took the bag from Tony. He removed the CDs, one by one. They were by AC/DC, Grateful Dead, Eagles, and Van Halen. He noticed various song titles – Hell's Bells, Friend of the Devil, Good Day in Hell, and Running With the Devil.

"These are great, Tony. You really didn't need to do that for me," said Nick, as he tried to feign thankfulness.

"You are quite welcome, my friend," said Tony. "May I partake in the use of your sanitary facility? My toilet next door is about to be repaired by a plumber at this time. It seems to have an absence of flushing power, which can be quite..."

"Okay," interrupted Nick. "We get the picture. No problem. Go for it."

Tony walked into the bathroom. Andie ignored Nick's display of Devil paranoia, and started talking to Debbie about Benny. They went into the kitchen, leaving Nick alone on the couch. Nick had been skirting the dark side for the last seventeen years. Now he thought the Devil really was in his bathroom. He remembered his first meeting with Tony...

Nick had met Tony about six months previously. He was hungry and couldn't find any place to eat at four o'clock in the morning. His favorite all-night diner, Uncle Bob's, was closed – according to the notice from the Board of Health, stapled to the front door. Nick strolled into the neighborhood 7-Eleven, in hope of finding something to soak up the alcohol swimming in his stomach. He had been scouting local bands, searching for the next star of Apocalypse Records. He was getting tired of traveling around the country and finding another local band would make things easier. He had no luck. All the bands he saw that night were horrible. He knew the current band he was working with wasn't enough to fill his quota. Behind the counter was a tall, well-dressed gentleman, with dark hair, and even darker eyes.

"Buon giorno," said the man to Nick. "Welcome to 7-Eleven. How may I help you?"

Nick was taken aback to hear such a proper Italian accent from a convenience store clerk.

"I'm just looking," said Nick. He peered into the frozen sandwich area and saw nothing appetizing. He did notice the clerk's reflection in the glass. The image seemed evil. Nick turned around and saw a friendly face staring right back at him. He looked back into the glass and saw an even more demonic face glaring into his eyes. A quick turn around produced almost the same result. This time, the face on the clerk seemed even friendlier.

"You seem to have some difficulty locating a food substance to fulfill your hunger," said the clerk. Nick grabbed a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter in an effort to get out of the store. He placed them on the counter and took out his wallet.

"These are not the food items you wish to purchase, Nicholas," said the clerk.

Nick freaked out. "How did you know my name – and what makes you think I don't want peanut butter sandwiches?"

"Do not get upset, my friend," said Tony. "I saw your name on your driver's license when you opened your wallet and I saw you across the street, trying to go to Uncle Bob's. Judging from the smell of your breath, I came to the conclusion that in your inebriated condition, you were craving the only thing the diner serves at this hour, corned-beef hash and eggs, to soak up the alcohol, which I might add, is overtaking your body as we speak. The cost of an Uncle Bob's meal at this time is $2.95. The loaf of bread you are pretending to buy is $3.50, while the rather small jar of peanut butter is $4.50. With tax, you would be spending $8.56 as opposed to the $4.16 you would be spending on the meal with tax and the customary one dollar tip."

Nick stood there, dumbfounded, frightened, but a little intrigued. "How about some nachos?" he asked.

Tony smiled. "That would be more to your liking at this time." He prepared the nachos, leaving off the jalapeno peppers, and gave them to Nick.

"What about the peppers?" asked Nick.

"I do not believe your stomach could handle them in your condition," said Tony.

Nick was upset. "Look, man, I was born in Lafayette, Louisiana. I'm a natural-born Cajun. I was weaned on gumbo and Tabasco sauce. Don't tell me what I can't handle. Just give me the damn peppers." Nick paid for the nachos and left as he gave Tony a sour glance. He started eating them while walking home. Suddenly, he felt queasy. He ducked behind a large waste bin and threw up. He glanced to the side and noticed what appeared to be a homeless old man, laying down about five feet away. The man, who had a scraggly beard and salt-and-pepper hair, looked at Nick and chuckled.

"It looks like you just ate Satan's meal," said the man.

"What in the hell do you mean by that?" asked a startled Nick.

"Exactly," laughed the old man. Nick took off at lightning speed. He ran the rest of the way to his apartment, jumped into his bed, and pulled the covers over his head. He pulled them off briefly, just long enough to make a quick sign-of-the-cross, then hid underneath again. He wasn't taking any chances...

"I cannot seem to find any toilet paper," was the muffled voice Nick heard from the bathroom. It sounded like Tony, but it could have belonged to someone – or something – else.

"Check the closet," yelled Nick. "And lock yourself in there while you're at it," he mumbled.

Benny walked out from the bedroom and announced, "Well, the legal department is looking into Zipper's death. They don't have any more information than what the police are giving." He noticed Debbie walking back from the kitchen with Andie. "Oh, hi Debbie," he said.

Debbie gave her sympathetic regards to Benny. "I'm so sorry. How are you, Sweetie?"

Benny smiled. "I'm fine." He broke down and hugged Debbie while crying, "No, I'm not."

"Let's go talk in the bedroom," said Debbie, as she led Benny by the hand. Andie sat next to Nick on the couch.

"Are you still on that Devil kick?" she asked.

"There's no doubt in my mind," said Nick. "He is Satan."

The bathroom door opened. Out walked a smiling Tony.

"I found some toilet paper in your closet, Nicholas. I hope you did not mind me looking in there," said Tony.

"As long as you didn't see any skeletons," said Nick.

"Ooh, that would have been quite interesting," said an intrigued Tony, "but why would you keep the bones of the dead in your closet?"

"It's just an expression, man," said Nick.

"Oh, I see. By the way, where is Deborah?" asked Tony

"She's in the bedroom, consoling Benny," said Andie. "I think I'll go in there and see if she needs any help."

"Yeah, me too," said an edgy Nick, not being thrilled of being alone with Tony at that moment.

"No, you stay out here and entertain Tony," smiled Andie, as she went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Nick wasn't too thrilled. "Thanks a bunch, friend," he yelled to the closed door as he started walking towards it.

"I sense an uneasy sentiment from you towards me today, Nicholas," said a concerned Tony.

Nick was nervous, but tried to maintain his composure. "No, it's not you, Tony," lied Nick. "It's just that I had a really rough night and I feel like hell."

"Really?" said Tony, as his eyes lit up.

Nick freaked out. "No – I didn't mean hell, I, um, I meant that I feel like shi, uh, I feel real bad."

"You wanted to say the word shit, didn't you?" replied Tony.

Nick was caught. "Yeah, you're right. I did."

"It is quite suitable to use language of the profane nature around me," implied Tony. "If it is in your nature, so be it. Do not change in my presence to appease me. Sit, Nicholas. We never get the chance to converse without Deborah around. I have lived next door to you for five weeks and know so little about you." The apartment had become available after the previous tenant, Sister Mary Francis, died of unknown causes.

Nick was reluctant, but responded, "Okay, so what do you want to talk about?" They both sat on the couch.

Tony said, "Nicholas, I know there are many questions you would like to ask me."

"Not really," said Nick.

"You cannot fool me, my friend."

"Okay, you're right'' said Nick. "I have a lot of questions."

Tony smiled. "Go ahead, my amico."

Nick turned loose. "Why do you have all these religious degrees and work at a 7-Eleven? I mean, why don't you work in a church, or a school, or something like that? Not that I'm knocking 7-Eleven, well, their nachos kind of suck, but – oh, hell. Do you know what I'm trying to say?"

"A fair question. It is time you know a little more about me, Nicholas."

"Oh, shit," said Nick.

"A vulgarism. Good for you."

"Sorry."

"You need not apologize," said Tony. "It shows you are being yourself. Actually, my – let me remember how to say this in your language - monetary status, at this time, does not require me to be employed by anyone. I work at the convenience establishment only for the joy of meeting interesting people."

"I bet you meet all kinds of interesting people working the night shift at that place."

"Exactly. In fact, I just began the spring semester to obtain my doctorate in Theology. I'll be doing a thesis about people of the night."

Nick understood. "People of the night? That sounds right up your alley – but what's the deal with this religion stuff?"

"Religion fascinates me. By the way, what religion, if any, do you oblige to?"

Nick was about to admit something he wasn't proud of. "Well, I was raised Catholic. I just have a hard time waking up on Sunday mornings to go to church."

"Interesting. Is it because you cannot wake up, or is it you do not wish to attend the weekly mass ritual?"

"It's really none of your damn business." Nick had lost faith in the Catholic Church after he lost Jamie and Maw-Maw.

"Catholicism. The weekly mass ritual, celibate priests and nuns, altar boys, and of course, the Pope. I was raised Catholic myself, so I understand your disillusion. You know, my parents actually live a few blocks away from the Vatican."

Nick had a hard time grasping the idea of Satan being of the same religion as he, or even having parents. "I didn't realize you have folks that still live in Italy."

"Yes. My parents have a very successful business in Rome they have been operating for over forty years."

"What is it?"

"They fabricate and sell souvenirs."

Nick thought how fitting this was. "Pontiffs for profit. How interesting. So your folks do the tourist paraphernalia thing."

"Yes," Tony said. "And needless to say, they have supported me in my decision to study Theology. In fact, they have been more than generous in my monetary allowance."

"Must be nice," said Nick.

"I have made investments with some of the excess monies, and could survive quite nicely without the financial support of Mother and Father."

"What sort of investments?" asked a cautious Nick.

"I bought stock in the Fernelli Boot Company."

Nick thought for a second. "Don't they make snakeskin boots?"

"Yes, and it is owned by a fellow Italian, Lucille Fernelli." The pieces were falling into place. Like a puzzle, Nick was just fed clues to remove any doubt of Tony's true identity.

Nick started thinking out loud. "Lucille Fernelli – Lucy Fernelli – Lucy Fern – Lucy Fer – Lucifer. Lucifer?" Oh, shit. If this isn't Satan himself, he's got to be second in command, he thought. Nick got up and ran to the bedroom, swung open the door and screamed, "Hey, you guys. Come out here, now."

Andie, Debbie, and Benny came out.

"What's wrong, Nick?" asked Debbie.

Nick was hysterical. "Nothing's wrong, except for the fact that we're supposed to be having a party here and almost everybody is crying in my bedroom. I don't like to hear crying in my bedroom. Screaming – well, that's okay, but definitely no crying." He ran into the kitchen. "Where is that gumbo? I don't smell anything cooking. I gotta start making it – damn."

Tony looked at Debbie. "I am afraid I have somehow upset our friend."

"Don't worry about Nick, sweetheart," said Debbie. "He was probably having some sort of flashback."

"I did not know Nicholas was involved in any war," said Tony.

"It was nothing like that," said Andie. "Nick lost his mind in the late seventies."

"I never told you about that." said Nick.

"About what?" asked Andie.

"About," Nick said, then froze for a couple of seconds. "Never mind."

"No, really," said Andie. "About what?"

Tony jumped in. "Oh, yes – the late seventies. The disco years." He started singing and dancing. "I love the nightlife at the YMCA. Staying alive, shake my booty, ring my bell today, I'm a macho, macho..."

"That's it. I'm going to kill him," screamed Nick, as he lunged towards Tony with his hands in the choking position.

Benny grabbed Nick, inches away from Tony. "Hold on, buddy."

Nick calmed down after a few seconds. Here he was, in his own apartment, with Satan's assistant singing disco songs – wrong and poorly – and he wasn't allowed to kill him. He realized that there was no justice left in the world.

CHAPTER FIVE: _Bumbled Beginnings_

It was 1958. Nick's father, Philip Peltier, was an eighteen-year-old jazz drummer. That year, Philip left home right after he graduated from high school. His father, Nicholas, had died from cancer when Philip was five years old, leaving his mother, Marie, alone to raise himself and his brother, Dave. Marie did what she thought was a good job raising the two boys, despite having little money. Dave, who was just one year older than Philip, quit high school in his senior year, much to the dismay of Marie, and left home to take on a business opportunity he couldn't pass up. The business turned out to be illegal, and Dave was sent to his new home - Angola prison.

Marie always preached the good life to Philip after that, praying he wouldn't turn out like his brother. Philip took up playing drums and became impressive. Marie wouldn't allow him to listen to rock and roll; that was the Devil's music, according to her. Philip learned jazz by listening to Buddy Rich records and learning the songs, beat by beat. Jazz wasn't popular in Southwest Louisiana in the late-fifties. French & Zydeco music was mostly played. When Philip formed a jazz band the previous year, they stood out like a sore thumb. Philip's grades suffered since he practiced with the band seven days a week. Marie told him that jazz must be the Devil's music too, since it was distracting him from his schoolwork. He graduated, just barely, and took the band to tour the country.

His band was playing in a little club in Chicago when he met the woman who would steal his heart. Her name was Louise Anna Larquette. She was named after the state where her mother was from. She was the most ravishing woman Philip had ever seen. After introducing himself as Fast Phil, the conversation turned to the origin of her name. The fact Philip was from Louisiana attracted Louise to him - even more than his charm and dashing good looks. The courtship lasted only two months. They got married and moved to Lafayette, much to the dismay of her parents. They didn't like Philip at all. They thought all musicians were evil. Her mother was more distraught that her precious daughter was moving to the state she had left in shame so many years previously.

Marie was ecstatic about the marriage. She had her son back and gained the daughter she never had. Philip and Louise moved in with Marie. She didn't like the fact Philip was still playing music for a living, but at least he was home and playing in a French band. Louise became pregnant two months after they moved in. Philip had to quit playing music. He needed to get a job that would allow him to be home every night with his wife. He became an insurance salesman.

Louise had trouble with the pregnancy. She went into labor two months early, and a caesarian section had to be performed. The birth was a success, but Louise didn't make it through the operation. She died five minutes after the child was born. Philip was in the waiting room with his mother when the doctor came in. He could tell something was wrong by the look on the doctor's face. The doctor told Philip and Marie that the child, a healthy five-pound boy, would be fine but Louise didn't make it. Philip didn't believe it. He ran into the operating room and saw his wife's body, covered by a sheet. He pulled off the sheet as the doctor and the distraught nurse tried to pull him back. He saw the cut-up body of his beautiful Louise. He screamed, ran out the door, and was never heard from again. He never saw his child.

Marie was devastated, but took the child to raise herself. She named him Nicholas, after her late husband. She called him T-Nick. Nick learned to call her Maw-Maw. Marie raised Nick to be strong, honest, and loving. Nick loved her, dearly. He never disappointed her. He grew up exactly like she'd hoped. Nick admired her courage and ability to make it through the tough times without being afraid. Nick was five when his grandmother told him a little about his beautiful mother and evil father. She preached to him the dangers of evil. Nick was raised Catholic and went to church every Sunday with Marie. One Halloween, Nick dressed up in a demon outfit he borrowed from one of his friends. Marie went berserk.

"Mais, don't you ever bring that Satan into this house, cher." Nick remembered her saying those words that were forever stuck in his mind. Throughout Nick's seventeen-year tailspin after high school, he rarely thought about those words – until he met Tony.

CHAPTER SIX: _Pizza for All_

Tony was sensing Nick's level of mistrust.

"Would it be better if I would leave?" he asked.

Ever the gracious host, Nick composed himself and said, "No, stay here, man. I'm sorry. I just lost myself for a second."

"He tends to do that often," said Andie.

Deb added, "Nick, why don't you show us how to make this gumbo thing, so we can all pitch in and help you make it."

Nick didn't like accepting help with anything, especially when cooking Cajun cuisine, but he knew he was in no shape to handle this on his own.

"Okay, y'all can help," he said, defeated.

"Well, guys, I'd really like to stick around," said Benny, "but I need to get to the office and take care of business."

"Don't leave now, Benny. Nick's been working so hard to make this gumbo for us," said Andie.

Benny headed to the front door. "No, I really should be going."

Nick grabbed Benny's arm. "Look here, Bud. I took the time to invite everybody here. Nobody is leaving, especially you. You're in no shape to be going anywhere except in the company of friends who care about you." Everyone was startled. Andie couldn't believe those words just escaped Nick's mouth.

"Nick," she said. "That was a sweet thing to say."

"Stop it," said Nick. He hated mushy compliments.

"Yes, please stay, Benny," said Tony. "It would be improper to exit before the party has even had an opportunity to commence."

"Okay, I'll stay." Benny's arm was always easily twisted. "How long before we eat?"

"Well, if somebody would have started this a couple of hours ago, we'd be eating soon," said Andie. "Now, I'm not so sure."

"Good gumbo can't be rushed," said Nick.

"Apparently, you can't be, either," added Andie.

Nick grabbed his crotch in anger. "Why don't you rush this?"

Ever the consummate peacemaker, Debbie stepped in. "Guys, settle down. We're supposed to be having a party, remember?"

"I invited y'all here for gumbo, damn it," said Nick, "and I know only one way to make it. It's the way my Maw-Maw Peltier, God rest her soul, showed me. It takes time and can't be rushed. So screw it. I'm ordering pizza."

Benny headed to the door, again. "I really need to go."

"Sit your sorry ass down," blasted Nick. "You're not going anywhere. In fact, nobody is leaving this damn place until everybody has a full stomach. I invited y'all here, reluctant as it may have seemed, and here is where all of you will stay."

"Wow," said Deb. "What's with the attitude?"

"It's okay, Debbie," said Andie. "Nick can go from compassionate to cruel in nothing flat."

"I don't think I'm being cruel just because I want my friends to eat," said an upset Nick. "So, get on the phone and order the pizza for us."

Andie put her hands on her hips and walked up to Nick. She stood about a foot away from his face and said, "Excuse me?"

"Sorry," Nick said. He took a few deep breaths then changed to a lighter manner. "Would you please order the pizza for us?"

Andie smiled. "That's better. What does everybody want on their pizzas?"

"Beef and onions," said Benny.

"Mushrooms and olives," said Debbie.

"I would like one with a lot of jalapenos. I like hot things," said Tony.

"Go figure," said Nick, as he shook his head.

Andie finished writing the order. "Okay, I think I got it all. What do you want, Nick?"

"One with everything," he said. "Don't worry about the cost. I'll take care of it."

"Okay," Andie said, as she walked to the kitchen phone to place the order. She called Presto Pizza, a pizza delivery with ten locations in New Lake City. This one was a block away from Nick's apartment.

All this talk about pizza forced Nick's ever-wandering mind to start thinking about high school...

Every Friday night, after the football game, Nick would be at Pizza Village. This was his time. He would never bring one of his girlfriends there on that night. He just wanted to hang out with his vast array of friends. His band, Skyway, played every Saturday night, and he had a date each of the other five nights of the week. Nick was a natural with school, so there was never a need to stay home and study. Nick was treating the six majorettes to pizza one particular Friday night, to honor them for their great half-time performance. The fact they were all gorgeous had nothing to do with it, of course. One of the girls, Cheryl Anderson, brought a friend with her. She walked up to the table and introduced her to Nick.

"Nick, this is my new friend, Jamie O'Malley. She just moved here from Indiana with her family. Do you mind if she sits with us?" asked the cheerful Cheryl.

Nick froze. For the first time in his life, he had trouble keeping his cool. Jamie was, by far, the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on.

"No, I mind don't all at," he stammered. From that moment on, Jamie and pizza would become synonymous...

Nick brought himself back to the present.

"Okay, everybody's here. What do y'all want to do for entertainment?" he asked.

"Let's all guess how Zipper Down died and how long Kat had been screwing him," Benny said.

"Who is Kat?" asked Tony.

"Benny's very recently ex-girlfriend," added Debbie.

Tony seemed confused. "You were having a relationship with someone who was having sexual relations with someone else?"

Benny hung his head. "Yeah."

"How unfortunate," said Tony. "You seem to be handling the situation quite well. If Deborah were having an affair at the present time, I would not be keeping my composure as you are."

"Oh-oh," said Nick. "Here it comes." He was right.

Benny lost all composure. "You think I'm handling it well? Heck, no, I'm not. As a matter of fact..."

"Hold on," interrupted Nick. "Time out, subject closed."

Debbie grabbed Tony's hand. "Sweetheart, you'll never have to worry about that. You're all I can handle," she said. Debbie met Tony the night after Nick did. She was bringing Nick home from Balls and Burgers, a neighborhood bar and grill, since he was way beyond smashed. They stopped at the 7-Eleven to get coffee when she developed an instant fascination for the handsome Italian behind the counter. Nick never forgave himself for that.

Tony smiled. "I love you, my little fettuccine."

Debbie put her nose up to Tony's and started rubbing it. "And I love you, my little meatball."

Nick was disgusted. "Screw this shit," he said, as he walked to the kitchen. "You need help in there, Andie?"

Benny was also feeling nauseous. "I think I need the bathroom," he said as he slammed the door behind him.

"I guess Nicholas and Benny cannot handle the intimate exchange of words between two lovers," declared Tony.

Debbie was a little concerned. "Can you handle it?" she asked.

"Of course I can," he said. "Did you not just hear those words roll off my tongue like Alfredo sauce on linguine?"

"Sweetie, I'm not talking about words. I'm talking about our relationship. Where are we heading? What's up with our future? We need to talk."

"Lover, I have been all over the world in my travels and I have experienced many different women."

"I didn't need to hear that," said Debbie.

"Let me finish," said Tony. "Some of them, men can only fantasize about."

"I really didn't need to hear that," she said.

"But I have never – ever – been so much in love as I am with you," Tony declared.

Debbie's knees got weak. "Do you really mean that?"

"Yes my little pepperoni, I most certainly do."

"That was, absolutely, the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me," said Debbie. "But you still didn't answer my question." She wasn't going to let him off that easy.

Tony smiled. "Wherever our hearts take us."

She held Tony's hand and smiled back. "Cool."

CHAPTER SEVEN: _Elderberry Whine_

Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry was head of the Metro Homicide squad. He started his training late in life, compared to other cadets. He accelerated through the ranks and became head of the division. No one questioned what he did previously. They were just impressed by skills. He entered the Deville Creek apartment of Zipper Down. One hand opened the door while the other stayed in the pocket of his Versace trench coat. He pulled his hand off the doorknob. He took the same hand to pull his Gucci sunglasses down to the tip of his nose. He glanced at the chalk markings left on the floor, which had outlined Zipper's body. Four of Elderberry's top-notched men were combing the apartment.

"I trust every one of you fine gentlemen have done your job," said Gerome.

"Yes, sir," said Sergeant Dennis Wilcox, a thirty-year veteran homicide detective. Elderberry looked at the chalk line and shook his head.

"Why didn't you use tape, Sergeant Wilcox?"

"Well, sir, you told us to use chalk on hardwood floors and..."

"Didn't you get my memo?" Elderberry was upset.

Wilcox hesitated. "Uh, no, sir. I haven't seen any memos on this subject mat..."

"How are we supposed to be running this squad if you don't read my goddamn memos? I am so disappointed in all you gentlemen." Gerome took his glasses off, folded them ever so gently, and put them in the case with the touch of a mother handling a newborn. "I want all you boys to get the hell out of here. Go back to the station and find the memo. I want a full report – not on this young man's death – but on the importance of reading my damn memos."

Sergeant Wilcox turned to the other officers, shrugged his brawny shoulders, and led them out the room. As he passed in front of Elderberry, Gerome grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Wilcox, I'm putting you on suspension until further notice for botching up this job," said Elderberry.

Two months previously, Wilcox had been demoted from Captain. He was moved down two levels and was now a Sergeant. Chief Samuel Bushman had accused him of mishandling evidence in a case involving Carlos Verona, a local businessman. Wilcox was the head of the homicide division until the false accusation. He was replaced by Elderberry. He just reached the pinnacle of his frustration. Wilcox grabbed Gerome's hand and slowly pulled it off his shoulder. He grabbed his badge out his the pocket of his Burlington Coat Factory blazer, then threw it on the floor next to Elderberry's Ferragomo shoes.

"Suck – my – dick. I quit," said the humiliated detective. The other officers snickered as they followed Wilcox out the door.

Elderberry, unaffected by the comment, carefully surveyed the scene for a couple of hours before leaving. He instructed the officer guarding the door not to let anyone but him return to the apartment.

"If anyone so much as steps one toe into the doorway of this crime scene, I will make sure that the nose on your face makes a permanent union with the part of your body where the sun does not shine," he told the officer.

CHAPTER EIGHT: _The Cassette Tape_

Nick came back from the kitchen.

He walked to the couch and asked, "You two lovebirds finished with your dilemma?"

"I think it's just starting," said Debbie.

Tony started kissing Debbie's arm, slowly making his way to her neck. "It has been starting and there is no way to stop it, my little linguini."

Nick was watching an exhibition of the penultimate of evil making sickly sweet gestures with the essence of virtue. He rolled his eyes and called to Andie in the kitchen, "Did you get the order in?"

Andie stepped into the room. "The pizzas are on the way. They said it wouldn't take long at all."

The bathroom door opened and out popped Benny with a suspicious grin on his face. "I see someone got lucky here, recently."

Nick got nervous. "What do you mean?"

"I saw those panties left on the floor in your bathroom," said Benny.

"They're mine," snapped Andie.

"They are?" asked a confused Nick.

"Yes – they – are," said Andie, as she glared at Nick.

"Oh, yeah," said Nick. "They are." As intelligent as Nick was, he wasn't exactly a quick thinker.

"I, um, took a shower here today, because – I went jogging. That's it. I left my underwear on the bathroom floor accidentally," said Andie.

Benny didn't buy into it. "I think you two are up to something," he said.

"What makes you say that?" asked Nick.

"Both of you have been acting kind of strange today," said Benny. "I expect that from you, Nick, but not from Andie, too." He turned to Andie. "I think something happened here last night that you don't want me to know about."

Nick decided to seize the moment. "Alright. You might as well know the truth." He walked up to Andie, put his arm around her, and said, "Andie and I are lovers."

"In your dreams," declared Andie, as she pulled away from him. "Nothing is going on between Nick and I."

Benny agreed. "I didn't think so, but you know – it's kind of strange. Kat used to wear panties like the ones I saw in there."

Nick was thoroughly frustrated. "Ah, hell, Benny. They're Andie's panties. She jogs, she showers, she forgets her panties, we're not lovers, and I'm going to the bathroom," exclaimed Nick. He slammed the door behind him.

"He sure is acting weirder than usual," said Benny.

"What do you mean by usual?" asked Andie.

"Yeah, you're right," Benny said. "I'm sorry about the whole panties thing."

"I guess Kat and I shop at the same place," said Andie. Nick was sitting on his bathroom floor. Clutching the panties, he wondered why he was going through all the trouble of lying to Benny. He started thinking about the time when they first met...

His love for music is what got him the job with Apocalypse Records. He was living in New Orleans, making a living by playing in a couple of local bands and recording other musicians in a little home studio. He was renting a house off St. Charles Avenue near the park, so every once in a while he took a streetcar to the downtown area. He drove his car as little as possible since he couldn't afford insurance. One day he was eating at Café Maspero's in the French Quarter, when he noticed a man next to him having trouble eating a shrimp po-boy. Tarter sauce was dripping on his briefcase and shrimp were dropping on the floor one by one. Nick noticed the logo for Apocalypse Records on the man's briefcase. Nick took one last sip of his Dixie beer and turned to the man.

"You in the music business?" asked Nick.

"Yeah," replied the man, as he tried to clean the sauce off his silk tie. "Are you a local?"

"Been here a few years," replied Nick. "Why do you ask?"

The man was obviously frustrated. "How in the heck do you eat this thing?"

Nick started laughing. "Man, just grab it with both hands and eat it. No trick to it." He started thinking how hilarious it would be to watch this man eat crawfish. "Are you with Apocalypse?"

"Yeah. The name's Benny Myers. How do I get to Tipitina's?"

Nick definitely knew the way to Tipitina's, his favorite club in New Orleans. He took this as an opportunity to promote his latest project. He made a demo tape of a local singer, Shana D'Angelo, at his home studio. He wrote the songs for her and played all the instruments on the tape. He did it strictly for the sex, but loved the sound of her voice so much he wanted more people to hear about her. He happened to have a copy of the tape with him.

"Tell you what," said Nick. "Where did you park?"

"You think I'm crazy enough to drive around this place? I took a cab."

"Well, any of the cabbies can take you there. They all know the way." Nick handed the tape, along with his name and phone number, to Benny. "Here - give this a listen and call me when you want to sign her."

Benny had people giving him demo tapes everyday. "Yeah, sure. Thanks a bunch. Look, there's a cab. Have to go. Nice meeting you." Benny ran out the door after throwing $20 on the table. He got in the cab and took off down Decatur Street.

Nick finished his own po-boy, and then ordered another beer. He didn't think much of the meeting with Benny. He took his beer and strolled to Jackson Square. He watched one of his friends, a street artist, create a charcoal drawing of a young, newlywed couple. He walked to the Mississippi River bank to watch the boats for a while. He also enjoyed watching the tourists, as they would marvel at the sight of the mighty Mississippi. He overheard an older couple talking about the amount of time it took to drive to Lafayette. That's when Nick decided to leave. He then took the long walk to catch the streetcar back home. When he got there, the phone was ringing. It was Benny.

"Nick, this is Benny Myers with Apocalypse. How's it going, buddy?"

Nick was taken aback with the sudden friendliness of Benny. "Fine – I guess."

"Look, I won't take up a lot of your time here. I was stuck in traffic on some street, I think it was Canal, whatever, and I decided to pop that tape you gave me into the old Walkman. Great stuff. Where did you record this?"

Nick wasn't fazed. "In my house," he said.

"Where did you get the musicians?"

"I did all the instrument tracks myself."

"Did this chick write those songs herself?"

"No, I did."

"You're kidding me. You did it all?"

Nick was humble, but was used to compliments. "Yeah, I guess – well, except for the awesome singing, of course. That's what I was trying to get across."

"Yeah, nice voice. Look, I'm staying at the downtown Hilton. Meet me in the lobby tomorrow at noon. We'll do lunch. Gotta go."

Nick had plans for the next day. He was supposed to be meeting a stripper for lunch at her apartment. He hadn't done special favors for anyone since his Lafayette days, but something told him to do this one. He called the stripper, Alotta Juggs, and canceled his date. He then called Shana to let her know about a possible record deal for her.

"I promise I'll call you right after the meeting," he told her. Nick arrived at the Hilton at 11:55am. He was never on time for anything, so this was extremely early. Benny sat on a couch in the lobby reading the latest Billboard magazine. He looked up and saw Nick.

"Nick, my main man. How's it going, buddy?" He outstretched his arms to give Nick a hug.

Nick straight-armed Benny with his left arm then stuck out his right hand.

"A handshake will do just fine."

"No problem, buddy," said Benny. "Where do want to go for lunch?" Nick usually woke up around noon, so this was actually breakfast time for him.

"How 'bout we go down to Café Du Monde for some beignets and coffee."

"You're the man," said an excited Benny.

They took the Riverwalk streetcar for the short ride to Café Du Monde. They got their seats, placed the orders, and Benny started his sales-pitch.

"Look, Nick, I'm not going to beat around the bush. That tape was super-fabulous. I need talent like yours at the label."

"What about the singer?"

"Hey, great voice, but we have tons of female vocalists. What we need is somebody like you. You'll be a studio musician, writer for some of our artists, who can't write a song to save their life, talent scout – you obviously recognize good talent, and producer. That homemade tape of yours was the best thing I've heard outside a real studio – ever."

Nick was overwhelmed. "Man, you can lay off the bullshit now. What's your angle?"

"I'm being totally sincere, my man. We'll start you off at thirty-five thousand, plus pay for your housing. We're leasing an apartment not far from the studio."

"Wait a second," said Nick. "You're asking me to move?"

"Of course. We'll move you to New Lake City, set you up, then turn you loose."

"When would all this take place?"

"Now. I need you now. Go home, start packing, and I'll make all the arrangements."

Nick reluctantly agreed. Benny sent Nick home in a cab to start packing. Nick started wondering about leaving his home state. He'd lived here all his life. New Orleans was his second home. His real home was Lafayette, about 130 miles west. He hadn't been there in ten years. His only living relative that he knew of was his Uncle Dave, who was in Angola prison the last he heard. He had many acquaintances in New Orleans, but no real friends. His ties were non-existent. There was no reason for him not to move. He never called Shana back. The move took only three days. Nick was set up in New Lake City – population 350,000 – home of Apocalypse Records. It was also the home of Rollins University – whose mascot was the Fighting Red Demons.

Andie was telling Benny, Debbie, and Tony about all the places she shopped for underwear.

"So, you see, Benny? It's possible that we could have the same matching panties," explained Andie.

"I didn't realize there were so many places that sold women's underwear in New Lake City," said Benny. "You've must have named at least fifty places."

"And I didn't even start to mention the places on the outskirts of town," added Andie. "There's the outlet mall down the Interstate I love to shop. They've got at least fifteen stores that sell women's lingerie. They've got..."

"Oh, yeah," Debbie suddenly remembered something as she interrupted, "Speaking of shopping, Andie, I think I found the perfect man for you."

This struck a nerve. Andie realized she hadn't been on a date in months. She had been asked countless times, but she always turned down the offers. It was a combination of her being too particular, and her passion for her job – which was taking up all of her spare time. She was content having her few friends to socialize with. She was, however, a warm-blooded woman with certain needs and it was about time to do something about it.

"Really? Who?" asked the interested Andie.

Debbie was excited. "He's a new lawyer at our firm and I just got assigned to him. He's thirty-five, single, and drop-dead gorgeous."

Tony was a little concerned about Debbie's enthusiasm. "Just how gorgeous is drop-dead?"

Debbie enjoyed seeing a little jealousy in Tony. "No need to worry, sweetheart," she said. "He's nothing for you to be concerned about. I just think he would be perfect for Andie."

"What type of law does he practice?" asked an intrigued Andie.

"This is the best part. He practices criminal law, like you, and guess what case he was just assigned?"

Andie knew her firm had decided to represent someone very important, but didn't know who it was.

"Tell me," said Andie.

"He's going to represent Carlos Verona."

Benny was impressed. "The Mafia guy?" he asked.

"Alleged Mafia person," said Andie. "It's innocent until proven guilty in this country." She turned to Debbie. "Go on."

"Apparently, his son is in need of a new liver and is well down on the list to receive a transplant. It seems someone in the media got hold of evidence of Carlos systematically having people killed so his son will have a chance of getting one sooner."

Andie stood in shock. She was hoping Nick didn't hear what Debbie just said. The bathroom door exploded open.

"Did I just hear right?" asked a terrified Nick.

"Calm down," said Andie, as she grabbed his arm. "Its just speculation."

"Speculation, my ass." Nick was petrified. "I signed that organ donor card. They're out to get me." A sudden knock was heard at the front door. "Oh – my – God," he yelled. "They're here." He took off into the bedroom.

Andie yelled back at Nick, "It's probably just the pizza delivery. I'll get it." She calmly walked to the front door. Nick stormed out the bedroom, grasping a baseball bat.

"They're not taking me alive." He pushed Andie out the way.

Tony was confused. "Is that not the whole point?"

Nick raised the bat, swung open the door, and there was Kat, standing there with a big smile.

"Hi," she said. As luck would have it, she was only in view of Nick and Andie.

"Oh, shit," cried Nick, as he jumped outside, slamming the door behind him.

"That pizza delivery person sure sounded like Kat," said Benny, as he headed towards the door.

Andie grabbed him. "Stop it, Benny," she said, firmly. "Today, everybody sounds like, smells like, and has panties like Kat. You just lost her. It's only natural." She was really getting the hang of improvised deception.

Benny calmed down. "I guess you're right."

Andie smiled. "Of course, I am."

Nick walked back in, looking completely flustered. "It was just the plumber from next door. They, uh, got the wrong apartment."

"I should let him inside," said Tony. "He must be here to fix my toilet. You know, it does have an absence of flushing..."

"No, it's alright," interrupted Nick. "She has the pass Kat, I mean, key. I mean - he's a woman."

"A transvestite plumber?" asked Debbie.

Nick was having trouble keeping his poise. "No, I meant to say the plumber is a woman and has the pass key to Tony's apartment."

"Are you okay, Nick?" asked Andie.

"Yeah, sure."

"I was wondering," said Tony. "Why does everyone assume that Carlos Verona is associated with the Mafia? Is it because he is Italian? That is – how would you say it – stereotypical? I am Italian, and I am not involved with any crime syndicate and..."

"Look, man. Just shut up," interrupted Nick. "I don't want to hear anymore about ex-girlfriends, panties, Mafia kid's liver, possible blind dates, or dead drummers."

"Wait a second, Nick," said an observant Debbie. "Does the possibility of Andie going on a blind date have you a little wound up?"

Benny raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Nick. Are you a little jealous?"

"Has the green-eyed monster grabbed you by the testicles?" asked Tony.

Andie was shocked. "Nick?"

A rat in a cage had more room to move than Nick. "Screw Maw-Maw's gumbo rules. I'll just throw everything in the microwave and nuke the damn thing." He ran into the kitchen.

"Does that mean we will be eating a non-authentic gumbo?" asked Tony. "I thought Cajun people always took immense pride in their cuisine. To put it into the microwave would be like slapping your poor deceased grandmother in the..."

Nick yelled from the kitchen, "I got your Cajun pride right here, asshole."

"What about the pizzas?" asked Benny. "Presto Pizza has that reputation for being super quick." Another knock was heard from the front door. "See what I mean." He walked to the door.

Nick ran out the kitchen, stood right by Andie's side, as they both screamed out, "No."

Benny was holding the doorknob. "What in the heck is wrong with you two? I'm just opening the door."

"Okay," said Nick. "Go ahead and open it. Don't say I didn't warn you." He felt defeated. He knew Kat was on the other side of the door. After what he just told her outside, this would be her retaliation. He knew Benny would be confronting him, and everybody else would be questioning him about his little, unexpected remark about the blind date. Compared to this, Armageddon seemed like a trip to Disneyworld. He wasn't prepared for what was about to come through that door.

CHAPTER NINE: _70's Flashback_

Benny grabbed the knob and swung open the door. Nick and Andie cringed in anticipation of Benny seeing Kat. They looked and saw a vision, which made them sigh in relief.

"Presto Pizza," said the man outside. His jeans were torn, his shirt looked as if a garden threw up on it, and his long, dark brown hair windblown in different directions.

"Like, are you the guys who ordered the five medium pizzas?"

Andie smiled. "Yes, we are. We're so glad to see you."

Pizza Guy recognized Andie. "Hey, like I've seen you before. I brought a pizza to your pad last week when I was gigging at the Eastside location. You were there with this dude who wouldn't shut up." He turned his head and noticed Nick. "Oh wow, man. Like, you're that dude."

Nick was embarrassed. "Sorry about that, man."

"Like you kept me in that pad all night, talking about the Devil and this high school chick. You almost got my ass fired, dude."

Andie jumped in. "Whoa, wait a second. What about a girl in high school?"

"Nobody wants to hear about that," said Nick.

"Oh, yes we do," said Andie. She was ready for the answer Nick wouldn't give her.

"Man, like this dude was all in love with this chick..."

"Thanks for bringing the pizzas," Nick interrupted, as he grabbed the pies.

"You're not getting off the hook this time, sweetheart," said Andie. "Go on."

Pizza Guy continued, "Like I was trying to say – this dude was all in love with this hot babe, but she wasn't giving it up. He figured it was because she was a virgin, and wasn't ready to do the mattress mambo. He was cool with that until he found out she had been sleeping with someone else in school. He, like, freaked out, totally. She said the rumor was bogus, or something like that, but she still couldn't convince herself to sleep with our boy, here. She left town after graduation, and didn't let him know where she was motoring. This dude was crushed. Ain't that right, dude?"

Nick looked whiter than the sheets on his bed used to look. "I think you made your point," he said.

Andie was astonished. She was sure Nick was in love at one time. This confirmed it.

"Is it true?" asked Andie.

Nick lowered his head. "Yeah."

Benny was smiling. "Well, it looks as if a whole can of worms has been opened up."

Pizza Guy got defensive. "Hey, like there's no truth to that bogus rumor about worms being in our pizzas, dude. They're like, you know, pre-made and we just add the toppings and nuke 'em. No worms – just primo ingredients. We just do it quick. I don't know how that rumor started."

Andie put her arm around Nick. "You might as well tell us the whole story, Nick."

Nick pulled away from Andie. He walked to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of Patron tequila from the freezer, and took four gulps. Taking a deep breath, he stumbled back to the front room and sat on the couch. Andie sat next to him and Debbie sat on the other side. Tony sat in one beanbag chair and Benny in the other.

Pizza Guy stood by the door and said, "Oh, no. Like, he's going to tell that story again."

For the first time since the high school incident, Nick was about to tell the story to people that actually knew him. He interlocked his fingers together into one fist while raising it to his sweaty forehead. He took a deep breath and started talking.

"I met Jamie at a place called Pizza Village after a game one Friday night. I was treating all the majorettes to..."

Nick stared at Jamie with lovesick eyes. He ignored the other six girls the rest of the night. Jamie had his complete attention. He asked her to watch his band perform the next night. This was the first time Nick brought a girl to a gig. He couldn't take his eyes off her. Her green eyes, framed by her long, wavy, red hair, seemed to stare right through him. Skyway was about to play their most important gig to date – a wedding reception for Mayor Alphonse LeBlanc's daughter. They were supposed to start off with light background music. Nick had other plans. He was out to impress Jamie.

"Let's start out with Play that Funky Music," he yelled to the band.

The drummer, Alvin, yelled right back, "You out your cracker mind, man? That mayor cat will throw our ass on the street if we start out with shit like that." Alvin was 6'2", black, and sported a six-inch Afro. "I ain't doin' it."

The bass player, Doug, had the same sentiments. "I ain't gonna play anything that draws attention to my skinny butt." Doug was 5'11", wearing a wig that cascaded down to his hips, and spoke with a heavy Texas drawl. He had slept with all three of the mayor's daughters, and heard a rumor that the mayor wanted to deport him back to Texas (Nick enjoyed a good practical joke). "Y'all can do that there song without me."

Nick didn't care. This was their best song, and he was going to play it – now. He started the opening guitar line to the song as the crowd of socialites turned in shock. He played the line seven more times.

Alvin yelled, "Screw it," and started the drum part. Doug had no choice. He played his bass with his head down, so his hair would cover his face. The rest of the band didn't care. They did what they always did – follow Nick's lead. Nick was singing the song, lost in Jamie's eyes. He didn't notice the mayor running up to the bandstand.

"What in the hell are you punks doing?" he hollered, as he grabbed Nick's microphone. Doug looked up in surprise, causing his identity-hiding wig to fall, revealing his wavy brown hair and traumatized face.

The mayor looked and noticed him. "You son-of-a-bitch. You're the punk who's been screwing my little girls. I'll kill you."

Doug took off running, with the mayor close behind him. The bride started sobbing – not because her reception was ruined – she realized she was still in love with Doug; so were her two sisters.

Nick grabbed Jamie and left the disaster area. They spent the next day together, which was usually reserved for Dina. He also took Monday night away from Shelly. Jamie had to stay home Tuesday, so Nick kept his date with Tabitha. She was the kinkiest of Nick's girlfriends. They would have sex in the strangest places - the 50 yard-line of the football field, the roof on top of her parent's house, and the back seat of a school bus on a band trip. That night, Nick couldn't bring himself to have sex with her – which was very unusual. He got together with Jamie on Wednesday, forcing him to stand up Wanda. Wild Wednesday with Wanda was Nick's favorite date night. They would get high and have sex for hours, while Wanda's parents went to bible study on that night. Jamie had to stay home Thursday, so Nick reluctantly kept his date with Angelle. She was the prettiest of all his girls, but she seemed to pale next to Jamie. Angelle was also the most passionate of all because she really loved Nick, but that night, Nick's head and heart were someplace else. His entire life routine had been disrupted.

He didn't care. Nick and Jamie grew closer. She didn't like the fact that he smoked pot, so he gave it up. She didn't like him seeing the other girls, so he quit that, also. She said she needed time and space for herself, so Nick gave that to her, too. He had plenty of male friends so he used that time to hang out with them. He didn't enjoy it anymore. His friends noticed a difference in him. Even though Skyway had broken up after the reception incident (Doug deported himself back to Texas), Alvin remained Nick's closest friend.

"That bitch got you by the balls," Alvin told Nick, as they were watching Charlie's Angels on TV. "She must have some wild stuff."

"We haven't done it yet," said Nick.

Alvin was amazed. "You mean to tell me, you dumped all your fine women for someone who ain't givin' it up?"

"It's not like that," defended Nick. "She's a, you know, a..."

"Fine looking piece of ass," said Alvin. "You better be tapping that soon before some other stud gets his Johnson in the scene."

"She's a virgin," said Nick. "I have to respect that."

"That's cool, man," said Alvin. "But, you're what, eighteen? You've been getting it steady and now you're gonna stop cold turkey?"

Nick proudly said, "That's right. When the time comes, we'll do it."

"That's bullshit, man," said Alvin. "Whoa, that Farrah Fawcett is one fine looking mama."

Nick said, "No, man. I'm going to do it right. I think I..."

"Don't say that word," said a frantic Alvin. "Man, I know she's a fine mama and all that, but check out the facts first. She's from up north, where, you know, their values ain't as uptight as down here. You think a piece like that ain't got none before?"

Nick started having doubts. "I don't know."

"Ask around," suggested Alvin. "I'll bet she's tapping somebody at school." The seed had been planted and against his better judgment, Nick started asking questions.

Sheila, a friend in his math class told him, "Oh, yeah. I know for a fact she's been seeing somebody on the side."

He asked Craig, a friend in his English class the same question. "Are you living under a rock?" said Craig. "That girl is wild. I know she's been getting it steady from somebody here for a while. I just don't know who."

Nick even went to his band director, Mr. Robinson.

"Do you think Jamie O'Malley is a virgin?" he asked. He knew he could talk to Mr. Robinson about anything. Mr. Robinson was taken aback with such a direct question. Still, he knew Nick didn't have a father figure to look up to, so he answered the question as best as possible.

"Nick, that's a tough one for me to answer. You're a young man and you're going to go through a lot of confusing times. I'm honored that you trust me enough to ask such a personal question, but I don't think I can answer that one."

Nick begged, "Please, Mr. Robinson. I need an adult's view on this."

"Alright, Nick," said Mr. Robinson. He looked around to see if anyone was listening. "I heard that she was having sex long before she moved here. She's even had sex with someone at this school. Since you asked me this question, it's safe to assume that person wasn't you." This blew Nick's mind.

His inquiries kept on for days, each coming up with a similar answer – Jamie was not a virgin. He had to confront Jamie to find out why she wouldn't have sex with him. It was a Saturday night. Nick and Jamie were at his house. Nick's grandma was out playing bingo. Sitting on the sofa, Nick turned to Jamie.

"That John Belushi sure is funny," he said, as they watched Saturday Night Live. "I wonder how many times he and Gilda Radner have done it?"

"What makes you think they've had sex with each other?" asked Jamie.

"Well, look at them," said Nick. "They come on TV every Saturday night and do a live show in front of millions of people. They look like they know each other so well."

Jamie was confused. "So, you think just because two people get along so well, they've had sex with each other?"

"It sure helps," he said, grinning. "How many people do you know well?"

"I'm not sure what you're getting at," she said.

Nick was mustering up all the courage he could. "I mean – have you ever got to know someone really well?"

"Have I ever had sex?" she asked.

"I guess that's what I'm trying to say." Nick was waiting for a bomb to drop.

"Nickster," the pet name she adopted for him, "I really like you – a lot – but I'm just not quite ready for that kind of relationship." Jamie was surprisingly calm.

"Is it me?" asked Nick.

"No, it's like," Jamie said with a pause, "Look – I know you've had plenty of experience with girls, and I – well, let's just say I haven't had the same kind of experience with guys yet, if you know what I mean."

Nick was satisfied with that. "I knew you were still a virgin. Those guys were wrong."

"And just what do you mean by that?" asked a startled Jamie.

Nick had never seen her angry, and frankly, was a little frightened. "I mean, you know – a virgin – someone who hasn't had..."

"I know damn well what a virgin is, you insensitive prick," yelled Jamie. "What did you just mean about those guys being wrong?"

"Some people at school kind of, uh, hinted something about you having sex or something with some guy and..."

"And you believed it?"

"I didn't know what to think."

"I have never had sex with some guy, and for you to even bring up something like that, oh, God. I can't believe this."

"It's no big deal."

"No big deal? " Jamie was enraged. "Screw you!" She got up and stormed out the house. Nick ran after her. He grabbed her before she could make it off the front porch. Jamie was crying profusely.

"I'm so sorry, Jamie." He had never had to apologize to anyone in his life. "People tell me these really screwed-up things about you. I don't know – maybe they're jealous or something. They've never seen me crazy over a chick before."

Jamie stopped crying, as she gave Nick a hug. "Take me home, please." They got into Nick's 1973 Ford Maverick. He drove her home to her house in River Oaks subdivision. He walked her to the front door, and gave her a little goodnight kiss.

"I'm sorry about that virgin thing. It's just that I lo... like you a lot."

"It's okay, Nick," she said. "Call me tomorrow." She gave Nick another kiss, this one lasting a little longer than the first.

Nick walked back to his car a little confused. Instead of going straight home, he decided to pass by Alvin's house. There were about ten cars parked in front, loud music blaring through the window, and people dancing. Nick didn't know about this party. He parked his car on the opposite side of the street, got out the car, and stared. He could see Alvin dancing with Dina, Shelly was making out with a guy he couldn't recognize, and Wanda was running around without a shirt. A car pulled up behind Nick. He turned and saw Angelle and Tabitha with dates.

"So, Nick, where's your little innocent slut girlfriend bitch?" asked Angelle. It was obvious that Angelle had been drinking for quite some time. Nick got in his car without saying a word, and drove off. His life had changed dramatically. He didn't care. He was kicked in the butt by love.

Nick and Jamie continued their relationship. Things were progressing a lot slower than Nick had hoped. His friends quit talking to him. He was spending all his time with Jamie. One night, he decided to have a talk with his grandma. She came home after bingo, and Nick was alone on the couch watching Happy Days.

"What you doing all alone here?" she asked.

"I'm watching the Fonz get all the chicks."

"You were a lot like that, yourself. That Jamie girl got you wrapped around her little finger like a tiny puppet." Grandma Peltier wasn't too fond of Jamie.

"Maw-Maw," he asked. "What is it you don't like about Jamie?"

"Ah, cher, that girl been changing you to somebody I don't know no more."

Nick was confused. "What do you mean?"

"T-Nick," she said. "Look at you. You don't have no friends like you use to have, and I don't see your little girlfriends come around no more. I saw Angelle's mama at the beauty shop and she done told me her daughter was upset about you and that Jamie girl. Then I saw Shelly's grandma at the grocery, and she done told me the same thing. Mais, what the heck is wrong with you?"

Nick had to defend himself. "Maw-Maw, aren't you proud of me because I'm settling down?"

"You too young to be settled," she said. "All those girls you had been with were so nice. You were happy all the time. I bet that girl got you doing drugs."

"No, Maw-Maw, I'm not doing drugs."

"Well, I bet you having sex with that girl." Nick was shocked. He never heard his Grandma use the 's' word.

"What makes you say that?"

"I was talking to Dina's grandma and Wanda's aunt. They told me about that Jamie. She's been spreading her legs like Parkay."

"Why in the hell are you talking like that?"

"You see? I done told you. You and that little whore been having sex and smoking that cocaine pot stuff. You have never been disrespectful to me like that. She's got you talking about hell. That's the Devil's home, you know."

Nick had enough. He ran out the house and drove to Jamie's. He talked her into taking a ride to Girard Park. They stopped at a convenience store to pick up a loaf of bread. They sat on the shore of the duck pond and fed them. Nick hadn't said much to this point. He was irritated with his Maw-Maw. Jamie was amused at Nick's throwing technique.

"Why do you throw the bread with your left hand?" she asked.

"It's the way my stupid grandmother taught me. Something about the awkward motion makes the ducks go to the bread faster – or that's at least what the stupid bitch says."

"She upset you tonight, didn't she?" She was concerned. Nick didn't answer. He put his arm around her and they started kissing. They were slow and tender at first, but then things started heating up. The cool spring air didn't bring the temperature down between them. They were alone near a tree and since it was 10:30 at night, darkness made their interlude more private. Jamie was wearing a sundress that did little to hide a beautiful, well-toned body. Nick caressed the small of her back and gave her soft, squeezing sensations. Jamie started to moan. He never heard those sounds come from her. This was it. He crept one hand around the front of her dress. He slid it underneath the top, and cupped his hand over her lace-covered breast. She moaned louder. He gave it gentle squeezes. It had been months since Nick had sex, but he was displaying an enormous amount of self-control.

Nick looked around to make sure they still had their privacy, when Jamie grabbed his head then shoved her tongue in and around his eager mouth. He laid her down onto the cool, damp grass. He slid his body on top of hers. Suddenly, small footsteps were heard. They looked to the side and saw a duck about six inches from their faces.

"Duck off," said Nick, as Jamie started laughing.

"Nickster, you make me so happy," she said, as she grabbed Nick's blue-jean covered butt. Nick smiled and kept on course. He slid the straps off her dress to reveal a hot pink lace bra. He unsnapped the front of the bra and almost fainted at the sight of Jamie's naked breasts for the first time. The moonlight made the scene more surreal. Jamie showed no signs of backing down. She unbuttoned Nick's polyester shirt and rubbed her hands all over his chest. Nick was about to reach between her legs when he felt the sudden urge to blurt out those three words.

"I love you," he muttered.

Jamie was in shock. The tears poured down her face.

"You can't love me. What are we doing?" She started crying with the vigor of the water hose that Nick washed his beloved car with, three times a week. Nick got up and she snapped her bra and adjusted her dress.

"What's wrong?" he asked, in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, Nick. Can you please take me home?" He didn't argue. He drove her home as she was crying all the way. He kept asking what was wrong, but she continued sobbing. To make matters worse, the only music he could find on the radio was disco. When he stopped in her driveway, she ran into her house without so much as a good-bye. Nick ran after her, but she slammed the door in his face. He knocked for five minutes until her father came to the door. Mr. O'Malley was about 5'5", with a small build – not an intimidating sight.

"Can I do something for you, Nick?" he asked.

"I need to talk to Jamie."

"Well, I don't think she wants to talk to you."

"I really need to talk to her. It's important." Mr. O'Malley smiled.

"I'll tell you what I'll do. Wait right here." He closed the door. Nick figured he was getting Jamie. The door opened and there was Mr. O'Malley – holding a double-barreled, 12-guage shotgun. "I'll blow your scummy little brain all over my nicely manicured lawn, if you don't keep the hell away from my daughter."

Nick got the hint. He went home. Grandma Peltier was sitting in the living room, watching The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. She noticed Nick, looking like a train wreck.

"I done told you that girl was bad news. She's a devil child," declared Maw-Maw.

Nick couldn't object. He went straight to his room. The next month was pure torture for Nick. Jamie refused to talk to him at school and he wasn't allowed near her house. Graduation activities ruled the next weeks, but Nick wasn't participating in any. He sulked during what should have been the happiest weeks of his life. On graduation night, the Lafayette Municipal Auditorium was packed. The seniors were sitting in alphabetical order, so Jamie was a couple of rows in front of Nick. When her name was called, Nick got a pain in his heart. Somehow, he knew this would be the last time he would see her. She grabbed her diploma, and then walked up the opposite aisle. Nick's row had to get lined up to the stage. As he was getting up, he didn't see Jamie continue walking out the auditorium, instead of following her classmates back to their seats. Nick's name was called. As he stepped to the podium to receive his diploma, he looked where Jamie should have been seated. This is when he saw the empty seat. He was so horrified; he didn't hear the Principal announce his music scholarship to Loyola University. He grabbed his diploma and scholarship paper, wondering why he had two documents in his hands, and walked off the stage. He didn't stop at his row. He kept walking, and then started running up the aisle to the lobby. Jamie was nowhere to be found.

Later that night, Nick went to the graduation party at The Sting, a local dance club, hoping that Jamie might be there. He had no such luck. He found Alvin at the bar. He bought Nick a shot of tequila.

"We going to the real world, brother man," said Alvin, as they both downed their shots. It was the start of a seventeen-year drinking binge for Nick. From that moment on, he knew his life would be pure hell.

"Nick, I had no idea," said a surprised Andie. "That is one of the most sweetest, yet saddest love stories I've ever heard."

Benny was laughing. "Sweet, my butt. He's been screwed up all these years because of a girl he couldn't score with in high school? I thought I was bad. That's pathetic."

Debbie was sympathetic. "No, it's just that he loved her so much at a tender, young age and he never got over it."

Tony was smiling. "I believe it was because he – so to speak – struck out with his chance to bury the big one with the young nymphet."

Debbie was appalled. "Tony – I'm surprised at you. How can you be so insensitive at a time like this?"

"I'm sorry, my Parmesan, but it is humorous to hear that Mr. Stud man lost his big chance to hide the salami."

Debbie was disgusted. "I can't believe you – of all people – just said that." She ran out the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

Tony was still smiling. "Oops. I think I have committed a – how would you say it – a boner," he said, as he turned to go after Debbie. "Which is what you were stuck with your senior year. Ha ha." He was still laughing as he walked out the door. Benny was holding his stomach in pain. He hadn't laughed that hard in months. Andie pleaded with him to stop.

Pizza Guy said, "Dude, your so-called-friends sure are rough on you. I mean, like, even on the way up here, some chick was outside, calling you names I never heard before."

Nick hung his had. "Now you all know the truth. I'm a pussy."

"No, you're not, sweetheart," said Andie. "Come here and let's talk about it."

"You guys owe me twenty-seven fifty for the pizza," said an uncompensated Pizza Guy.

"Oh, by the way," said Benny, as he slowed his hysterics to a slow chuckle, "when I was on the phone earlier, I found out Mr. Levon hired some kind of assistant to help out the company. She wants to meet with us Tuesday."

"She?" asked Nick.

"Yeah," said Benny. "And they said she has a reputation for being a real rhymes like witch."

Nick was worn down. "That's just what I need right now."

"Somebody here owes me twenty-seven fifty," said Pizza Guy.

"How come you couldn't talk about this before?" asked Andie.

"It's not something I'm exactly proud of," said Nick.

"Twenty-seven fifty, dudes"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I just haven't gotten over her."

"Like, where's my money?" asked Pizza Guy.

"I wrote her name down on some paper," said Benny, as he started digging through his pockets.

"While you're digging in there, try to find my twenty-seven fifty, dude," said Pizza Guy.

"Did you ever find out what happened to her?" asked Andie.

"I tried to find out a few times, but Mr. O'Malley always threatened me."

Benny found the slip of paper. "Did you say the girl's name was Jamie O'Malley?" he asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I thought that name sounded familiar," said Benny. "That's the same name as the woman we have a meeting with."

Nick was shocked. He reached out and clutched Andie's arm.

"No way. No fricking way. This is not happening."

"Really, Nick. I'm sure it's not the same person. I'm sure there are hundreds of Jamie O'Malleys in the country," assured Andie.

"What else does it say on that paper?" asked the frantic Nick.

"Nothing," replied Benny. "I just wrote her name and Tuesday on it."

Nick grabbed the note from Benny's hand. "Oh, God. That's her handwriting."

"Come on, Nick," said Andie. "Get a hold of yourself. Benny just said he wrote it"

"She's coming back to haunt me. She's channeling through Benny. Maw-Maw was right. She is the devil woman."

"All I want is my twenty-seven fifty, dude. No need to get all mental on me."

Nick grabbed his wallet. He pulled out two twenty-dollar bills and handed it to Pizza guy. "Here, thanks, now leave me alone."

Pizza Guy smiled and said, "That's cool, dude. Like, is this my change?"

"Yeah, whatever, just go."

"Oh, dude. Something fell out your wallet when you grabbed the cash. Later, dude." He left, smiling.

Benny bent down to pick up what fell. It was a fortune cookie insert. "Is this yours, Nick?"

Nick was starting to calm down. "I guess so. I never really look at those things. What does it say?"

Benny handed the fortune to Andie. "You tell him."

Andie looked at the slip of paper then glanced at Nick.

"Well, what does it say?" asked Nick.

"It's just a silly fortune - no big deal." She started walking to the kitchen. Nick grabbed the slip of paper from her hand. He turned pale as he read it and said nothing.

The fortune read: "A former love will re-enter your life."

CHAPTER TEN: _Sergeant Pepper_

"You know what Nick," said a cautious Benny, "I think I've had about all I can stand here. I'll take a rain check on that gumbo and I'll see you tomorrow." He turned and left.

"Don't forget your pizza," grumbled Nick, far too late for Benny to hear. He started rambling to compensate for his state of shock. "I'll see you tomorrow, Benny." He was staring at the wall. "I never noticed that stain on there. It looks like Jamie. Hey, Benny, you think that stain looks like Jamie? Oh, wait – you didn't meet her yet – but you will."

Andie wasn't sure how to handle this situation. She grabbed Nick's hand then gave him a warm hug.

"Nick, sweetheart, Benny already left."

"You see? He's already trying to get away from her, too."

"I'm sure it's not the same woman you think it is. Everything's going to be okay," she said, in a soothing voice. Nick backed away a few inches. He had never seen Andie's face this close. Her dark-blue eyes caught the motions of the lava lamp behind him. The sun was setting as the evening arrived. Her shiny brown hair reflected the warm background of a picture-perfect sunset.

He took a deep breath, and then said, "Please go, now. I really need to be alone." He pulled away from Andie, turned his back, and walked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

This was not the reaction Andie thought she would get from Nick. Their first affectionate hug was something of a surprise. Against her better judgment, she left the apartment. She knew Nick needed her friendship right now, but wasn't going to force it on him. She had a case to get ready for the next day and needed to get some rest. She also needed to get mentally ready to meet the guy Debbie was doing to fix her up with. Most important, she really needed to forget how close she just got to Nick.

Nick collapsed on his bed. He was still clutching the fortune cookie slip. A meeting with the Prince of Darkness himself seemed a better option than seeing Jamie again. He reached to his bedside and found a bottle of scotch that had been opened a few weeks previously. He saw a line waving in the middle.

"Half empty or half full?" he muttered to himself. He unscrewed the cap, drank the entire contents of the bottle, and said, "Fully empty". The effect of the cheap scotch started working. He just wanted to pass out and not deal with the situation. He started mumbling, "Jamie's coming back - slept with Benny's girlfriend - Andie's gonna have a blind date – Carlos Verona gonna kill me – pizza getting cold – Devil's in my bathroom..."

Nick found himself back at The Sting on graduation night. He was feeling the effects of the alcohol as he and Alvin took their fifth shot of tequila. He didn't want to enter the real world. Life without Jamie was something he didn't want to face. He stumbled out of the club and somehow made it to his car. He got in and made the turn on Johnston Street, heading straight to Jamie's house. He never made it. The car ended up in a ditch two blocks away. He staggered back to the club parking lot and found Mr. Robinson, sitting on an orange horse. He offered Nick a ride. As they galloped down Johnston Street, the pavement split in two and turned into a raging river. The horse, being afraid of water, threw Nick high into the air. He fell on top of his Ford Maverick as the water had raised it from the ditch. He crawled into the open window, amazed of the car's ability to float. He saw his Frampton Comes Alive eight-track in the deck. He thought it was lost. He turned it on as a huge wave of gushing water lifted the car high into the air. The car started spinning. As the song, Show Me the Way, started playing, Nick looked up in the dark sky and saw Peter Frampton. Peter was riding his Les Paul guitar like a prized Harley. With rockets on both sides, the guitar lit up the spring sky.

"Follow me, old chum. I'll show you the way," said Peter Frampton. Nick took the stick shift on his steering column and put it in the suddenly installed sixth gear, turning the car into a silver speedboat. He followed the glowing light of Frampton's rocket guitar to the north end of town. He knew exactly where he was being led. When he got a few blocks away from Jamie's house, he saw all the houses under water, except hers. The floating house started glowing as he got within reach. A swirling wind started spinning the boat out of control. The house began rising from the water and hovered over Nick. Show Me the Way segued into the theme from _The Exorcist_. Horns grew from Frampton's golden head of hair while the guitar transformed into a blood-red pitchfork. Frampton started laughing with a maniacal gusto as he flew around the house. Nick's Loyola scholarship paper was in the seat next to him. It started ringing like a telephone. Frampton began circling the house at the speed of light, causing it to lift higher. The paper wouldn't stop ringing. A deafening explosion ensued as the house burst into millions of pieces. As the smoke cleared, all that was left was the sight of Jamie sitting on Devil Frampton's pitchfork. Frampton had both arms around her while his hands clutched her beautiful breasts. She smiled at Nick as the paper kept ringing. She raised her hand in a good-bye gesture. A flash of lightning came from her hand. As it struck Nick in the arm, it caused him to pick up the ringing paper.

He cried into the scholarship, "Come back. Don't leave with Devil Frampton."

"Are you okay?" said the voice.

"Hell, no, I'm not," said Nick. "I'm talking into a Loyola scholarship and it's talking back to me."

"Nick, it's me, Andie. I'm calling to see if you're alright."

"Why does this paper feel like a phone?" asked the confused Nick.

"It is a phone," assured Andie. "I'm talking to you on the phone. You are obviously not alright."

Nick looked around his bedroom. He glanced at his clutched hand and noticed he really was talking into the phone.

"I thought this felt too heavy to be paper."

"I'm coming over, Nick. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"No, really, I'm okay," said Nick, as he came to his drunken senses. "I just had a weird dream. You stay home and get ready for your case. Talk to you later."

He hung up the phone and stumbled out of bed. Craving more alcohol, he felt his way to the kitchen. He tripped over his remote control in the living room, causing the TV to click on. He thought it was just a beer can. As he arrived in the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator. The blinding light made him realize how drunk he was. He opted for one beer instead of the whole six-pack. Not aware he had stepped on the remote, he was confused about his TV being on. He stopped for a few seconds and stared. On the screen was the movie Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, starring – Peter Frampton.

Andie hung up the phone as she sat alone in her apartment. She felt uneasy about the events that occurred at Nick's place. She picked up some files to look over them, but couldn't concentrate. Her thoughts were on Nick. She started thinking about the time they first met just over a year before...

Andie had just graduated from SMU in Dallas when she met Nick. He was there on business, scouting a local band. She was at Club Dada in Deep Ellum, an area east of downtown Dallas, with some of her classmates. This wasn't the type of place she would normally attend, but she was with friends, so it was a nice change. Nick was checking out the band, but wasn't impressed. The press release he studied was obviously written by a band relative, or so he thought. He went to the bar and ordered a Myers rum and coke. A few seconds later, Andie walked up next to him an ordered the same. Nick turned to her, eyed her up and down, and liked what he saw. He had a fixation for longhaired brunettes. For that matter, the same went for shorthaired brunettes, long and shorthaired blondes, curly and straight-haired redheads. Let's just say he had a passion for girls with any kind of hair.

"Great drink. Just got one myself," said an interested Nick.

Andie looked at Nick. She wasn't about to fall for that pick-up line. Besides, Nick was not the type of man that would interest her. His long, unruly locks characterized the kind of person she would normally stay away from.

"Yes, it is," she said, turning away from Nick. A red flag went up. He could tell by the way she said those three words that she wasn't his type. Andie came across as being on the snobby side.

"Hey, look. I'm not trying to pick you up," said Nick. "I'm just here on business. I don't know anybody, and I'm just trying to have a little conversation." He was trying to save his pride.

Andie felt a little guilty. "I'm sorry. My name is Andrea. I'm here with some friends of mine." She pointed to the table. "We just graduated from SMU and were out to celebrate."

"Well, congratulations," said Nick. "What degree did you get? Wait a second; let me guess. Psychology – no, liberal arts – no, hold on, I got it – biology."

"Law," said Andie.

"Oh, great. That's just what this world needs now. Another freaking lawyer."

Andie was taken aback. "And I suppose the world needs more of – what is it that you do?"

Nick had to stop and think. His title was so confusing; even he didn't know what he was supposed to be doing half the time. "I work for Apocalypse Records. I do what I'm doing right now."

"What, going around trying to pick up law graduates?"

"I told you, I'm not trying to pick you up. I'm scouting this band here."

Andie turned towards the band, then looked at Nick. "They're not very good."

"You're telling me," said Nick. "They sent me here 'cause Dallas is supposed to be a happening market for bands right now. I hope these guys aren't an indication."

"Where is Apocalypse Records?" asked Andie.

"We're in New Lake City. Man, these guys really suck."

Andie was familiar with New Lake City. She had sent a resume to the law firm of Wainwright & Grimes - one of the most respected firms in the country.

"Why don't you try some of the other clubs in Deep Ellum," suggested Andie.

"Not a bad idea," said Nick. "You want to come along?"

Andie waited a few seconds, and then agreed. They checked out a few clubs – not one had a band that dazzled Nick. After a couple of hours, they went back to Club Dada, but Andie's friends were gone. Nick offered Andie a ride home in his rental car, which she accepted. This wasn't the best time of night to be looking for a cab. When they got to Andie's apartment, only out of appreciation of the ride, she invited Nick in for coffee. They talked a couple of more hours, and then Nick left. He didn't try to make a move on her, which impressed Andie. Before he left, they had exchanged phone numbers. Andie thought it would be nice to know someone in New Lake City, just in case she got the job.

About one month later, Andie did get the job with Wainwright & Grimes. She moved to New Lake City, got in touch with Nick, and a great friendship started. There was never anything more. They would go to concerts, movies, dinner, or sometimes just watch TV together. They hardly ever had any form of physical contact. There was rarely a hug or even a friendly handshake. Not touching each other in any way, shape, or form was an assumed agreement between the two of them...

Now, Andie realized Nick needed help and she was his best friend. Maybe he is having feelings for me, she thought. That would destroy their friendship. She needed their friendship more than a relationship. He was her rock – not a steady foundation, but something she could rely on. There was never a threat of a relationship casualty. She could hang out with Nick and never worry about him not being there for her. He always was. He was also an excuse for her not getting involved with anyone. She convinced herself that Nick needed her. He really didn't. In fact, Nick didn't need anybody, at least until now. This wasn't the time to be taking no for an answer, but she did. Instead of going to Nick's apartment against his wishes, she called her next best friend, Debbie. Debbie's phone rang six times, and then the machine answered...

"Hi. You've reached Deborah Bailey. If you are with any theatrical organization, please leave a message and I'll get right back with you. If you are anybody else, have a nice day. Bye."

"Deb, it's me. Just wanted to talk. I guess I'll just see you tomorrow at work. Good night." Andie had forgotten Debbie was spending the night at Tony's apartment. She hung up the phone, put her files on the coffee table, and then turned on the TV. She started watching Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

Debbie and Tony were lying in bed. She was still a little peeved about Tony's behavior earlier.

"Is my little linguini still upset?" he asked.

"You know, sweetheart," she said, "I'm really disappointed in you."

"I promise I will last longer next time, my love," said the embarrassed Tony, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"No, you idiot, not that. I was talking about what you said to Nick."

"I do not understand your disappointment."

"Nick is going through a rough time. He needs some help."

"Is it your obligation to help him?" Tony never quite grasped the meaning of true friendship the same way Debbie embraced it.

"I think it's both of ours," said Debbie. "He doesn't need you teasing him."

"I am sorry, my pepperoni, but Nicholas is a big boy. I think he is jealous of Andie going out with your new boss."

"It hasn't happened yet."

"Oh, but it will. Nicholas will be losing his best friend to another man. She will not have time for him anymore."

"She'll still have time for him. Besides, didn't you see the way he reacted to the possibility of Andie going out with Harold?"

"Harold," said Tony. "So, you are already on a first name basis with your new boss?" It was his turn to start showing a little jealously.

"We've been over this before, sweetheart. I'm just trying to make Andie happy. She's a great friend and I want to see her as happy as I am."

"What about Nicholas?"

"I think both of them are vulnerable right now. If Nick has feelings for Andie, maybe seeing her with Harold might bring him around to get off his ass and do something about it."

Tony had a mischievous grin. "You said ass."

"Yeah, so what?"

"It gets me excited. I've never heard you speak in a profane manner."

Debbie smiled, raised her eyebrows and asked, "So just what are you going to do about it?"

Five minutes later, Tony was fast asleep with a huge smile on his face. Debbie was smiling, herself, but still was restless. She grabbed the TV remote from the nightstand and clicked it on. She started watching Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

Benny was sitting on a barstool in his home. He had papers spread all over the bar. The television was tuned to the local news, in hope of getting more information about Zipper Down's death. He stared at the sprawled out plethora of papers. Contracts, charts, payroll records, and other various aggravations of a record company executive seemed to be snickering at him. Benny's performance at Apocalypse had dropped a great deal since he started seeing Kat. He knew the arrival of Jamie was as much a threat to him as it was to Nick. Unfortunately, Nick was his biggest problem. Benny had been letting Nick get away with slacking. Nick hadn't written any songs in months, and missed several recording sessions because of his lack of sobriety. Benny had the responsibility of being Nick's boss – one that was hard to bear. He knew Nick's work would be brought up at the meeting with Jamie. He took a gulp of orange juice, and then turned to the TV when he heard news about Zipper Down. The reporter announced it was an apparent choking, but foul play hadn't been ruled out.

Benny stalled at first, then picked up the phone and called Kat's apartment. The phone rang a dozen times and the answering machine didn't pick up. He felt pathetic for even attempting the call. He strolled into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and opened a bottle of sparkling wine. He rarely drank socially and never drank alone. Tonight was the exception. He poured the wine into his half-empty glass of orange juice forming his favorite drink. He was leading the good, albeit lonely, life thanks to Apocalypse Records. He needed to forget about Kat and get his career back on track. He really missed his Lexus. Benny walked to his imported leather recliner, plopped down, and reached for his remote. No new information about Zipper Down would be heard tonight since the weather segment was now showing. He flipped the channel on his 52"-screen-television. It was connected to a satellite capable of receiving over 300 channels. MTV was playing a Nirvana video for the umpteenth time. VH-1 was showing a Mariah Carey video – again. The Nashville Network was showing a Garth Brooks interview, the same one he'd seen ten times. After sampling all the music channels available, he settled on the station showing Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

CHAPTER ELEVEN: _Stormy Monday_

Andie Jenson was born in Carrolton, Texas. Her lifelong dream was to be a lawyer. Her father, Joseph, was Baptist minister and her mother, Grace, was a teacher. Her strict father made sure he screened any potential boyfriend Andie brought home. She was a beautiful, blue-eyed brunette and he knew every boy would be after her for one thing – it was the same way he ended up with her mother. Realizing that no boy would meet her father's standards, she didn't date. Her college years at Baylor University loosened her up a bit. She had a few boyfriends but nothing serious. Attending law school at SMU introduced her to whole new class of intelligent males. She dated handsome, reserved men. She enjoyed their company but her sex life was far from exciting. She always kept her strict standards for men. She never understood why she became friends with Nick.

Andie was lying in bed, after falling asleep to the boring movie. She was startled to hear the creaking sound of her doorknob turning. Hearing her door open, she looked up and saw Nick. He burst into her bedroom, wearing a silk robe. As he flicked the ashes of his cigar on the carpet, his other hand reached for the sunglasses he was wearing. He gave Andie a seductive smile as he walked to the window. He opened it slightly to let the sound of the beating rain enhance the mood. He was about to disrobe when he noticed the mess he made on the carpet with the cigar ashes. Nick went to her hall closet to get her vacuum cleaner. He walked back into the bedroom wearing absolutely nothing.

As he was about to start the vacuum, Andie heard a voice say, "Sucks like a damn vacuum cleaner. What do you think about all this rain, Jim?"

She didn't care what Jim had to say as she slapped her snooze button. Looking up, she realized it was a dream and the image of naked Nick was gone. The soothing sound of the rain made her fall back asleep. The next sight she saw was a Foreigner concert. She had always loved this band as a little girl. She was in the front row, screaming at Lou Graham, the lead singer. As he raised his head and waved his hair to each side of his face, Andie saw that it was really Nick. He was singing Blue Morning. All the teenage girls next to her were throwing panties on the stage at Nick. She reached over and hit her snooze button. The song stopped, and Andie fell asleep again. The next thing she knew, she was watching The Mamas & Papas singing Monday, Monday. Standing next to Mama Cass was Nick. He was wearing a Nehru jacket and a fur hat, looking into Andie's eyes as he sang the song.

"Those guys must have been singing that song about today, don't you think, Carl?"

Andi slapped her snooze button as if she were actually smacking Jim and Carl in the face. The soothing splatter of the pouring rain sent Andie back to sleep. The next thing she knew, Andie was in a smoke-filled lounge. She was sipping a martini as she watched an old man singing Stormy Monday. He was wearing a fedora with dark glasses as he tickled the ivory keys of the baby grand. He turned towards Andie, slid the glasses down his nose, and stared deep into her eyes. This time, it wasn't Nick. The man had an evil presence. He got up from behind the piano and walked towards her. Andie was getting chills as he sat next to her and said, " I would sure hate to be out in this traffic, Jim. It's 7:15, the rain is causing some flooding, and the traffic is already backed up on the expressway."

The man was holding Andie's clock radio, just out of her reach so she couldn't slap the snooze button. He started running, laughing as he pulled away from Andie. She started chasing after him as she heard him say, "There's a wreck on the South Freeway and the Loop is feeling the result of the backup..."

She opened her eyes and realized where she was. She had overslept more than an hour and her 45-minute commute to work was going to take twice that long with the bad weather and traffic problems. She threw on a dress, put her hair in a ponytail, brushed her teeth, and ran out the door. Her parking lot was flooded. The water was four-inches deep. The wind blew her umbrella inside out; leaving the frustrated Andie drenched. She climbed in her car, sped out of the parking lot and headed towards the South Freeway. The traffic was at a complete standstill five blocks from the entrance ramp. Andie adjusted her rearview mirror to see herself. She looked dreadful. Then it hit her – this was the face that would be seen by the handsome attorney she was to meet that day. She re-adjusted the mirror and put her Toyota Camry in neutral.

She put her hands to the back of her neck and let out a big scream, "I hate this fricken city."

Meanwhile, on the northeast turn of the Loop, Benny sat in his Yugo. The traffic was at a near standstill. The defroster was broken, so he had to keep wiping the windshield with a towel. With a swirling motion, the Downtown Expressway sign was revealed. He worked his way into the exit lane. A quick glance at his temperature gauge showed past the H mark. Smoke started spewing from the engine. He was going up the ramp, so there was no way he could stop. He had one foot on the clutch and the other was revving the engine in first gear. The car in back of him was about an inch away. The rain was pouring harder. He started hearing a strange whirring sound as the windshield wipers started moving slower. The combination of smoke, rain, and the wipers near death made visibility close to zero. He rolled his window down and stuck his head out into the deluge. A sudden wind blew his Armani glasses off his face. He squinted his way onto the expressway. His transmission started shaking below him, as his top speed was ten miles per hour. Luckily, the traffic was only moving five. He hadn't moved at all in five minutes so he turned the radio louder as the traffic report started, "...And the Downtown expressway is backed up all the way to the Northeast entrance from the Loop. There's a car on fire at the entrance so that'll probably slow things down some more. That's traffic this morning. Back to you, Jim and Carl."

"Thanks, Captain Sky Dude. Hey, Jim, let's dedicate a song to that poor soul with the car on fire. Here's Fire and Rain by our old buddy, James Taylor."

Benny started laughing to stifle the oncoming tears. At least someone was having a worse morning than me, he thought. At that instant, he saw the flames rise above his windshield.

Andie pulled into the parking garage of the Kensington Building, one hour later than planned. The building was a two-year old high rise in the trendy area of the city, just southwest of Downtown. Wainwright & Grimes occupied the 10th, 11th, and 12th floors. Andie made her way up the elevator, trying to fix herself up in the process. The elevator stopped at the second floor and a handsome man entered, carrying a cup of coffee. Andie kept facing the opposite direction, trying to touch up her face using the little mirror from her purse. Stopping on the 10th floor, Andie walked off, not noticing the man making a waving gesture at Debbie, who was sitting behind the receptionist desk.

"What in the world happened to you?" asked a smiling Debbie.

"Don't ask. Why are you playing receptionist?"

"Ginger called in sick, so I'm filling in until the temp gets here. I see you met Harold."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you enjoy your elevator ride with him?"

Andie was mortified. "Please don't tell me that was him."

"Of course it was. Didn't you talk to him?"

"Look at me. I'm not ready to face the janitor, much less a handsome stranger in the elevator."

"Well, you better be ready to meet someone a little higher up than the janitor in twenty minutes."

"Why?" asked Andie.

"Mr. Grimes wants to meet with you at ten-thirty in his office."

Andie put her hands over her face to muffle the scream. She turned and ran back into the elevator, down to the first floor. She zoomed into LuAnn's, a little boutique near the lobby. She grabbed the first size six dress off the rack, threw her Visa card on the counter, then yelled at the clerk to ring her up while she changed. One minute later, she was out the dressing room wearing her new dress. She signed her receipt, threw her rain-soaked dress in a bag, and scurried across the lobby into Ramone's Hair Boutique.

"I need a quick blow dry. It's an emergency," ordered Andie.

The stylist saw the panic in Andie's face and immediately had her in a chair. Andie adjusted her make-up while getting her hair dried. Five minutes later, she handed the stylist a twenty and ran to the elevator.

When it stopped on the 10th floor, she yelled at Debbie, "Throw this in my office," as she hurled her wet dress like a bowling ball at Debbie without leaving the elevator. The door closed and the next stop was the 12th floor.

The taxi carrying Benny arrived at the Eagleton Building at ten-thirty. At 30 stories high, it was the tallest building in New Lake City, located downtown on Main Street. Apocalypse Records occupied the top three floors, with their recording studio taking up the second floor. He stopped at the second floor, hoping to see Nick doing some kind of work. Benny was two and half-hours late, but Nick's apartment was in the Village, which was a ten minute walk from there. The studio was empty. Benny's office was on the 30th floor, but he took the elevator to the 28th. He took the back stairs up two flights, by-passing the graphic arts department, which was located near the elevator on the 29th floor. He definitely didn't want to see Kat this morning.

Peter Grimes was the latter namesake of the Wainwright and Grimes Law Firm. Andie never had a one-on-one conversation with him. William Wainwright was the actual partner that hired her. She would be in the same room as Peter during staff meetings but was never noticed by him. He liked to keep meetings with his lower level attorneys on as an-needed basis. His suave demeanor and rugged, handsome appearance made him a natural for being the successful attorney he was. He mastered the art of faking sincerity and learned to trust no one, except his longtime personal secretary, Ursula Vanderhousen. Ursula was a master of keeping unnecessary people away from Peter. Andie was familiar with Vanderhousen's reputation. She was supposedly a mean old ugly witch. She walked up to Ursula's desk and was remarkably pleased to find a rather attractive older woman behind it. She appeared to be in her early fifties and didn't look menacing at all. Andie prepared herself for what she hoped was a pleasant introduction.

"May I help you?" asked Ms. Vanderhousen, as she pulled her reading glasses down her nose.

"I'm Andrea Jenson. Mr. Grimes is expecting me."

Ursula checked her appointment book, looked at her watch, and said, "You're two minutes late. I'll let him know you're here." She picked up the phone and buzzed Mr. Grimes. "Your ten-thirty is finally here, sir – yes, sir, I'll send her right in." She put the phone down then looked at Andie. "He'll be ready for you in about ten minutes," she said with a snarl.

Andie was confused. "I don't mean to contradict you, Miss Van..."

"It's Ms., thank you very much."

"Ms. Vanderhouse, but..."

"It's Vanderhousen, missy."

Andie took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Ms. Vanderhousen, but didn't I just hear you tell Mr. Grimes I would be right in?"

"You're new here, aren't you?" She took off her glasses and used them as a pointer towards Andie. She studied her up and down.

"No, ma'am, I've been here for about a year. This is my first case to be first chair." Andie stood proud. "I've never had the privilege to work directly under Mr. Grimes before."

Ms. Vanderhousen stared at Andie's legs. "It's a wonder it took you a whole year, dressing like that." She shook her head in disgust as she put her glasses back on her face.

Andie glanced to a side mirror on the wall and saw what she meant. The dress barely covered her upper thighs. In her rush, she didn't look close enough at the length. This was no way near her conservative style.

"You can have a seat, Jenson," said Ursula, with a sneer.

Just as Andie was about to sit, Mr. Grimes opened the door.

"What's keeping you, Miss Jenson? Come on in," said Mr. Grimes.

Andie followed Mr. Grimes into the office, giving Ms. Vanderhousen a nasty glance as she passed her desk. As she closed the door behind her, Andie saw an amazing panoramic view of the city. The corner office had two full walls of glass overlooking the city. She was at eye level with the rainbow peeking over the dissipating clouds.

"Have a seat, Miss Jenson," said Mr. Grimes. Drooling over the sight of Andie's exposed legs, he added, "Or should I call you Andrea?"

"Everybody calls me Andie, sir."

"Well, everybody calls me Peter. Don't worry about all that sir business. You can call me Pete, if you'd like." He glanced in a mirror, making sure every strand of his salt and pepper hair was in place. "I've been impressed with your work at our firm, Andie, and I thought it would be a good time to give you your own case." His eyes were fixed on Andie's legs.

"I appreciate you noticing my work," said Andie.

"Oh, I've noticed." He got up from behind his desk and walked towards Andie. "I'm giving you this case involving an particularly important client. Have you heard of Carlos Verona?"

"Yes, sir. I do believe I have."

"Remember what I said about this sir thing. Anyway, Mr. Verona has a restaurant called Little Italy on Lakeside Drive, and an unfortunate incident involving an alleged food poisoning has taken place. I'd like you to handle the case. I trust you already have begun reviewing food poisoning precedents like you were instructed."

"Yes, sir, I..."

"Ah, what did I just say?"

"Yes, um, Pete." Andie was intimidated. "Ms. Vanderhousen sent me some files on Friday to look over during the weekend."

"That Ms. Vanderhousen is a jewel. I don't know what I'd do without her. She literally runs this place. My only regret is that I didn't notice your attributes much sooner." He walked behind Andie's chair, put his hands on her shoulders, and then started rubbing them in a gentle fashion.

Andie was extremely uncomfortable. "Excuse me, Mr. Grimes, but this is..." Andie's objection was interrupted as the office door flew open. Mr. Grimes jumped back as Ms. Vanderhousen burst into his office.

"You're wife is here to see you, sir," she announced.

"Well, send that beautiful wife of mine right in," he said, loud enough to be heard in the outer office. "That'll be all, Miss Jenson."

Andie stood up, shook his hand, and said, "Thank you – sir." As she was walking out, Peter's wife, Francine, was walking in. Andie smiled as Mrs. Grimes gave her a catty look.

As Francine was closing the office door, Andie heard her say, "Peter, your associates need to wear more appropriate attire." Although she was a beautiful woman herself, she was well aware of Peter's tendency towards womanizing.

"Really? I hadn't noticed, dear."

Andie didn't know weather to feel elated or disgusted.

Robert Levon was head of Apocalypse Records. He was a WWII veteran who was involved in the mission resulting in the Hiroshima bombing. He didn't handle civilian life well and ended up in jail for a short time. Disturbing the peace and public intoxication were the charges. His incarceration made him realize that no matter what he had done during the war, he was in charge of his own destiny. He started up his own record company. His love for music and the constant haunting of the bombing motivated him up to come up with company's name. He hated rock and roll but was business savvy enough to know how to make his company thrive. He would always hire young people who were up to speed on the current music scene and would mold them to his liking. The combination resulted in many years of successful recordings. Benny was his latest protégé.

Benny found his office after making the roundabout trip to get there. As soon as he sat behind his well-organized desk, Mr. Levon stormed in.

"Where in the hell have you been?" asked Mr. Levon. He stood there, all 6'2", 250 pounds of him.

"I'm sorry sir. My car caught on fire and..."

"That was your car? I heard about that on the radio this morning. I thought you had a brand new Lexus?"

Benny started sweating. He was thankful that his clothes were still wet so Mr. Levon didn't notice.

"It's in the shop. I had to take my Yugo this morning."

"You still have that piece of shit car?" Mr. Levon wasn't impressed. "Get yourself a damn rental. I pay you enough. I don't want my executives driving around in piece of shit cars. You are the VP of talent. Show some respect for your position." As president and owner of Apocalypse Records, he liked to see Benny live up to his own standards. "Now, what's all this crap about some Zipper character killing himself?"

"I'm working on it right now, sir."

"I'm not paying some hippie band good money to go around killing themselves. It's bad business. We got this takeover crap happening and I want all our affairs in order."

Benny was startled. "What takeover? I thought you were hiring an assistant to help you out."

Mr. Levon calmed down, put his hand on Benny's shoulder and said, "No, son. It looks like some pansy-ass company is buying us out. They're sending this O'Malley woman here to check us out and make necessary changes. So do yourself a favor. Get to the bottom of this Zipper crap and get your people prepared for the worse."

"Sir, you've got to be kidding." Benny couldn't believe what he was hearing. He never dreamed that once the stock for Apocalypse Records went public, something like this could happen.

"Benny, I would never kid about something as serious as losing my company." He hung his head as he walked out the office.

"What in the heck am I going to do now?" Benny said to himself. He had never seen Mr. Levon with a defeated look before. "I need to find Nick." He picked up the phone and hit number one on the speed dial. The phone rang ten times before the answer machine picked up.

"...Hi. You've called my number. It's obvious I'm not answering. If you don't know what to do next, you're an idiot and shouldn't be allowed to use the phone. Have a nice day."

Benny didn't bother to leave a message.

CHAPTER TWELVE: _Don't Touch Gerome_

Gerome Elderberry always reacted on instinct. He knew the death of Zipper down would most likely be treated as an accident or suicide. He had a gut feeling that a murder had taken place. He was going to explore every possible clue. He loved to create suspicion. His first stop would be Apocalypse Records.

Benny was still trying to call Nick with no luck. He called the police headquarters to see if new information had been found on Zipper's death. Nothing else was released. His phone rang just as he hung up with the police.

"Benny Myers here," he answered in his always-professional voice.

"Benny, there's some weird guy here asking questions about that Zipper dude," said Kristi Love, the ex-centerfold model who was now the receptionist at Apocalypse. Nick kept that issue in his archives.

Benny's first thought was Kat. "Try to keep him occupied 'till I get down there," he said. He didn't want the police to find about Kat just yet."

"How do I do that?" she asked.

"Sweetheart, there's not a man in the world you couldn't keep occupied."

"Oh, yeah. I guess you're right." Kristi got up from behind the desk and walked over to Elderberry, who was questioning others. Her bleached-blonde hair was flowing over her shoulders. She was wearing a sheer cotton blazer with a silk camisole peeking out over the top. It was low enough to show ample cleavage, which she displayed so well. She had only two inches of skirt hanging below her jacket, revealing a pair of well-toned legs. Her five-inch stiletto heels also helped bring attention to them. She grabbed Gerome's arm with a sexy touch.

"Why don't you let me get you some – coffee?" She purred, giving him a seductive smile that would melt the coldest of hearts.

He looked at her and smiled. "Honey, you are the second person to put their hands on me today. I don't like people touching me. So if you don't take that pretty little hand off me right now, sister, I'll take it and put it where the sun don't shine. Get the damn hell away from me."

"What seems to be the problem?" said Mr. Levon, as he came to see about all the commotion.

"This man is an asshole," said Kristi.

"I'm Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry with Metro homicide," he said, as he flipped out his badge. "And you would be?"

"I don't care who you are. You don't come here disrupting my business and my people," said a livid Mr. Levon.

"Oh - your business and your people," said Elderberry. "Well – Mr. Levon, I presume – I've done my homework and it seems like your business is in the process of being bought out. I have a possible homicide involving a victim, who was under contract of your record company, so I suggest you move your big fat ass out my way and let me do my job."

Benny ran up just in time to grab Mr. Levon's arm, as it was about to swing towards Elderberry's face.

"Can I be of some assistance here?" asked Benny.

"And you are?" asked Gerome.

"Ben Myers. I'm in charge of Zipper Down's contract." He turned to Mr. Levon. "I'll take it from here, sir."

Mr. Levon took several deep breaths, and then gave Elderberry one last dirty look. His red face was a sharp contrast against his white hair. As he walked away, they could hear him mutter, "Pansy-ass, son-of-a-bitch."

"So how can I help you?" asked Benny.

"Well, for one thing, you can make me feel more at home here than these other two idiots I've come in contact with," said Elderberry.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"That would be wonderful. Cream and four sugars."

"Kristi, would you mind getting this gentleman some coffee, please?"

Kristi looked at Benny. "For one thing, don't use the word gentleman to describe this person – and second, get the damn coffee yourself. I quit." She grabbed her purse and left.

"I'm seeing a lot of that today," said Gerome. "Must be the horrible weather. By the way, was she at the party Saturday night?"

"I do believe she was," said Benny.

"I may need to question her later. I need a list of people who were at the party."

"May I ask why?"

"Since you're the only one who's shown me some respect, I'll let you in on something. I don't think Zipper Down, which I might add is quite a clever name, died accidentally."

"And you think somebody with Apocalypse may be involved?"

"I just want to check out all my avenues. I heard from a couple of your people I just questioned that Mr. Down presumably left the party rather early with a certain young lady. I'd like to question her, if I may."

"I think Kat's at lunch."

Elderberry smiled. "I never said her name."

Benny was stuck. "No, it's just, uh, Kat – Kat is the girl who saw Zipper leaving with someone. She would be the one who would help you find her. But – you know – like I said, she's at lunch." He was feeling like a complete fool for protecting her.

"Why are you sweating?" Benny was sweating profusely, but had a cover.

"My car caught on fire this morning and I was out in the rain, and..."

"You're the poor idiot?" Gerome was in hysterics.

"I don't think it's very amusing, sir, if you don't mind."

"I may be wrong," said Elderberry, between chuckles, "but maybe Zipper Down did commit suicide. If I were him and I was under contract with a bunch of stupid idiots like you, I sure would."

Benny reached his limit. "Officer, would you..."

"That's Lieutenant - Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry. You can call me Sir"

"Uh, Sir, would you please come back another time? We're really busy."

"Sounds like you have something to hide, Myers. I'll be back to talk to this Kat person. I also want to talk to Nicholas Pel-tire. See you real soon. Forget about the coffee. I'd be afraid to drink anything from this place." He took a handkerchief from his pocket, and then grabbed a pencil from Kristi's desk with it. "I'll bring it back - promise." He slithered his way to the elevator.

Benny needed to talk to Kat. He was shaking as he walked to the small office housing the graphic arts department. Kat's desk was empty – she really was at lunch. He went back to his office to call Nick's apartment one more time. Still, no one picked up the phone.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: _The Name Game_

Nick was sitting on his balcony, sipping his third cup of coffee. The heavy rain had subsided to relaxing drizzle. He kept ignoring the telephone, which had been ringing all morning. From this vantage point, Nick could see the Eagleton building, Rollins University, and the 7-Eleven where Tony worked. This section of the city, known as the Village, was a quiet community nestled between the downtown area and the campus. The homes resembled the architectural style of the houses on St. Charles Avenue in uptown New Orleans. Most of the homes had been converted to apartment houses. Nick shared his with Tony, who occupied the other half of the upstairs section, and Mrs. Ratzenburger, the owner of the house who lived downstairs. The house was on the corner of Maplewood and Cedar, giving Nick a good view from his balcony. Nick needed another distraction. He went back inside and grabbed his Playboy magazine from the coffee table. As he glanced at the feature titled Girls of the Big 12, a familiar picture caught his eye. The sexy redhead's name was Kiki Thomas. Her bio stated she majored in Philosophy at TCU. She was pursuing a singing career and worked part-time as a hotel clerk in Dallas. He remembered having sex with her the night he met Andie about a year previously. The picture displayed her topless with a bikini bottom but Nick vividly remembered her being a true redhead. He recalled something bizarre about the sex but didn't remember what. If fact, he had trouble remembering any sexual encounter since that night.

"So much for distractions," he muttered. Having no intention of going to work, Nick had to get out for a walk. As he ventured outside, he met up with Mrs. Ratzenburger. She was an eighty-year-old widow who thought of Nick and Tony as her own grandchildren.

"Is that you, Marcus?" she asked, as Nick walked by.

"It's Nicholas. Yes, ma'am. Good morning Mrs. R." He was used to her trouble with names. She squinted as she grabbed Nick's cheek and pulled him closer.

"You don't look to well, honey. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"Yes, ma'am. I've been getting plenty. You don't have to worry about me." He didn't like to burden her with his problems.

"But I do worry. You and Anthony are such sweet boys and you need someone to look after you."

"Its Antonio. Thank you, but really, I'm fine."

"I don't believe you. Come inside and I'll make you a cup of coffee." She was lonely since Sister Mary Francis died. They were friends for ten years. Nick followed her into the house and was greeted by a huge, satiny black cat. It was tearing up an envelope with an Apocalypse Records logo printed on the return address. The rents checks were always on time.

"I don't remember ever seeing this one around," said Nick.

"Oh, I just got her from the shelter last Friday. Somebody found her wandering around Devil Creek."

"You mean to say Deville Creek, don't you?"

"Yes, I'm so sorry. I don't know why I keep calling it that. Ever since my dear Bernard passed away while working at our little store, I've had trouble with that name. In fact, I have trouble with every name, Mike."

"Nick."

"Oh, dear. You see what I mean?"

"What store are you talking about?"

"I don't think I've ever told you this story. We owned a little propane dealership near Devil - I mean - Deville Creek. Bernard suffered a heart attack and died right there in the parking lot. That was over thirty years ago. I still miss him so much."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," said Nick.

"Thank you, dear."

"Whatever happened to the store?"

"I didn't do anything to it. That property has belonged to the Ratzenburger family for years. I couldn't bear to sell it, but I didn't want it to keep it open. It's still standing there, abandoned near the creek. Bernard's father, Sal, died from a hunting accident in the creek. Did I say Sal? I meant Saul. His grandfather, Edwin, drowned – I'm sorry, I meant Ephron, drowned in the shallow water while fishing. His great-grandfather – I won't even bother with that name \- died when a dead tree branch fell on him near the creek. His great-great-grandfather was the famous Martin Ratzenburger. He hung himself from a tree near the creek. There's nothing going on in that area anymore. That's why I'm particularly fond of this kitty. She was by herself in the middle of nowhere."

The cat was purring as it circled Nick's legs, rubbing them with apparent affection. He wasn't particularly fond of cats, but decided to pet it anyway. As his hand was about an inch from the cat's head, it reached up and scratched him.

"Damn it," screamed Nick, as he pulled away.

"Bad Jamie, don't do that," said Mrs. Ratzenburger, as the little monster ran away.

Nick was shocked. "Your cat's name is Jamie? Are you sure that's the name you wanted to say?"

"Isn't that a strange name for a kitty? I didn't give it to her. The lady at the shelter had already named her, so I'll just keep it. I guess it's better than the name I wanted to give her."

"What name was that?"

"Satan." She meant to say Satin.

"I gotta go." Nick stormed out the house and headed down the street towards the 7-Eleven. The street was crowded with a combination of little upscale shops and college hangouts. As he walked in front of La Petite Maison, he got an eerie feeling. It felt like something weird was going to happen there. He walked across to the 7-Eleven. Tony was usually working his only morning shift on Mondays, but the spring semester was in session and he was taking classes. A new girl was working behind the counter. Nick gave her a quick glance, but wasn't impressed. She didn't acknowledge Nick's entrance. She was about 5'2", had full Goth make-up, and gave the impression of not wanting to be working there. Nick grabbed an apple pie and placed it on the counter.

"That all you want?" she asked.

"That's it," said Nick, as he looked at her nametag. It read JEANIE. She noticed Nick staring at the tag.

"Do you have a problem, man?" she asked Nick.

"I was just looking at your name tag," replied Nick.

"That's not my name. They screwed up the spelling. Stupid foreigners." She didn't have the friendliest of demeanors.

Nick had to ask. "How is it supposed to be spelled?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I was just curious."

"Frankly, I don't think it's any of your business."

"Forget it," said Nick, as he threw two dollars on the counter and headed to the door.

"You forgot your change, man."

"You can keep the fricking penny," said Nick.

"Hey, don't cop an attitude with me, man."

The non-confrontational Nick turned back. "Look, I was just trying to be nice. I'm having a rough time right now and I was just trying to be nice. Do you have a problem with me being nice? Because, if you do, I can be just as much of a shit as you. So, just let me be nice – Jeanie."

The girl went on the defensive. "I'm sorry, man, and it's Jamie. They misspelled my name tag"

"What?" Nick freaked out.

"Hey, I can be nice too. I just said I was sorry. I mean, come on, for God's sake. What the hell do you want from me? I'm just a clerk at a 7-Eleven. They're not paying me minimum wage to sit behind this fricking counter to kiss your ass."

"Oh, yeah? Well, I don't have to take that kind of crap from some Goth wannabe loser." Nick was enraged as he headed out the door. He turned around again to make one last remark. "And by the way, Jamie is– by far – the worst name in this whole, entire, universe." As he turned to face the door, he eyes were at chin level with a tall, sweaty figure. "You got a problem with the name Jamie?" asked the mammoth man, who was wearing a Rollins University football jersey.

Being 5'11", 175 pounds, the threatening sight terrified Nick. "I'm not exactly fond of that name at the moment."

"Well, it just happens to be my name," said the intimidating force, "and if you don't like it, I can take you outside and make sure you never use it again."

Nick realized who this man was, as the number 98 was a few inches from his nose. He was Jamie Dumbrowski, the star defensive tackle for the Rollins University Demons. He was there on a full scholarship but earned spending money by working for Carlos Verona. He was ejected for punching a referee during the last game of the season. The ref had called Dumbrowski for being offside – Dumbrowski obviously didn't agree with him.

"Hey, I know who you are," said Nick, as he tried to talk his way out of a certain beating. "You're Jamie Dumbrowski, the greatest defensive tackle to ever play with the Demons. Man, I saw that play where the ref called you offside. You had every right to hit that stupid jerk. You definitely were not offside."

"Damn right, I wasn't."

"As a matter of fact, the names Jamie and Demons are synonymous. You wear that name well."

"Well, thank you, sir," said Dumbrowski. "I don't think I need to kick your ass anymore. Have a nice day." He held the door open for Nick, who was wiping the sweat off his forehead as he strolled out the door.

He opened his apple pie while walking on the side of the 7-Eleven. He stopped when he heard a faint voice.

"Did you enjoy watching Peter Frampton make a fool of himself last night?" said the voice.

Nick looked around to see where it was coming from. It seemed to be from the other side of the dumpster. He walked over and saw the same homeless man from six months earlier, when he first met Tony.

"Did you say something about Peter Frampton?" asked Nick.

"I sure did, son. That movie he made was a career ender. He shouldn't ever have done it."

"How did you know I watched that movie last night?"

The old man took a sip of whiskey from the bottle. "I was walking past your place last night, saw the movie playing on that TV set through your blinds. Shame that such a talented guitarist like Frampton had to stoop so low to make such a crappy movie."

Nick was amazed. The man looked to be in his sixties. He was wearing what appeared to be the same clothes, smelled as if he hadn't bathed in at least that long, and was more drunk than Nick can ever remember himself being.

"How do you know so much about Peter Frampton?" asked Nick.

"I used to play guitar myself. Played jazz, you know, the good stuff. Then that rock and roll crap took over and I couldn't handle it. My style didn't fit. I lost the only girl I ever loved and took to the bottle. Kept up with music, though. That Hendrix kid, the best I ever heard. He had too many demons following him."

"What do you mean by demons?"

"You know - demons. The same kind that's been following you. Hendrix had those demons following so close - they made him choke on his own vomit. That Frampton character, best melodic guitarist I ever heard, had the superstar demon following him. Thought he could do it all because of that Frampton Comes Alive album. Bad move, making that movie. The Devil knocked him down a few notches."

"What do you know about my demons?" asked an intrigued Nick.

"You got those bad boys everywhere. I can see it in your face. I've been seeing you round here for months. I saw you throw up the Devil's meal right here. You can't let them do that to you, kid. You'll end up like me."

Nick was enthralled. "Do you know Tony from this 7-Eleven?"

"Nice boy, that Tony. Gives me food from time to time and lets me sleep in the back room. Don't tell anybody I said that. He might get fired"

"Do you think he's the Devil?"

"For all you know, I might be the Devil. He's everywhere you think he is. He's in your bathroom..."

"Wait a second. What do you know about the Devil being in my bathroom?"

"I'm just trying to say that he's in your bathroom, your closet, your kitchen cabinets. You know, anywhere you could believe he might be hiding. I can tell you this – I think you're about to meet your biggest demon of all."

"What makes you say that?"

"I heard you talking to that new girl in the store right there. The back door was open, so I gave a listen. You had the Devil coming out your mouth. You never talk like that to anybody."

Nick was disturbed. "You don't even know me."

The old man took another swig of whiskey. "Look, son, I know people. I can tell you're a good kid who has some big demons following him, and the way you're acting, I can tell you're getting worked up for the big one."

Nick was taking him seriously. "How do you think I'll handle it?"

The old man put down the whisky bottle, put his hand on Nick's shoulder and said, "Son – that demon is gonna kick your ass."

Nick pulled away as the old man started hysterical laughter. "Screw you, old man," screamed Nick.

"You see – ha, ha – you never talk to people like that. He's already got a grip on you. That Devil's gonna kick your scared little ass. Ha, ha."

"Kiss my ass, you old son-of-a-bitch." Nick was surprised those words came from his lips. He was even more shocked when he felt a huge hand grab his shoulder. It belonged to Dumbrowski.

"I've had enough of you disrespecting people for one day," said Dumbrowski.

The next thing Nick saw was a clenched fist between his eyes, followed by darkness. When his eyes opened, he thought he had died and gone to heaven. When the angel lifting him up came into focus, he realized it was Kristi.

"Are you okay, Nick?" she asked.

"Depends on what you call okay."

"What happened to you?"

Nick shook his head, and then put his hand to his face. "I just got an all-American whoop-ass kicking." He didn't feel any blood, but knew there would be two black eyes immerging soon.

"Let me give you a ride home." She helped Nick into the front seat of her Corvette, and then went around to the driver's side.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"I just quit. I was on my way home and saw you laying there."

"Why did you quit?"

"Well, for one thing, your boss had me trying to come on to some gay detective and..."

"Whoa, wait a second. What was a detective doing at work?"

"Something to do with that whole Zipper Down mess. That's your apartment house, isn't it?" she said, as she approached Nick's home.

"Yeah," said Nick. A car was parked in front as Kristi pulled in behind it. The car door opened and out popped Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry.

"Nick, get out the car, now. I'll call you later to see if you need anything." Nick was still groggy from the hit, and didn't quite know what to make of Kristi's haste.

"Okay, thanks." He got out the car just as Kristi sped off.

"Looks like your friend was in a hurry to get somewhere," said Elderberry, "or at least away from here."

"Do I know you?"

"I'm Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry, from Metro Homicide. Am I correct to assume that you are Nicholas Pel-tire?"

"It's Pel – tee – ay."

"I stand corrected. My apologies."

"No problem. I'm used to people screwing up my name over here. You're not the first."

Gerome didn't like that comment. "First of all, I did not screw up your name. I simply mispronounced it. Second, I don't appreciate you insinuating any form of incompetence towards me."

"But I wasn't insinuating. I was flat out telling you."

"Look here, mister," said an irate Elderberry. "I don't like your attitude. I just want to ask you a few questions about the drummer that just died, who was under a contract from your damn record company. Do you get my goddamn point?"

Nick started smiling. "Hello, Mrs. Ratzenburger."

"Don't play games with me, Pel-tire."

"Excuse me," said Mrs. Ratzenburger. Gerome turned around in surprise. Elderly ladies were the only people he had a genuine respect for.

"I am so sorry, ma'am. I'm Lieutenant..."

"I don't care who you are, young man. I will not have anyone coming on my property using such vulgar language." She looked at Nick's face. "My, goodness, Nigel. What did this horrible man do to you?" She grabbed Nick's hand and led him inside the house. She turned to Gerome. "And you can leave before I call the police."

Elderberry was too ashamed to admit he was the police.

"I'll be talking to you soon, Pel-tire," he yelled, as he got behind the wheel of his BMW.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: _Mr. Rogers_

Andie stepped off the elevator on the 10th floor. Debbie gave her a wicked smile as she passed the reception desk.

"Can your dress be any shorter, girlfriend?"

"Please, don't start with me," said an exhausted Andie.

"Well, judging from the way you're all flustered, and that dress you're wearing – my, God, where did you get that – I'd say the meeting went pretty well."

"I'll tell you about it later. I'm going to take an early lunch and try to make it home to get some more appropriate clothes."

Suddenly, Harold walked to the desk. "Deborah, I need to – Oh, who have we here?" he said as he noticed Andie.

"Mr. Rogers, I want you to meet Andrea Jenson."

"Deborah, please don't call me Mr. Rogers. It's not exactly the image I want to represent." He extended his hand to Andie. "Hi, Andrea, I'm Harold."

Andie had an abrupt change in attitude. She shook his hand and felt like a giddy schoolgirl. As his glistening eyes stared right through Andie's, she tried her best not to let her knees buckle.

"Nice to meet you."

"I have the strange feeling I've seen you before," he said, with a knowing smile.

Hoping he wasn't talking about the elevator encounter from earlier, she asked, "You think so?"

"I thought you looked nice with your wet dress and hair in a wet pony-tail, but this is quite an improvement."

Andie was speechless. Here was this Adonis complementing her about the way she looked that morning, and even more so on her five-minute, quick-change makeover. She looked to the side with a coy smile.

"Thank you."

"I hope I'm not being too forward, but if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take you to dinner tonight."

She was stunned. Her usual defense took over. "Oh, I don't know. I've got this case to get ready for and..."

"For God's sake, Andie, you have to eat sometime," said Debbie.

"Deborah's right," said the insistent Harold. "I'm on a strict time schedule, also, but food is an essential part of surviving. I'll pick you up around seven. Is that a good time?"

"How about I meet you somewhere around seven-thirty." This would give her more time to get ready for the date with this god, who was making her wetter than the rainstorm from that morning.

"That'll be fine. I'm new in town. Where's a nice place to go?"

"Rollins Tower," said Debbie. She was referring to the four-star, revolving restaurant, which sat on top of a 200-foot tall tower – nestled in the heart of downtown.

"Sounds good to me. How does that sound, Andrea?"

"It would sound a lot better if you would call me Andie, and yes, that definitely sounds good to me," she said through her gleaming smile.

"I'll see you there." He turned to Debbie. "Oh, yes. I need those Verona files when you get a chance."

"No problem, sir," Debbie said, with a smile. "I'll get right on it."

As he walked away, he stopped, turned around, and said, "One more thing, Deborah – thank you." He gave Andie a seductive smile and headed to his office.

Andie and Debbie looked at each other with a glare of amazement and said, in unison, "Oh – my – God."

"I think he likes you," said Debbie.

"I think the feeling's mutual," said Andie.

"What are you going to wear?"

"I don't know. I have a lot of nice dresses, and..."

"No offense, sweetie, but I've seen your nice dresses. They make my grandmother look like a whore. Where did you get the dress you're wearing now?"

"From LuAnn's, downstairs."

"Tell you what – when my relief gets here, we'll take lunch together and pick you out something sexy to wear tonight." Debbie was a horrible secretary but an excellent stylist.

"I don't want to give the wrong impression," said Andie.

"Sweetie, judging from the sweat from your forehead, that impression has already been given out."

Andie was embarrassed. "You are so bad."

"And here's to you being that way, yourself," said Debbie. They both put their hands over their faces and started giggling.

"I'll be in my office. Come get me when you're ready," said Andie, who was still giggling as she walked away.

The phone rang and Debbie picked it up. "Thank you for calling the offices of Wainwright & Grimes. How may I direct your call?"

"Debbie, is that you?" said the confused voice.

"Is that you, Nick?"

"Yeah. What are you doing answering the phone? Where's Ginger?"

"She called in sick. What's wrong? You sound like hell."

"Please don't mention that word to me right now. Hey listen – can you and Tony meet me at Balls & Burgers tonight? I really need some friendly company tonight." He was reluctant to mention Tony, but he knew they were a package deal. Debbie was stunned. She never heard Nick talk like this before.

"Yeah, sure. I'll call Tony when he gets to work this afternoon. He gets off after eleven, though." This was way too late for her to be out on a work night, but Nick sounded pitiful. She always put her friends needs before hers.

"That'll be fine. I'll be there. Oh, and ask Andie to come, too."

Debbie stalled for a second. "I don't think she can make it tonight. She has a huge case to get ready for."

"Well, ask her anyway. I'll see you guys tonight."

"Okay, bye." Debbie was worried. Nick sounded needy for the first time since she had known him. She decided not to tell Andie about the call.

Back at the Eagleton building, Benny was getting ready for lunch when his phone rang.

"Ben Myers here," he said.

"Hello, Ben. This is Jamie O'Malley. How are you today?"

"Just fine, thank you." Benny kept his cool. He wanted to tell her how he really felt, but it wouldn't be nice to tell his future boss he felt like a chihuahua run over by a Sherman tank.

"I'm in New York right now, but I'll be there tomorrow morning. I have a meeting with Mr. Levon first thing, but I'd like to get with you and Nicholas Peltier right after that. It will be about lunch time, so set up a lunch meeting outside the office and I'll meet you both there."

"Yes, ma'am. There's a little bistro a few blocks from here – French food, if that's okay."

"That's fine. Leave me directions on my voice mail, which should be set up by this afternoon. I'll see you and Nickster tomorrow. Good-bye."

The way she said good-bye had such finality to Benny. The Nickster reference, coupled with the correct was she pronounced Nick's last name, made him realize this was the same Jamie who wrecked his best friend's life. He started shaking – he had to get in touch Nick. He called Nick's apartment. The phone rang until the machine picked up. This time, Benny left a message.

"Where in the heck are you, Nick? I just talked to Jamie. She wants to meet with us tomorrow. Get your butt to work or at least give me a call. Please – this is serious. Are you there?"

Nick was listening to the message as Benny was leaving it. He still wouldn't pick up the phone. He walked away, went to the kitchen to get a six-pack from the fridge, picked up his beloved Stratocaster, and started playing the blues.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: _Lights Out_

Nick's guitar was slightly out of tune. He carefully tightened the D string. He knew exactly how far to go. There it was – perfection. The sounds coming from the strings made a soothing sound that made him forget his problems for a few seconds. He stopped and looked at the Jimi Hendrix signature. The guitar was a 1972 American standard Stratocaster. He bought it at a pawnshop in New Orleans in the fall of 1977, two weeks after he moved there. He had brought it to a handwriting expert (at least the woman on the Jackson Square sidewalk said she was) and it was determined that the signature was authentic. This always bothered Nick, considering the fact that Jimi died in 1970. Nick met a couple of street musicians that day and started playing with them. They were amazed how well this 18 year-old kid could play. He was introduced to slew of outstanding musicians and started playing everywhere he could. The minimum drinking age was 18 at that time, so he had no problem supporting his newfound habit. It made him forget about the disaster he just left in Lafayette. Two days after that dreadful graduation experience, Grandma Peltier suffered a massive stroke. She made Nick promise to take his Loyola scholarship and make the most of it. Her last words before she died made in indelible impression in Nick's mind.

"Mais, Tee-Nick. I don't think I'm going to make it too much longer," she said. "I want you to take that college paper and make something of yourself. That college is in New Orleans, you know, and that city is full of evil. You stay away from those devil people and you'll be okay. You lucky to get rid of that devil girl, Jamie. She was no good for you. Stay away from the Devil. He makes you do horrible things. I did a horrible thing, Tee-Nick. I know the Devil was behind it I hope you can forgive me. I love you, Tee-Nick."

She went into a coma right after muttering those words and died four days later. Nick was devastated, but decided to live up to Maw-Maw's request. He had no idea what the horrible thing was she mentioned. Nick moved into a dorm on Loyola's campus. He took a streetcar downtown after getting all his stuff crammed into the tiny room. His fascination with the New Orleans music scene took him by surprise. He never went to a single class. He was dismissed from Loyola and had to move out the dorm. He was making enough money playing music to rent a house not far from the campus. He set up a little recording studio in the living room. He made dozens of somewhat friends. His carefree lifestyle was just the thing he needed to help him get over Jamie and Maw-Maw. Sex, booze, and rock & roll were the only things he thought about. He knew it was the complete opposite of what his Grandmother requested. He figured he would have to pay for it sooner or later – and later had finally arrived.

After playing a few songs, Nick went to his answering machine and played the last message Benny left. He had heard it while it was recording, but wanted to hear the part about Benny talking to Jamie. He hoped there was a chance he missed something. Unfortunately, he heard right the first time.

Meanwhile, Andie and Debbie were shopping for a new outfit.

"What do you think about this one?" asked Debbie, as she held a back-less, mini-dress with spaghetti straps.

"There's no way. I can't wear a bra with that." Debbie smiled.

"That's the point." Andie was embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Debbie. I don't think I can wear something that daring."

"What harm would it do to try it on? Give it a shot."

Andie went into the dressing room. A few minutes later, she came out and even Debbie was impressed.

"Well, what do you think?" Andie asked, with a red face.

"My God, sweetie. You are absolutely gorgeous. You'll have Harold eating you – I'm sorry, I mean eating out of your hand."

"I can't wear this in public. Look at this. It looks like I'm giving directions." The temperature in the dress shop was cold and Andie's nipples rose to the occasion.

"Andie, you'll be giving erections in that outfit."

"You are terrible. Since when do you talk like that?"

"Come on, live a little."

"Okay – I'll take it." She went to the cashier and looked at her watch. "We still have time to grab a bite – my treat."

"You're on," said Debbie. The Kensington Building had plenty of places to eat. They settled for the Sandy's Soup & Salad Shop.

"I'm so nervous about tonight. I haven't been on a date in months."

"Well, it's about time you get out there. You spend so much time with Nick, you never..."

"Oh God, I forgot to call Nick this morning," Andie realized. "He was a total mess when I left last night."

"Don't worry about Nick. I talked to him this morning. He's fine. You go out tonight and don't worry about him," said Debbie.

"But, I do worry. He was acting so strange after talking about that Jamie girl. He looked like he really needed help."

"Andie, I don't mean to pry, and let me know if I'm out of line. Do you have feelings for Nick?"

"Of course I do. He's my best friend, next to you."

"No, that's not what I mean. Do you have feelings for him?"

"Oh – those feelings - of course not. Why do you ask?"

"Well, before I send you to the big dogs, I want to make sure you're ready to leave the puppy."

"Debbie, I love Nick. He's a great friend, but he is definitely not my type."

"I just wanted to make sure."

"I really do need to call him. He'll be excited to know that I actually have a date. He's been giving me a hard time about that lately."

"Don't you think he might be a little jealous?"

"No way. Why would he be?"

"Didn't you see how he reacted when I mentioned getting you and Harold together?"

"Now, you're the one acting weird. He was just freaking out about the whole Carlos thing and that stupid paranoia about Tony."

"What about Tony?"

"Nick thinks Tony is Satan."

"What?" Debbie started laughing. "That is so ridiculous. Nick is insane. Look, don't worry about calling him. Finish out your day at the office, get your sweet little self home, and get ready for an evening with the man of your dreams."

There was no way Andie was going to tell Debbie who the man she had been dreaming about was.

The six-pack of beer and the four cups of coffee had taken its toll on Nick. Along with the woozy feeling, came the full bladder. He staggered into his bathroom and closed the door out of habit. As soon as the relieved feeling started flowing, the lights went out. Nick freaked out.

"Is that you, Satan? I know you're in here, you old son-of-a-bitch. Turn on the lights so I can see you." A few seconds later, the lights came back on. Of course, no one else was in the bathroom but Nick. He looked down and noticed he had urinated all over the bathroom. "Damn you, Satan. See what you made me do?"

The quick power outage had made Benny's computer go haywire. He lost the reports he was checking. He was getting all the facts ready for his meeting with Jamie. He re-booted the computer, and it took another fifteen minutes to get back to the place where he was before. He started thinking that Jamie was going to cause him as much grief as she put Nick through.

"Maybe that was Tony giving us a sign," joked Debbie, as the lights in the restaurant went off for a few seconds.

"You are so bad, Debbie," said Andie, as she laughed so hard, she dribbled her split-pea soup.

"Ooh, he must be inside you. You're doing just like that Exorcist chick."

"Stop it," laughed Andie.

"Be gone, you evil demon. Leave the body of my friend."

"Okay, Debbie. Now you're scaring me."

Debbie stood up. "Do not be afraid. I had Tony inside me last night and it was great."

"Please, sit down, Debbie. You're embarrassing me."

Debbie had trouble hearing her above the applause from the surrounding tables.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. With your help, I have just exorcised the demon from my friend. Maybe tonight, she'll get something else inside of her, if you know what I mean."

"Shut the hell up, Debbie!" yelled Andie.

The restaurant manager approached their table. "Excuse me, ladies. If you can't keep it down, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Debbie sat down. "I'm sorry. I don't know what just came over me."

Andie scolded Debbie, "This is the most embarrassed I have ever been in my entire life. What is wrong with you?"

"I don't know," said Debbie. "Something just grabbed me inside and made me say it." She looked at Andie for a few seconds. "You don't suppose..."

"No. Not you, too. Tony is not the Devil. If anybody should know this, it would be you."

"Yeah, you're right." She leaned in close to Andie and whispered, "But, just between you and me – he was inside me last night and it was awesome."

Andie turned red. "Like I said, you are so bad."

Benny gathered all the information he needed and left work to find Nick. The rented Mercedes he ordered was waiting in the parking lot. He went straight to Nick's apartment. Mrs. Ratzenburger was outside, planting flowers along the driveway.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Ratzenburger. Would you know if Nick is home?"

She looked up and squinted. "Is that you, Billy?"

"Benny. Yes, ma'am. Do you know if Nick is home?"

"I thought you might be that mean man that beat up poor Nicholas."

"What man?"

"This horrible excuse for a human was standing in front of poor Bobby, shouting out all kind of vulgarities"

"Did he say if his name was Gerome Elderberry?"

"As a matter of fact, he did. Do you know him?"

"Yes, unfortunately. You said he beat Nick?"

"Oh, yes. Ricky looked terrible. I gave him an icepack to put over his eyes. He's in his apartment right now."

"Thank you, Mrs. Ratzenburger. I'll go check on him."

She smiled. "It's nice to know Bobby has so many friends looking after him."

Benny climbed the stairs in the back of the house, which lead to an outside balcony. Nick's door was right beside Tony's. He knocked as hard as he could.

"Nick, I know you're in there. Open the door." He waited a few seconds and tried again. "Come on, Nick. Let me in." He checked the doorknob and turned it – it was unlocked. Benny walked in and called for Nick again. He noticed a light shining from underneath the bathroom door. "Are you in there, Nick?" He knocked on the door but got no reply. He wiggled the knob and noticed it also was unlocked. He carefully opened the door to sight of Nick's unconscious body, lying in pool of urine.

"Oh, my God." He bent down to see if Nick was still breathing. "Please, don't be dead."

Nick opened his eyes. He surveyed at the situation.

"What are you doing here?" He sniffed and felt the stickiness of his accident. "Oh, shit. I must have passed out while I was trying to clean up this mess."

Benny was relieved. "What happened here, Nick?"

"Satan started screwing with me while I was trying to take a piss."

"I tell you what, buddy. Get yourself cleaned up and I'll wait for you out there. We need to talk."

"About Jamie, right?"

"Pretty much, yes."

"Well, this won't be the first time I have to clean up bodily fluids while thinking about her. Give me a couple of minutes."

He closed the bathroom door as Benny stepped out. Benny noticed the empty six-pack that wasn't there the night before. Nick must really be having a hard time dealing with this Jamie, he thought. Benny started thinking about Kat. He picked up the nearest beer can, hoping to find at least a swallow of comforting alcohol. Nick had drunk every last drop. He opened up the top drawer of Nick's desk and saw where he left the spare keys for his Lexus. I hope Kat is enjoying my car, he thought. He took the extra key off the ring for his rented Mercedes and left it in the drawer. He liked to keep an extra set of keys someplace other than his home and office. He knew this would be a safe place. No one ever went in Nick's desk – including Nick.

Andie and Debbie finished lunch. Andie went to her office, while Debbie returned to the receptionist desk. The temp never showed up, so she was stuck there the rest of the day. She noticed a message left on the desk for her. It was from Donovan Delaney, the director of the play. She called him back right away.

"Hello, Mr. Delaney. This is Deborah Bailey."

"Debbie, sweetheart. How are you?" said Mr. Delaney.

"I'm terrific. I'm returning your call."

"Oh, yes, my dear. We have to start rehearsal tonight instead of tomorrow. Will that cause a problem?"

"Of course not. I'll be there. What time?"

"We'll start promptly at seven. I'll see you there?"

"Yes, sir. You sure will."

"Wonderful. Thank you, so much, sweetheart."

"You're quite welcome. Bye-bye." Debbie started thinking about how great it will be to work with such a sweet director. Then it hit her – she was supposed to meet Nick that night. She called his apartment to let him know.

Benny answered the phone. "Nick Peltier's residence."

"Benny, is that you?"

"Yeah, hi Debbie."

"How are you?" Debbie was just as concerned for Benny as she was for Nick.

"I've been better, but I'll be okay – I guess."

"I need to speak to Nick. Is he there?"

"Yeah, he's in the bathroom."

"He sure does spend a lot of time in there."

"Trust me, it's legitimate this time."

"Okay. Hey, Benny, be a sweetheart and leave Nick a message."

"Sure."

"Tell him I have rehearsal tonight and won't be able to make it to Balls & Burgers."

"No problem. Break a leg."

"Thanks, Benny. See you later. Call me if you need someone to talk to."

"Thank you, Debbie, I will."

Nick walked out of the bathroom wearing a towel. "Did somebody just call?"

"Yeah, Debbie called. She can't meet you tonight at Balls & Burgers."

"Oh, well. You wanna go?"

"Darn it, Nick. Get it through your thick skull. We have a meeting with Jamie O'Malley tomorrow. You know - the girl who is the sole reason for the way you are right now. We're not going to Balls & Burgers. We're going to sit here and go over this stack of papers. We will be ready for this meeting. Do you understand?"

Nick stared at Benny. "Hey, you want to do tequila shots?"

"No, I don't want to do tequila shots. Now, sit down so we can..."

Strike one, thought Nick. "Jack Daniel's?"

"No, Nick. We have work to do."

Strike two. "Schnapps?" Fastball right down the middle.

"What kind?"

"Peppermint." Home run, Nick thought. He knew Benny had a weakness for the sweet tasting and low alcohol content liqueur

"You're on," said Benny. He knew Nick wouldn't give up. Nick returned with a bottle of peppermint Schnapps. Being the lightweight he was, Benny felt the effects immediately. After two more shots, he started feeling woozy.

"I'm going to lie down a few seconds right here," he told Nick. Ten seconds later, he was out cold.

"And it's out of here," Nick announced like a baseball commentator. He smiled, got dressed, and left. He went straight to Balls & Burgers.

A couple of hours passed. Debbie noticed it was 3:15 and decided to call Tony.

"7-Eleven," said Jamie, the clerk.

"Hi, is Tony there?"

"No, that bastard. He called in, said he couldn't make it. Now I gotta work a damn double shift."

Debbie was shocked. She knew Tony had never missed a shift before. "Would you please tell him Debbie called if he comes in?"

"I'm not a message service. Tell him yourself," said Jamie, as she slammed the phone down.

Debbie called Tony's apartment. He wasn't there. She called next door at Nick's place. The phone startled Benny, who was sleeping on the sofa. He answered it out of habit.

"Ben Myers here," said the groggy sounding voice.

"Benny, I'm sorry. I thought I was calling Nick."

"That's okay, Debbie." He didn't realize where he was.

Debbie checked the number again and dialed. The phone rang and this time Benny realized where he was.

"Nick Peltier's residence."

"Benny?" asked a confused Debbie.

"Weren't you just at your office?"

He looked at his watch and noticed Nick wasn't there. "No, but I'm supposed to be. I've got to go." He hung up the phone and left.

Andie rushed in front of Debbie. "I'm going to the court house to look up a few things, then heading home to get ready." She was excited. "I'll fill you in on the details tomorrow."

Debbie was puzzled. She could always talk with at least one of her close friends at any given moment. She didn't give it much more thought and kept working. Still, she kept wondering where Tony was. All of a sudden, the lights went out again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: _Balls and Burgers_

Gerome Elderberry was snooping around Zipper Down's apartment as the lights went out. The rainstorm had caused sporadic power outages throughout the day. He wanted to comb every square inch of the place to get every clue possible. He had already dropped off the pencil he had retrieved from Kristi's desk to the crime lab, checking for matched fingerprints. The various assortments of drug bottles had been collected as evidence. The place was a wreck. As the lights went back on, Elderberry noticed a lot of Zipper's possessions were still packed in boxes.

"He must have used his entire signing bonus to afford this place," Elderberry muttered to himself. "It isn't the type of place a low-life musician could normally afford. He took out his miniature tape recorder and started dictating. "Note to self on the Zipper Down investigation - Sergeant Wilcox and his crew did a particularly shoddy job of investigating this crime scene. There are storage boxes left untouched and drug paraphernalia left behind." He said this as he reached into a spare change jar with a handkerchief and pulled out a hash pipe. "The residue smells like it was used recently. Check the blood report to see if any trace of cheap Mexican marijuana is found." He opened one of the storage boxes. It contained vinyl albums. "Let's see what kind of taste our corpse had." Elderberry was stunned at the collection. The first album he pulled out was the South Pacific soundtrack. The next one was The Best of Judy Garland. "It seems our subject wasn't as putrid a human as originally thought," he said, as he pulled out the next album, Barbara Streisand's Funny Girl. He opened another box. This one contained videotapes. Mommy Dearest was on top of the pile, followed by The Wizard of Oz, and 101 Dalmatians.

"I'm starting to see a trend here." He perused the closet and studied the clothes. It was the typical grunge musician attire. He did notice something about the clothing – most came from Lord & Taylor and Niemen Marcus. "The holes in the jeans look as if they were made with a sharp object, then washed to get that frilly look." Next to the flannel shirts was an assortment of silk dress shirts. He dug through Zipper's underwear and made a discovery – it was full of silk boxers. "A drawer full of silk boxers from Victoria's Secret men's collection." Underneath the boxers was a collection of pictures.

"Here's a picture of Zipper Down, wearing grunge attire, with four slutty females hanging all over him." He found some different ones. "Here's one of Zipper hugging a very, sexy hunk of a male." He turned off his recorder. "It seems that Zipper Down was leading a double life," he said to himself. "He was doing this grunge thing to keep face with his band, but in real life, he was a smart dressed, sophisticated individual. There is no way a gentleman like that killed himself. It was murder. I'm sure of it."

He saw another picture of Zipper giving Nick a "high-five" on the Northshore Beach of New Lake. He stared at it while strolling around the apartment. He walked over a pizza box. He noticed it came from Presto Pizza. The location stamp on the side of the box showed it came from the Village location. "I wonder why he ordered from that location when it's across town?" He looked up Presto Pizza in the phone book and found a location two blocks from the apartment. He called that location.

"Hello, I'm Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry, with Metro Homicide..."

"There's no truth to that rumor about worms being in our pizzas," said the female voice on the line.

"I don't care. I just want to know if you have a Zipper Down on your delivery list."

"The drummer?" said the excited voice. "No, way. If he were on our delivery list, I'd know about it. Didn't he just die or something?"

"Thank you," said Elderberry, as he hung up the phone. He looked at the stamp and noticed an order number on it. He called the Village location.

"Hello, this is Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry, with Metro Homicide..."

"Hey, listen here, man. There's no truth about that rumor of worms being in our pizzas," said the defensive employee.

"Please shut the goddamn hell up and listen. Do you have a Zipper Down on your delivery list?"

"The dead guy? Nope. He lived across town, didn't he?"

"I want you to check an order number for me." He gave the man the number and waited a few seconds.

"That order was for Nick Pellit – er, or something like that."

"When and where was it delivered?"

"It shows last Saturday, and it was delivered to 1103 Maplewood, apartment A, around two in the afternoon."

Elderberry smiled. "Thank you." He hung up the phone. "That's Pel-tire's address. It seems I need to pay him another visit."

Nick was sitting at the bar in Balls & Burgers. It was time for the five-o'clock happy hour crowd to start coming in. Nick recognized most of the partygoers. He started buying rounds for everybody at the bar, and soon was feeling no pain.

Marlena, the bartender, said to Nick, "You sure are having a good time. What are you celebrating?"

"Nothing particular. I'm just having a little fun."

"How did you get those black eyes?"

"My mouth was saying things it shouldn't have said."

"Like that time you told me about Jamie?"

Nick's mood changed. "When did I tell you about her?"

"You don't remember that night when you were coming on to me and my boyfriend showed up?" She put another beer in front of Nick.

"No – I really don't." He started wondering how many people he told the story to.

"It was that night you were telling Jim and me about the love of your life you lost in high school. You stopped when Debbie showed up at the bar."

"Who's Jim?"

"He was my boyfriend."

"How much did I tell you?"

"Not enough. It was getting pretty interesting," said Marlena. She was standing in front of Nick, wearing a tight, red, tee shirt, tied up in a knot at the front. She had a hard, flat stomach – the kind that drove Nick wild. Her black leather mini-skirt was a definite tip intensifier.

"Where's your boyfriend now?"

"Can't you read between the lines? I said earlier, he was my boyfriend. We broke up two weeks ago," she said with a smile. "You know, you seemed pretty broken up about that girl. Has there been anybody else since her?"

"More than you can imagine," he said, speaking strictly of the numerous one-nighters he thought he could remember.

"Ooh, my kind of man. Love 'em and leave 'em, no strings attached, right?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"You know, Jim was really tying me down. I wanted to have fun, and I – let me just say, I've always found you attractive." She looked around to see if anyone was listening.

"What's your point?" asked Nick.

"I get off at ten tonight."

"So?"

"And – I would like to – you know."

"No, what are you getting at?"

"Do you find me attractive?" She leaned in and spoke softly into Nick's ear.

Nick eyed her up and down. "Of course."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

Marlena was getting frustrated. She took a step back. "Nick, I kind of would like to have some fun with you. Do you know what I mean?" She gave him a sexy wink.

"You know what, Marla..."

"Marlena."

"Yeah, right. You are an extremely sexy woman, and I would be completely out of my mind to turn down an offer like that, but I am."

"You are what – out of your mind or turning down my offer?"

"Both."

"Do you mind if I ask why?" She was somewhat surprised.

"You know me too well."

"Nick, I don't know you at all. I just know you from seeing you in here every once in a while."

"But I opened my heart and you were there to hear about it. There's no way I can have sex with you now."

"Okay, but you don't know what you're missing," she said, as she made a kissing gesture with her seductive lips. Nick stared at her flawless body as she walked away to take another drink order.

"Oh, yes I do," he said to himself, shaking his head.

Debbie stopped in the lobby of the Community Theatre to make a call. Tony still wasn't home. She got a surprise hug from behind.

"Debbie, sweetheart, the rehearsal's in the theatre, not the lobby," said Donovan.

"You scared the heck out of me," said Debbie.

"Sorry, sweetie, but we're running a little late. Here's your script. We're going to have a quick reading and try to get a feel for this thing."

Debbie took the stage and Donovan asked her to read from the top of page ninety-five.

"That's a long monologue, and it's kind of near the end," she said.

"Exactly. I want you to show everybody how these characters are supposed to feel. Do exactly as you did for the audition."

"Okay." She put Tony out of her mind and concentrated. It took just a few seconds to get into character.

"Listen here, sweetheart," she said to her cast mate, standing right in front of him, while she put her finger in his face. "I have stood up for you - as humiliating as it was - and watched you make a complete jackass of yourself. But every single time you embarrassed me, you drove a stake further into the heart of this God-forsaken marriage. I am not going to stand here and take it anymore. Go on and keep having your little sordid affairs. I'm not playing that damn stand-by-your-man game any longer. You have shamed our daughter and myself way too many times. And another thing – you have shamed our country. I don't care that you're the President of the United States of America. I want out of this marriage – now." The entire cast erupted in applause.

"Bravo," said Donovan. "That is exactly the kind of emotion I want displayed here. Did everybody take note from Debbie." The applause started again. Debbie couldn't have been happier.

Andie was home, getting ready for her date. She put on her new dress after a hot bubble bath and was amazed how spectacular she looked. She never thought of herself as the type of woman who could get away with wearing a dress like this. She stared at herself in the mirror longer than she ever had in her life. She was ready to rock Harold's world.

Benny went home right after work. He knew exactly where Nick was, but was going to get ready for the meeting first. He was planning to kidnap Nick, bring him home, and make sure he didn't leave.

"We will be ready for this meeting," he said to himself.

Andie walked into the lobby of Rollins Tower. Harold, holding a long-stemmed rose, met her right away.

"My, God, Andie. You look absolutely gorgeous." He was stunned.

"Thank you," said Andie. She looked at the magnificent hunk of a man in front of her. "May I say you look pretty awesome, yourself?"

"Yes, you may."

They both laughed as they went to the elevator. Their table was ready for them. They had a panoramic view of the city and lake. The meal was scrumptious, the desert divine, and the wine beyond words. Andie hung on Harold's every word. She was hooked. He walked her back to her car afterwards.

"I hope you had a good time this evening," said Harold.

"I most certainly did," said Andie.

"Well, it's late and we both have a lot of work to do, so I better be going." He leaned over and gave Andie a sweet little kiss on her cheek. "How about lunch tomorrow?"

"Definitely," said a swooning Andie. Harold took a few steps away, and then turned around.

"Oh, Andie, I almost forgot. I promised to take Debbie out for lunch tomorrow."

"That's fine." She was a little disappointed.

"Why don't you join us?"

"Are you sure I won't be in the way?"

"Of course not, and I promise to make it up to you another night."

"Okay."

"How about tomorrow night?"

"Absolutely." Andie got in her car and drove home. She was way above cloud nine.

Debbie finished rehearsal. Donovan made a comment to her how he was so lucky to have her starring in his play. She couldn't wait to tell Tony. She got home and gave him a call. He still wasn't home. It was after ten-thirty and she was exhausted.

"I'll just talk to him tomorrow," she said to herself as she collapsed in her bed.

Nick was sitting on a stool next to a pool table, waiting for his turn to play. A beautiful Asian lady, with long, silky, jet-black hair, came up to him.

"Hi, Nick," she said.

He looked at her. "Hi – uh..."

"Suzi," she said. "Don't you remember me?"

"Yeah, of course I do. I could never forget – okay, this is bullshit. I really don't. I'm sorry."

"That's alright. You were really out of it the night we met."

"Did I happen to mention a certain girl by the name of..."

"Jamie? Oh, yes. That's all you talked about. Hey, are you here by yourself?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, I was thinking – if you're not doing anything later – maybe you could come over with me to my apartment and..."

"Have sex?" Nick blurted out.

"Whoa, you don't have to be so blunt about it."

"Well, isn't that what you want from me?"

She smiled and put her smooth hands on his face. She pulled his lips to hers, and gave him a long, sensuous kiss.

"What do you think? We can do what we didn't get to do last time," she whispered.

Benny grabbed Nick by the arm. "Come on, Nick. I'm bringing your ass home."

"Thank, God, Benny. You just saved me."

Benny looked at Suzi and tried to keep from drooling. "You call taking you away from that saving you?"

Suzi was confused. "Are you guys gay are something."

Nick freaked out. "What? No way, I am not gay." He ran back to Suzi and tried to ram his tongue down her throat.

"Get away from me you pervert," she said, as she slapped him across the face.

"Well, at least it's a perfect compliment to your black eyes," said Benny.

"Get me out of here," said Nick. He grabbed somebody's shot of tequila from the bar, as Benny was dragging him out. "We can't waste alcohol. There are sober children in India."

Benny loaded Nick into his rented Mercedes and started driving. "I'm taking you to my house. You're going to get a good night's sleep and will be ready for the meeting tomorrow."

The combination of the moving car and sitting in one place allowed the enormous amount of alcohol to take full effect on Nick.

"Promise me one thing, Benny," said Nick.

"Sure, what's that?"

"Promise me you'll cremate my body and have my ashes sprinkled all over Bourbon Street."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I'll blend in with the crud and nobody will ever stop me to have sex with them or Jamie."

"You're not making sense."

"Or better yet, cremate me and tell Jamie to kiss my ash."

"Are you alright, Nick?"

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I haven't seen Jamie since I saw her naked bust – or bustesess – however you say the word, ya know what I'm sayin'?"

"You are really wasted."

"Ray's dead? No way. I just saw the poor bastard last spring fall, the past summer winter."

"Goodnight, Nick," said the frustrated Benny.

"Goodnight, John-Boy," said Nick, right before he passed out.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: _Nick and the Smart Hookers_

Nick opened his eyes, confused about his strange surroundings. The sheets were clean, and the dawn light was shining through the open curtains. He definitely wasn't in his place, but where was he? He heard a knock on the door then saw it open. Benny walked in, carrying a cup of coffee.

"Oh, my God. I've died and gone to hell," screamed Nick.

"Cool it, Nick," said Benny. He was already dressed in his Armani suit. "I let you sleep a little late, so you can be fresh for Jamie."

"I tried to get fresh with her seventeen years ago, and look where it got me." He realized where he was and wasn't happy about it.

"Here's some coffee. Slam it down and get your butt in the shower. We're going to prepare you for the meeting."

"And just how are you going to prepare me?"

"I've got some figures she'll probably throw at you. I want you to be prepared."

"Hey, man, you promised me when I was hired, I wouldn't be bothered with bullshit like numbers and figures."

"Sorry, Nick, but this is the real world. Some other company is buying us out, and Jamie is going to be sorting out all our affairs. She'll probably be figuring out who the new company will keep or let go."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean she is going to be digging in all..."

"No – what's this about a buyout?"

"I tried to tell you yesterday, but..."

"And just how long have you known about it?"

"I just found out for myself yesterday."

Nick gulped down his entire cup of coffee. "Hit me again, coffee man." Nick gave Benny his cup. "Where's your bathroom? I need a shower."

Benny directed him to the guest bathroom. He was relieved Nick was taking this so well. He didn't realize Nick just wanted to be awake enough to plan his escape.

Debbie was getting ready for work. She picked up the phone and called Tony for the fourth time that morning. He still wasn't home. She called Andie, who was about to run out the door.

"Hello?" said Andie.

"Hey, it's me. Why are you all out of breath?"

"I'm running late. I've got so much to talk to you about. I'll see you at work. Bye."

Debbie called Nick's apartment, with the hope Tony might be over there. She got Nick's sarcastic message and didn't bother to leave one of her own. She finished getting ready and left for work.

Nick stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and met Benny.

"What am I going to wear?" asked Nick.

"I got your best set of clothes I could find from your place." Benny pointed to a set of clothes, neatly arranged over the bed.

"When were you there?"

"You don't remember? I was there yesterday when you got me drunk and left." Nick was staring at his clothes spread out over another man's bed. He was wearing a towel while hearing how he got another man drunk.

"This is getting a little too weird," said Nick.

"I'll be in the living room, setting up the paperwork. I'll meet you there."

Benny left and Nick started putting on his clothes. They weren't what he would have picked out for himself, but he figured it was a business meeting and could handle it for an hour or two. He walked to the window and saw a large, pointy bush right outside. There was no way to climb out and get away. He had gained a few pounds since the last time he had worn the dress pants Benny picked out. His metabolism was finally slowing down. He squeezed into them and met Benny in the living room.

"Okay, I'm stuck here. We might as well get started."

"Alright, Nick. Sit down. Let me show you what you've done over the last year." He grabbed his report. "You've signed one band, produced one band, engineered one album, wrote two songs, and went way over budget on your expense report."

"I told you The Cramping Violets were an expensive band. It took a lot to convince them to sign on with us," explained Nick.

"They're from here. You didn't have to leave the city. You told me how much money you saved the company by signing a local band, but according to this expense report, you went way overboard."

"Man, like I said, it took a lot of convincing."

"What's this expense for from the New Lake City Library for five-thousand dollars?"

"Hookers."

"What?"

"Really smart hookers."

"How am I going to convince Jamie that five-thousand dollars is a legitimate expense because it was spent on smart hookers?"

"Would you have rather I spent the money on dumb hookers?"

Benny was furious. "No, Nick. I would rather you not have spent any money for any hookers."

"Well, they're not free, you know."

Benny went down the list. "And what's this? Thirty-thousand dollars for a one-night limo rental?"

"Well, you see, they kind of took the limo out in the country and set it on fire."

"They did what?"

"You know, gasoline, matches, flames – fire."

"How in the heck did the limo driver let them get away with that?"

"They tied him to a tree then got him drunk."

Benny couldn't believe what he was hearing. "How come he never reported it?"

"Do you see an expense from The Electronic Warehouse for about two-thousand dollars?" asked Nick.

Benny looked at the report. "As a matter of fact, that was my next question."

"Well, they bought the driver a big-screen TV to forget about the whole incident – then they paid to replace the limo."

"Thirty-thousand dollars?" asked a livid Benny.

"Hey, we're lucky it was an older model. It could have been a lot worse."

"How can it be worse? Look, Nick, I'm sorry. It's my entire fault for trusting you and giving your carte blanche with the expenses. I was so happy when you finally found a band, I didn't worry about looking at your expense report until now."

"I didn't file it until this past Friday. Don't beat yourself up about it."

"But the library expense was six months ago. How come you didn't file it then?"

"I wanted to make sure nobody in the band caught anything before I submitted it."

"Well, one of them is dead now. I don't think you have to worry about him catching anything."

"See, I also saved the company some money right there."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you see an expense for twelve-thousand dollars to Deville Creek Luxury Apartments?"

"Yeah, I see it right here. What's it for?"

"Zipper Down was the only holdout about signing, so I bought him a twelve-month lease."

"You signed a lease using our money?"

"Yeah."

"How did you just save us money?"

"There was a death clause in the lease. If the tenant died, the remainder of the lease would be taken care of."

Benny shook his head. "So, let's see. You saved us about five-thousand dollars, right?"

"I don't know the math, but that sounds about right."

"Why did you spend all that darn money in the first place?"

"Wait a second, buddy-boy. I did all the engineering on that album, all the mixing, and all the producing. You didn't have to spend one cent for any outside help. And since I'm on this salary thing, the album basically cost Apocalypse nothing extra to produce. So you see - if you take the cost that it takes to produce an album normally, including miscellaneous expenses, I still say we came out way ahead with this Cramping Violets album."

Benny thought about it for a while. "You know what, Nick? That makes sense. I think if I can finagle the report a little, I can make it legit. But answer me this – how did you get away with spending all this money before any of us found out about it?"

"You see an expense for the Matador Ballroom?"

"Let me see, oh yeah, twenty-five hundred dollars. What's it for?"

"Two years worth of ballroom dance lessons for Ted."

"Ted Boone, our accountant?"

"Yeah."

"Nick, you are the most unmanageable, irresponsible, yet ingenious employee, I have ever come across in all my years of management."

"Thanks – I think."

"I wonder how this ever got past Mr. Levon?"

"Do you see an expense from..."

"Never mind," said Benny. "I don't want to know. Okay, we have to meet Jamie in a couple of hours. I let her know we'd meet her at La Petite Maison, at eleven-thirty."

Nick recalled the previous day, when he got that eerie feeling while walking in front of the little bistro. Now he knew why.

Debbie was now at her own desk. She shared an office with two other secretaries. Andie ran in, out of breath, but wearing a big smile.

"You didn't?" asked Debbie.

"Of course not," said Andie, "but we had an awesome time. We're going out again tonight."

"That's wonderful."

"And he invited me to have lunch with you two today."

"That's perfect. Maybe Tony won't be so jealous that way."

"Tony's jealous?"

"A little, I think. I haven't talked to him since yesterday morning."

"Really? That's strange."

"Nothing to worry about. I'm sure I'll talk to him a little later today."

Harold walked in the room. "Hello, ladies. Debbie, I took the liberty of inviting Andie to lunch with us today. I hope you don't mind." He looked at Andie and smiled.

"Of course not," said an enthused Debbie.

"We need to do some research at the Clerk of Courts office, so we can eat downtown," said Harold.

"I know of a great little bistro a few blocks from there," said Debbie. "La Petite Maison."

"Sounds great to me. How about you, Andie?"

"So fine," she said, as she ogled at the sight of Harold. "I mean – yes. That's fine."

"Great. Let's get an early start. Do you need to clear it with anyone, Andie?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I need to go to the Clerk of Court to check on a few things myself."

"Great," said Harold. "We can all go in my car." The three of them hopped in Harold's BMW convertible and headed downtown.

Benny showed Nick some of the other reports Jamie could possibly throw their way. They were about as prepared as they could be. Nick started sweating.

"I can't believe this is happening. I thought I would never have to lay eyes on that woman again. Now, I might be working for her."

"I don't think we'll be working for her," said Benny. "She's probably just doing the field work for the company that's buying us out."

"What company is it? You never told me."

"That's because I don't even know. Mr. Levon didn't give me any details. All I know is that it's a pretty serious situation. I've never seen him so broken up about anything before."

"He must have already talked to her. She has that effect on people."

"I know what you mean. I was intimidated when I talked to her."

"How did she sound?"

"Well, she was businesslike, and..."

"No, I mean, did she sound fat?"

"How would I know if she sounded fat?"

"Well, did she sound like her hair had fallen out and she lost half her teeth?"

"Nick, I can't tell what a person looks like over the phone."

"Maybe she had a dozen kids, and her body looks like Jell-O," said a hopeful Nick. "That would make it easier. But then again – that would mean someone else had her."

"We'll worry about what she looks like when we see her. Let's go. I don't want to be late." They hopped inside Benny's rented Mercedes and headed downtown. They arrived at La Petite Maison. They parked on the side of the building and walked to the front.

"It's such a pretty morning," said Benny. "Why don't we sit outside? Maybe it will keep Jamie in a good mood."

"Hey, whatever works," said Nick. There were two tables under the awning in front of the bistro. They sat at one of them and waited.

"I hope this table is okay," said Benny, as he stared at the table next to them.

"You think Jesus worried about his table at the Last Supper?"

"Come on, Nick. It won't be that bad."

"Yeah, right. You know, I bet in her past life, Jamie was the waitress at the Last Supper. She probably went up to Jesus and said, I'm sorry, Mr. Jesus. We're out of wine, but here's some water. You know what to do."

"Nick, don't go crazy on me. There's still the possibility that it's not the same Jamie O'Malley you know."

"How did she pronounce my last name?"

Benny pronounced it correctly, "Pel-tee-ay." This was the unique way the name was pronounced by the people from the Acadiana region of Louisiana. He didn't have the heart to tell Nick how she mentioned the name Nickster.

"That's all the proof I need. How many people pronounce my name right around here?" Nick was used to this. Outside Louisiana, he never had anyone say his name correctly. Gerome Elderberry was the latest person to butcher his last name.

"Okay, Nick. You're right. There's a ninety-nine percent chance that it's the same Jamie, but come on. We've got to make a good, professional appearance to Ms. O'Malley."

"Ms. O'Malley – I can't believe she never got married. Or maybe she got married and kept her maiden name. Or maybe she got divorced and went back to her maiden name. Or maybe she's a widow and..."

"Nick, shut up. You sound like I did Sunday."

"That bad? I must really be screwed up."

"Thanks a lot, buddy. Now, please, just stay calm."

"That's real easy for you, Mr. I-don't-have-a-car-anymore-because-I-gave-it-away-to..."

"Hey, screw you," said Benny. Even that phrase was uncharacteristic of Benny.

"You wouldn't like it. I would just lay there and sweat," said Nick. "I'm also impressed. You used the word screw in an insulting way."

Benny stared at Nick. "You are so twisted. You need help. By the way – what ever happened to that intern I sent to you?"

"That Lewinsky chick? She was horrible. All she kept talking about was making it big in Washington. I told her she'd be better off there, gave her one of your cigars and told her to hit the road."

"You gave her one of my Cubans?"

"We're not allowed to give interns money. That's the only thing of value I could find. I'm sure she'll put it to good use."

"That's a shame. I really liked her. I hope she doesn't blow her chances in Washington." His cellular phone suddenly rang. "Let me get this. Hello? – Yeah – What? - Are you kidding me? – How many? -Oh, my God. – Are you sure? – Yeah, okay – I'll let you know."

"Who was that?" asked Nick.

"That was Neal. He just told me Jamie went straight to Mr. Levon's office and fired the big man."

"No, way," said Nick. "How can someone fire the owner?"

"Apparently, the big guy is no longer the owner as of this morning. She fired six more people right after that – one of them was Kat."

"We're screwed."

"Neal said she was on her way to meet us right now. I wonder what Kat is going to do?"

"Who gives a shit about Kat, man? The question is – what are we going to do?" Nick looked around. "I need a drink. Waiter."

"Nick, it's only eleven in the morning."

"I don't care. I need a drink. Waiter."

Benny was worried. "Nick, don't start freaking out on me. It won't make a good impression on Jamie if she sees you drinking alcohol at a business lunch."

"Screw Jamie. I don't care. I – need – a – drink. Waiter." The front door opened, and out popped a familiar face.

"I know you dudes," said Pizza Guy.

"Oh, no," said Nick.

"Don't tell me you're our waiter," said Benny.

"Okay, dude. I won't tell you, but, like, I am."

"I thought you just delivered pizza," said Nick.

Pizza Guy smiled. "No way, dude. Like, this gig pays the rent, pizza gig pays the bills, and my band is going to make me rich."

Nick asked, "You're in a band?"

"Yeah, dude. I'm like the drummer in this little alternative band we got started up. But, you know, we like practice ten hours a day and were sounding like the total shit."

"You say you sound like shit?" asked Benny.

Nick had to explain to Benny. "It's an expression meaning real good."

"Oh, I see," said Benny. "When do you sleep?"

"No time for sleep, dude. This is the city and, like, don't let it catch you sleeping or you'll be like, not here."

"Well, while you're here getting high on life, can you get me a double bourbon?" asked Nick.

"Ixnay on the alcohol, dude. We don't serve that here."

Nick was disappointed. "Bummers. Okay, how about bringing me a triple chocolate espresso, extra sugar, with a double shot of chocolate syrup. Make that two. What do you want, Benny?"

"That's really going to calm you down." Benny turned to Pizza Guy. "Water will be fine."

"Dude, like you'll be buzzing 'till the middle of next week. Okay, two triple chocolate espressos, extra sugar, double shot of chocolate syrup in each, and water. Coming right up." He started to leave, but turned around, "Oh yeah, dude. Like, I just saw that chick that was outside your apartment the other day. She passed right in front here in a really nice car about five minutes ago. She looked really pissed-off. But, dude, she still looked babe – o – licious." He turned away.

"What girl was he talking about?" asked Benny.

Nick shook his head. "This could possibly be the worst day of my life." He looked over Benny's shoulder and saw Andie, Debbie, and Harold walk around the corner toward the next table. "Correction – this is the worst day of my life."

Andie noticed them first. "Nick, Benny, what are you two doing here?"

"Waiting for Satan," said Nick.

Benny turned around and saw them. "Oh, hi. We're having our business meeting with Jamie O'Malley here" He looked at Harold. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Andie. "Benny, this is Harold Rogers, Debbie's new boss. Harold, this is Benny Myers and Nicholas Peltier, two dear friends of mine."

Harold shook Benny's hand. "Nice to meet you."

He then shook Nick's hand. "Pel – tee – ay. That's Acadian French, isn't it?"

"Rogers. That's Nazi German, isn't it?" asked Nick.

"Actually, it's English. Nice to meet you, too."

"Don't let us disturb you," said Andie. "We're having a little business lunch, ourselves."

Debbie looked at Nick. "Small world, isn't it?" She was trying to get a rise out of Nick.

"Not quite small enough," said Nick. They all sat down and Benny saw a redheaded lady walking up towards them from behind Nick. "Don't look now, Nick, but I think she's here."

Nick took a deep breath and turned around - it was Jamie.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: _Like a Fine Wine_

The vision of Jamie was one Nick wasn't ready for. Except for her hair length, Jamie hadn't changed one bit. Actually, she was more beautiful than Nick remembered. Her red hair flowed just past her shoulders, framing the perfect face that had been tormenting Nick for seventeen years. It was straight instead of having the waves he remembered so well. It was also a little less red. The fat body Nick had hoped for was well toned. She was wearing a short dress and a light cotton jacket. Her blouse had the top two buttons undone, revealing the start of the ample cleavage Nick recalled vividly. Benny stood up to greet her as Nick turned his head in grief.

"Ms. O'Malley?" asked Benny, as he extended his hand.

"Yes, and you must be Ben," said Jamie, shaking Benny's hand with a firm grip.

"Yes, ma'am, and this is Nicholas Peltier." Jamie turned to Nick and gave him a warm smile.

"Nick and I already know each other from some time back. Nice to see you again, Nick." She held out her hand for Nick, but he was too scared to touch her.

Andie, whose back was to the table, turned around to get a glance at Jamie. She turned back around to stare at Harold.

Debbie, who was facing Nick's table, was trying to see Andie's reaction. Andie didn't look fazed. Debbie looked across the street to the 7-Eleven where Tony worked. She wondered where he was.

Harold, sitting between Andie and Debbie, was facing the street. He noticed the homeless man staring at him. The man was on the side of the 7-Eleven, drinking out of a bottle, wrapped in a brown paper bag. Harold recognized him and knew why he was being watched.

Jamie sat between Benny and Nick. She quickly glanced across the street and saw Gerome Elderberry, who was sitting in his BMW, parked in the 7-Eleven parking lot. She knew why he was there.

Benny was staring at Jamie. He could see why Nick was tormented all those years. She was undeniably gorgeous.

Nick was looking at a bird in the tree above him. He was wishing he could be that bird and just fly away.

"How was your trip, Ms. O'Malley?" asked Benny.

"It was horrible, thank you very much, and please, call me Jamie."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Jamie. Is this your first time in New Lake City?"

"Yes, it is."

"How do you it like so far?"

"Well, first let me say it rates a distant second to any city I have ever worked out of before. Your poor excuse for an airport couldn't accommodate a flea circus, much less a world-class business. I saw your so-called lake on the way to your offices this morning; I wasn't impressed. Your office building has the aesthetics of a run-down cigar shop - however, it does fit the personalities of those working there. There's no imagination or spirit there. No wonder it's a failing record company."

She paused to call for a waiter then turned back to Nick and Benny.

"Anyway, I want to thank you both for meeting me here today. I had to let go of six people this morning. I'm hoping this lunch away from that appalling office building will delay my intentions to fire two more."

Nick had enough. "Chill out, Jamie."

She glared at Nick. "First of all, Nickster, I am perfectly - chilled."

"More like frigid." added Nick. "And don't call me Nickster."

"Nick," said an intimidated Benny.

"That's quite alright, Ben," said Jamie. "Nicholas and I go way back and we'll have plenty of time to reminisce later – however, this is a business lunch and I plan to discuss business."

She turned her head again. "Oh, waiter."

Andie was talking to Harold but couldn't help to overhear Jamie. She looked at Debbie and mouthed, "What a bitch."

Pizza Guy came running to the table. "What can I get you ma'am?"

"Perrier, with a twist, for now, and whatever beverages these gentlemen will be having."

"We've already ordered," said Benny.

"Perrier, with a twist, coming right up." said Pizza Guy, as he strolled away.

"Okay, let's get down to business," said Jamie. "First of all, Nicholas – I apologize for calling you Nickster. That wasn't very appropriate. I guess old habits die hard."

"Much like broken hearts," said Nick.

"Secondly," added Jamie, ignoring Nick's remark, "Ben, we have a serious situation with this band, The Cramping Violets."

"Yes, I know. I've been on the phone the last two days trying to get more details about his death, and..."

"I don't care about the details on his death. What I care about is the publicity we are going to get from this incident. We're on a gold mine here. Why aren't you taking full advantage of it?"

"With all due respect, Jamie, I think we should wait to show a little respect for the man. I mean he was a human being," said Benny.

"You've just proved the point I'm about to make. You don't have the killer instincts to be in your position. My job is to make sure the people we have on the payroll can do what it takes to get the job done – or else replace them with someone who can," Jamie replied.

Benny meekly asked, "Are you trying to say I'm fired?"

"Fortunately for you – no. I've been studying your history with the company and I'm very impressed. Mr. Levon showed good taste when he brought you on. I know you two were close and I respect that. Well, he's not in charge of this company any longer and you're going to have to prove yourself to me. If you don't jump on this Zipper Down opportunity, let's just say my opinion of you will change drastically."

Benny stood up. "Yes, ma'am. I'll get on it right now."

"Wait. Sit back down. You can start right after the meeting. Nicholas – let's just say you're a different story."

Benny sat down and Andie turned her head a little to hear the conversation.

"Here comes the nail in the coffin," said Nick.

"What are you talking about?" asked Jamie.

"Oh, nothing. It's just a stupid phobia about death I have."

Jamie assured Nick, "Nobody's about to die here, Nicholas – at least not yet."

"Yet. I hate that word. It reminds me of my grandmother saying, Mais, Nick, did you go to the dentist like I done told you, yet?" Nick said, in his best Cajun accent.

"Nick," said a cautious Benny.

"You know, I didn't go to the dentist like she told me and every time I turned on TV, I would see that stupid commercial – four out of five dentists recommend." he said, talking like a commercial pitchman.

Benny jumped in again. "Nick."

"Well, you know what? I felt sorry for that fifth dentist and I went to him. You know what that bastard did?"

Andie, in what was a reflex action, said, "Nick settle down."

She turned her head and concentrated on her table. Harold looked at her with a confused look. "The fifth dentist story always catches my attention. Sorry about that. Now you were saying?" she asked, as she gave him her undivided attention.

Nick caught himself. "I'm sorry."

"Do you know that woman sitting at that table?" asked Jamie.

"It doesn't matter. Where were we? Oh, yeah, you were about to sentence me to my death."

"My, God, Nickster," said Jamie.

"Stop it with the damn Nickster," Nick interrupted.

"The years haven't been too good to you. Nobody is trying to kill you," said Jamie.

"What about Carlos Verona?" asked Nick.

With that remark, Harold glimpsed at Nick.

"Why would Carlos be trying to kill you?" asked Jamie.

"You say his name like you know him," said Nick.

"Everybody knows Carlos Verona – or at least knows who he is," remarked Jamie.

"Please, Nick. We're at a meeting," said Benny.

"It's Satan, too. He's probably in this with you and Carlos. His number one assistant works right across the street, you know," said Nick. "Unless you're really Satan – then you would already know that info."

"Please excuse Nick, Jamie," said Benny. "He's not quite himself today."

"Well, I don't know who he is today, but he better pull himself together pretty quick. Apocalypse Records has neither the time nor money to put up with people who can't perform their duties," Jamie said. She pulled out a few papers from her briefcase. "Let me start out with a few discrepancies here. What's this charge of thirty-thousand dollars to Larry's Limos for?"

Nick said, "Well, the band kind of set fire..."

"To the great idea Nick had," said Benny. "One of the members of The Cramping Violets worked for the limousine service. We showed his signing bonus as limo rentals to help out the taxes. We saved the company a bundle."

"That's a little sleazy, but I guess if it works, okay. What about five-thousand to the New Lake City Public Library?" she asked.

"Hookers," said Nick.

"What?" asked Jamie.

"The Hookerston Foundation," said Benny. "It's a cancer research project based out of the library. We made a donation on behalf of Apocalypse Records. You know, good publicity and a tax write-off."

"Come on, Benny," said Nick. "Why don't you just tell her it was for prost..."

"Prostate cancer research," Benny added. "Nick is so modest. He doesn't want to take the credit. Do you, Nick?"

"I'm giving you credit for making an ass..."

"Asset out of the great work you've been doing for us," said Benny.

"Give it up, Benny. You can't hide anything from the great evil one here."

"She's not evil, Nick," said Benny. "Please let me apologize for Nick - again."

"I got your apology right here," said Nick.

Pizza Guy showed up at the table. "Here's your Perrier with a twist, here's your water, and here's your triple chocolate espressos, extra sugar in each, with a double shot of chocolate syrup in each."

"That's the last thing he needs," said Jamie.

"Oh, so what you're saying is this is my last drink, right?"

Benny jumped in, "Nick."

Pizza Guy addressed Andie's table, "I'll be right with you guys." He turned back to Jamie. "Can I take your food order?" He glanced at the street. "Hey, look. Over by that traffic light – that's the chick I was talking about with the totally bitchin' car."

He pointed it out. Everybody stared at the car as it passed in front of the bistro. They looked as if they were watching a slow-motion tennis match.

"That's my car," screamed Benny.

Andie recognized Kat. "Oh, no, Debbie. That's Kat."

"Who's that with her?" asked Debbie.

"That's Tony with her," shouted Benny.

Nick put his head on the table as Jamie and Harold gave each other a confused look.

Debbie stood up. "That no-good, son-of-a-bitch. I'll kill him." She ran towards the car as it sped away. "Come back here, you pathetic bastard."

"She sure can run," said Harold.

"High school track team," said Andie. "She was all-state in the one-hundred meter dash."

Benny stood up. "Jamie, I was just thinking about what you said, and I – I think I'd better jump on that Zipper down thing right now. I'll get back with you. We'll do lunch. Bye." He left in frenzy.

"What on earth is going on here?" asked Jamie.

"Man, that chick causes a scene wherever she goes," said Pizza Guy.

"She sure looked familiar," said Jamie.

"She should," said Nick. "You just fired her this morning, Jamie."

Pizza Guy got excited. "You're Jamie? Wow, like, I know all about you."

"Would anybody like to explain what is going on here?" asked Jamie.

"Let me do it, dude," said Pizza Guy. "I'm getting pretty good at it."

"Would you please go to that other table and take their order?" said an exasperated Nick.

"Sure, dude. Not a problem."

"Well Nick?" asked Jamie. Nick took a deep breath.

"Jamie, can we put the business talk on hold for a little while?"

"Look, Nick. I'm really sorry our little reunion had to get off on the wrong foot. I just got hired to take over a company and get it in shape for the buyer. I have to come off as being tough, stern, and powerful or else people will walk all over me."

"Yeah, I guess I understand. But what's up with calling me Nickster after all these years?"

"I guess you've been on my mind a lot, lately," Jamie said, as she hesitated, "To be honest with you -I am supposed to let you go. From the company, that is."

"Then, just do it. Get it over with. You already let me go from you seventeen years ago. You should be used to it by now."

Jamie's tough face got a little softer. "Nick – I really feel terrible for what I did to you all those years ago."

"Oh – you feel terrible. No big deal. You just kind of took my heart and tore it into a gazillion pieces, without explanation, and left me stranded to figure out why."

Jamie lowered her head. "I'm so sorry." Her tough persona softened.

"No address, no phone number. I couldn't even get your parents to tell me where you went to school."

"I made them promise not to tell."

"What did I do to you that made you disappear from my life like that?"

Pizza Guy returned to the table. "Can I take your order now?"

Jamie thought the situation needed some calming down. "Bring us a bottle of your finest wine."

Pizza Guy looked into Jamie's beautiful green eyes. "Sure." He walked away and stopped. "Wait a second. Sorry lady, we don't serve alcohol here."

Being ever so resourceful, Jamie reached into her purse. "Okay, how about this?" She pulled out some cash. "Here's fifty bucks. Why don't you go across the street to that 7-eleven and get us a bottle of anything decent you can find – and keep the change."

"Cool," he said, as he grabbed the cash and ran across the street.

Elderberry was a little unnerved as Pizza Guy ran past him. He jumped as the homeless man walked up to him and tapped on his window.

"You a cop?" asked the man. Gerome rolled his window down.

"Who wants to know?" he said, as he looked at the man in disgust.

"I see you looking at that man across the street. He knows the secret to what's going on with that murder."

"What man and what murder?" asked Gerome.

"Ah, you don't have to play games with me, mister. I know that the drummer that died a couple of nights ago was murdered. That man over there holds the key." The old man stared directly at Harold.

"That little weasel?" said Gerome, as he looked at Nick.

"That little weasel, as you call him, is involved in a big con job. I'm sure of it."

"What makes you so sure – and who the hell are you?"

"That doesn't matter. Just keep an eye on that man and he'll lead you to the murderer and to something else. Here, keep this picture. I don't know if it'll help you now, but you might be able to use it later." He handed a photo to Elderberry. The photo displayed what appeared to be a woman, a younger version of the old man, and someone who had a strong resemblance to Nick.

Gerome was intrigued. "Look here, Mister. I don't have any hard evidence that it was a murder. I do know that my intuition is always right. Why don't you let me buy you some clean clothes and get you bathed? What's your name?"

"Just call me Joe. I don't want your money or anything like that. Just keep an eye on that man. I gotta go."

"Wait a second," hollered Gerome. As he got out his car to go after him, Pizza Guy was running out the store with the wine. They ran into each other and Pizza Guy dropped the bottle.

"Why don't you watch where the goddamn hell you're going?" said an angry Gerome.

"Sorry, dude. I better get another bottle." Elderberry ran to the side of the building, but the old man was nowhere to be found. Why would that old man give me a picture of someone who looks like Pel-tire? he thought.

"I thought we were having a business lunch," said Nick.

"Forget business," said Jamie. "It's time we talked." The crashing of the bottle of wine Pizza Guy dropped was heard at that moment. Nick turned his head for a second to look at the commotion, and then turned back to Jamie.

"Please don't tell me you went to a Christian university."

"I did go to Notre Dame. Why do you ask?"

"A Catholic school. This is getting a little weird. You wouldn't happen to own any AC/DC or Van Halen albums, would you?"

"What are you getting at?"

"How about snake-skin boots? You own any snake-skin boots?"

"Where in the hell are you going with these questions?"

"Exactly."

"Nick, you are really starting to worry me." Jamie was concerned. She remembered Nick as always being cool, calm and confident. This version was nothing like that.

"How about the Pope? Do you know him? Does your toilet need repairing? Do you like jalapenos on your pizza now? Do you like – disco?" He was covering all the bases of his Devil paranoia.

Jamie was both worried and frustrated. "No, no, no, and - yes."

"I knew it." Case closed, thought Nick. Pizza Guy came running back to the table with a new bottle of wine. It was the store's best – a 750 ml bottle of Riunite. He grabbed two water glasses on the way and quickly poured the wine.

"That was quick," said Jamie.

"No problem, ma'am. Dodging traffic and knocking down undercover cops always give me a rush." He turned to Nick. "So dude, did she tell you why she didn't give it up yet?"

"Will you please get out of here?" screamed Nick.

"Oh, wow. I forgot to pay for the wine this last time." He ran back across the street.

"Just how much of this story has gotten out, Nick?" asked Jamie.

"A lot more than you care to know," said Nick. He looked at Andie's table and noticed her sitting closer to Harold. Nick was a master at multitasking his dilemmas.

"You seem a little preoccupied with that couple next to us," said an observant Jamie. "Do you know them?"

"Yeah. She's my best friend and I want to make sure she's having a good time."

Jamie smiled. "You were always thinking about other people. You haven't changed a bit. You're still a sweetheart."

Andie was still half-listening to the conversation and turned her head for a second.

"Don't say that too loud," whispered Nick. "I have a reputation to protect."

Jamie handed a glass of wine to Nick. "Well, here's a toast – to good friends."

"Yeah, right. Whatever." Nick raised his glass to make a toast with Jamie, and then drank the entire glass while Jamie took a sip.

"You really don't have any idea why I left you the way I did, do you?"

"No – not a clue. It's been tormenting me for seventeen years. And you still didn't answer my question - if I was so good to you, what made you leave like that?"

Jamie paused for a second. "You fell in love with me."

Nick was surprised. "Was that so terrible?" He refilled his glass.

"Nick, there was no way I could love you back the same way."

"But you gave me all the signals. What I mean is - the only thing we didn't do was make love. I know we came real close, and I don't want to sound like a complete jerk, but I knew you had made love with someone else before me." He gulped more of the wine. " I can't understand why you couldn't do it with me."

Jamie took a quick sip of wine. "We were so young and I was terrified because I thought I was falling in love with you, too. But it's much more complicated than that. You see, Nick, back then, if you were a certain type of person, you couldn't let it be known. By the way, where did you hear that I had been with someone else?"

"Well, first of all, Wanda told me you were seeing someone else."

"Weren't you dating Wanda?"

"Yeah, but..."

"Where else?"

"I think it was Craig."

"Craig – the guy Shelly dated after you started seeing me. What did he say about me?"

"Really? Craig dated Shelly? I didn't know that." He really had no clue of what his ex-girlfriends did after he dumped them.

"What did he say?"

"He told me you were getting it steady from some guy there for a while."

"Who else?" asked Jamie. "Well, Mr. Robinson..."

"Mr. Robinson? The band director?"

"Yeah."

"What on earth did he say about me?"

Nick lowered his head. "He told me that you had been having sex with someone else long before you moved to Lafayette."

Jamie was livid. "Why would he say something like that?"

"Maybe it was because I asked him," Nick said.

"I can't believe you asked him a question like that. What were you thinking?"

"Obviously, I was thinking the worst."

"I guess you didn't know that Mr. Robinson was Angelle's uncle."

"Are you kidding?"

"No – I'm not."

"I'm starting to see a pattern here. You mean, after all this time, none of it was true?" asked Nick.

"Well, most of it wasn't true."

"Which part?"

"The part about me being with some guy and about me being with someone else before I moved there."

Nick started thinking. "So – that would leave the part about you seeing someone else."

"Do you know who that person was?" She was hoping that after all the inquiries Nick made; he would have figured it out. This was getting more challenging to talk about. They both took a few more sips.

"Let's see – Mr. Robinson was the sex before \- Craig was the some guy thing – that would leave Wanda, " said Nick.

"No – not who told you. I'm talking about the first person I made love to. Do you know who it was?"

Nick gulped down more wine. "So you did make love to somebody else before dating me." He started shaking his head. "No. I never found out. I was kind of hoping you would tell me yourself."

Jamie took another sip of wine to calm herself. "I'm so sorry. Do you want to know now?"

Nick finished the rest of his wine to prepare himself. "That depends – did I know him?"

"Well, yes and no."

"It's either yes or no, not both."

"Let me put it this way – you knew this person."

"So it's yes." Great. Its someone I know, thought Nick.

"Yes, you knew this person, and no, it's not a him."

"You mean – he's not a him." _Who is this strange guy_ , he thought.

"No, she's not a him."

"She's not a him? What the hell?"

"Right."

"So – she's a she?" Did I fall asleep in biology class on that day?

"Right."

Nick was puzzled. "What do you mean that she's a she?"

"Nick, please don't make this any harder than it already is."

"It can't possibly get more confusing than this. The way I have it figured out right now is he's not a she because she's a she. Jamie, we didn't go to school with any transvestites."

"It was Cheryl Anderson," Jamie blurted out.

"Cheryl wasn't a transvestite."

Jamie was reaching the point of total frustration. "Nick – Cheryl Anderson was the first person I ever made love to."

Pizza Guy walked to Andie's table, stopped, and stared open-mouthed. Andie and Harold spun to look at Jamie. Nick was in a state of shock.

"Nick, are you okay?" asked Jamie, as she poured him more wine. Nick looked at the glass Jamie just poured, shoved it aside, and grabbed the bottle, instead. He took a few gulps and put down the bottle. He needed something stronger to make it through tis conversation.

"All these years – I thought Cheryl was a girl," said Nick.

"Nick, you idiot, she is a girl." Jamie was about to lose control.

He had to gather his thoughts for a few seconds. "Let's see, here. Cheryl Anderson was the first person you ever made love to and she was a girl – probably still is – then, that means you are..."

"A lesbian," declared Jamie. Nick hesitated. "Excuse me? I could have sworn you just said you were a lesbian."

"I did."

"Why did you say that?"

"Because I am."

"Are you sure you're not trying to say you're Lebanese? I mean, I thought the O'Malley family name would have meant you were Irish, but..."

"Damn it, Nick. I – am – a – lesbian."

Nick grabbed his glass of wine, drank it all, then grabbed the bottle and drank more.

"And just when did you realize that?" he asked.

"Actually, falling in love with you made me realize that there was no possibility of me being with a man."

Nick was stunned. He stared into Jamie's still lustful eyes a few seconds without making any movement. He couldn't blink or even breath. He took a deep breath and said, "I'm not sure, but I think I've just been majorly insulted."

"No, not at all, Nick. You see - Cheryl and I had to keep our relationship a secret since, at that time, being a lesbian wasn't exactly fashionable. I started to see you and really enjoyed the times we spent together. But, deep down, I knew who I was and I didn't want to fool myself, or for that matter, you. So, after graduation, I purposely left without a trace. I wanted to explore my sexuality. I know Notre Dame wasn't exactly the best place to do that, but I got a scholarship and couldn't pass it up. I took a plane to South Bend right after graduation. I couldn't bring myself to tell you."

Andie was trying hard not to listen to the conversation, but couldn't help it. She felt so bad for Nick, but was still intrigued by Harold. Nick shook his head in disbelief.

"Man, all these years, I've been thinking there was something wrong with me."

"Absolutely not," assured Jamie. "If there was any man I ever wanted to be with, it definitely would have been you."

"Should I take that as a compliment?"

"Absolutely."

Nick grabbed the bottle of wine, and finished it off.

CHAPTER NINETEEN: _The Journey Begins_

Nick was starting to feel the effects of the wine.

"Man, I can't believe I've been beating myself up for all these years, just because of some minor technicality."

"I wouldn't call this minor where you're concerned," said Jamie. "So tell me, Nick, have you ever been serious with anyone else?"

"No," said Nick. "But don't get me wrong – I've had my share of women." He noticed Andie turning her head to hear the conversation. "But, never anyone I can say I was actually in love with."

"What about your friend there?" Jamie pointed her thumb towards Andie.

"You mean, Andie?" He lowered his voice, realizing that she may be overhearing the conversation. "She's just my friend."

"Didn't I hear you say she was your best friend?"

"You're right. I did say that. She is my best friend." Nick meant it.

Andie was trying her best to ignore the conversation. Harold noticed and did his best to keep their own conversation flowing.

"Nick," Jamie said, "You're in love with her."

"No, damn it. I just told you, she's just my best friend."

Jamie added, "I know I haven't seen you in seventeen years, but I'm pretty sure I still know you – and there is no way you can be best friends with a woman."

"Was that a shot?"

"No, just a fact."

"Well, for one thing, you're being pretty presumptuous, and another thing – I don't think of her in that way. She's my friend. I mean, don't get me wrong again, I wouldn't mind doing her, but – no, wait. Forget I just said that."

"You've never slept with her?"

"That's right."

"But you want to."

"That's right – No, damn it, wait a second. You're putting words in my mouth," said Nick. He kept forgetting that Andie and Harold could hear every word, no matter how hard they tried not to.

"But you just said you wouldn't mind sleeping with her," said Jamie.

"I started to say it, but I took it back."

"But, subconsciously, you'd like to."

Nick was irritated. "Ah, hell, Jamie. Just look at her. Who in their right mind wouldn't want to sleep with her?" Andie was fidgeting.

"Honestly?" said Jamie, "I wouldn't mind."

Andie started choking on her salad as she heard Jamie's remark.

Nick was overwhelmed. "Oh, my God. I can't believe you just said that."

"Why, just because we have the same taste in women?" asked Jamie.

"Oh, man, Jamie. Let me say this one more time. I – don't – want – to – sleep – with – Andie."

Andie and Harold both turned their heads to stare at Nick. Nick and Jamie were enthralled in their conversation. They didn't notice the stares.

"But, you'd like to sleep with me," said Jamie.

Nick's eyes opened wide. "What are you getting at?"

"You'd like to have sex with me," Jamie stated.

Harold's phone started ringing. It was Peter Grimes calling from the office.

"But, you're a lesbian," stated Nick.

"Just answer the question."

"You know, all these years, I've wondered what I've missed by not being with you. I'm not talking about just the sex part, I mean, I've wondered what I missed by not being with the one person I thought I wanted to spent the rest of my life with. Now – you're asking me an irrelevant question, because it doesn't matter what my answer is. I can't have you."

Andie was engulfed in Nick's words. She didn't notice Harold trying to get her attention.

"Mr. Grimes needs me back at the office, immediately, Andie" said Harold.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harold. What did you just say?"

"I have to get back to the office. We can get our food to go and try to grab Debbie on the way." He motioned for a to-go order and a check.

"Oh, sure. That'll be fine," said Andie, feeling good about Harold and confused about Nick. Pizza Guy brought their food order out in take-out boxes and Harold and Andie left. Andie turned to give Nick one last look, which he didn't notice.

"Nick, honey, this is important," said Jamie. "Do you still want to sleep with me?"

He looked at her, smiled, and said, "You know what? No – I don't want to sleep with you anymore." He thought for a second. "Whoa. Did I just say that?"

Jamie was all smiles. "Yes, you did, and you know what? I couldn't be happier."

"Why are you so happy about that?"

"Don't you see? Since you found Andie - you've been too scared to pursue a relationship with her. She's stirred up emotions that you haven't felt since high school with me. You feel that you would lose her, the same way you lost me, if you let yourself fall in love with her."

"God, Jamie. You really flatter yourself."

"But I'm right, aren't I?"

"I don't know – wait a second. Hold on just one damn minute. You're doing it to me again. You are totally screwing up my head."

"No, sweetheart. As a matter of fact, I'm clearing it up."

"And just how are you doing that?"

"By putting closure on the part of your life which has been confusing you for all these years."

"Closure?" asked Nick. "You call this closure? You're opening up old wounds again."

Jamie scooted her chair close to Nick and put her arm around him. She put her other hand on Nick's hand. She started to rub the top of his sweaty and with her soft thumb.

"Nick, you always have and always will have a very special place in my heart. I've felt extremely guilty all these years for what I put you through. When I got hired to help this transition of Apocalypse to the new company, and I found out you worked for them, I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to talk to you. Now that I have, it feels as if a huge weight has been lifted." She looked in Nick's eyes and gave him a sweet little kiss on the lips. "That's why the Nickster name popped out. It reminded me of the only man who had ever touched my heart. Now, go on out there and listen to your own heart."

Nick was startled. Her lips didn't taste like he remembered. He didn't get the same overwhelming sensation he once did.

"How am I supposed to listen to my heart when I don't know how to feel anymore?"

Jamie put her hand on his shoulder. "I think you need to put some distance between you and this place. According to your files, you haven't traveled in over a year. Why don't you search for Zipper Down's replacement somewhere far away from here?"

"You think running away will help me find my heart?"

"You'd be surprised what distance can do. That's how I got over you."

"You have a point there."

"And besides, being away from Andie might be the kick you need to realize how you feel about her."

"So you think I should go away for a while."

"Yes, far away."

"Any suggestions?"

Jamie pulled out a plane ticket from her briefcase. "I was hoping the meeting would go this way, so I took the liberty of booking you on a flight to Chicago. You leave this evening."

"Why Chicago?"

"Why not? The Cramping Violets are going to need some diversification as well as great publicity to make it big. Check out some drummers in Chicago for a few days. I've got you booked on a flight to New Orleans after that."

Nick started squirming. "Jamie – I haven't been there in a long time."

"All the more reason to go. If you can't find a decent replacement there, I have a ticket to Seattle for you. Don't come back until you find a drummer."

"You know, I really haven't left town since Andie moved here."

"You see, you're already starting to think clearer," said Jamie. "You get yourself ready. I'll let Ben know what's going on. Good luck, sweetheart. Don't forget to listen to your heart." They both stood up and gave each other a big hug.

"Listen to my heart," said Nick. "I think I can do that."

"Keep in touch. I put your itinerary with the tickets. Your hotels are booked. Let me know your progress."

Nick smiled. "Thanks, Jamie. I'll keep in touch." He staggered away from the table, feeling the effects of the wine, and walked towards his apartment. After a few steps, he turned back to look at Jamie. She looked like a normal woman – as opposed to the unattainable goddess he had been imagining all these years.

Jamie sat down, took her last sip of wine from the glass, and smiled.

CHAPTER TWENTY: _Such Nice Boys_

Harold went to Peter Grimes's office. Ursula greeted him before he went in. She ran her fingertips through her curly hair and cracked a smile. She had a crush on Harold.

"He's pretty upset, Harold. I thought I'd better warn you," she said. He took a deep breath then walked into the office. Peter was pacing the floor.

"It's about time you got here, Rogers," said Peter. "He called."

"It must have been right after I saw him today," said Harold.

"Where did you see him?"

"He was on the side of a 7-Eleven in the Village. I saw him right before you called. He was having some words with some undercover cop."

"That would have to be Gerome Elderberry. He's our only problem. I hear he's one relentless son-of-a-bitch."

"I'm pretty sure the old man noticed me," said Harold.

"Well, he said he saw evil lurking around in the darkness," said Peter. "I guess he meant you."

Harold laughed. "What else did he say?"

"He said that dark clouds would cover our operations, and something about the Devil being in our bathrooms."

"He's one crazy old man," said Harold.

"We have to make sure he stays that way," said Peter. "How did your lunch meeting go?"

"It was fine. Keeping an eye on Andie is going to be an easier job than I could have imagined."

"I envy you, Rogers. That Andie is one sweet piece of meat."

"And I want to thank you for giving her to me for this project. I'm sure there are going to be a lot of fringe benefits, if you know what I mean."

"How about that Deborah Bailey chick?" asked Grimes.

"She's the icing on the cake. All I did was plant the seed and she did all the gardening. She's practically throwing Andie in my lap."

Peter smiled. "I bet you can talk yourself into a little three-way action, if you know what I mean."

Harold laughed. "I wouldn't mind that one bit." He really meant it. He was a certified sexoholic. He hadn't had a chance to find a new therapist since he moved to New Lake City.

"I just want you to keep close tabs on her. Keep her close to the Verona file only, and don't – under any circumstance - let her find out about the old man. I'm counting on you."

"No problem, sir. By the way, how much longer will Mr. Wainwright be on his – safari?"

Grimes laughed. "That bastard may never come back. Maybe he got eaten by a pack of wild lions."

Harold laughed along with him. "Hasn't he been gone for almost a year now?"

Peter stopped laughing. "You know, you're right. Maybe it's time he comes back from Africa. It was supposed to be for just a year. It'll look suspicious if he doesn't."

"How about a plane crash?" asked Harold.

"That could be arranged. We'll need some more time, though. This Apocalypse Records arrangement could take some time."

"Speaking of which," said Harold, "I saw the woman who's taking over the company today." He made air quotation marks. "We had lunch right next to them."

Peter was confused. "What woman and who is them?"

"Her name is Jamie O'Malley, I think. She has some kind of connection with Andie's friend, Nick. They were there, having a meeting – her, Nick, and Ben Myers."

"We didn't arrange any meeting. How can somebody be taking over when we're handling the transition?" Peter was outraged. "We didn't put in a dummy figure head yet. Somebody is working on this deal that isn't supposed to be. We need to find out who it is."

"I'll be right on it," said an eager Harold. "I guess I'll just have to spend more time with Andie."

Peter calmed down and grinned. "You son-of-a-bitch. Make sure you give me all the details." He had complete trust in Mr. Rogers.

Jamie was sitting in her new office when the phone rang.

She answered, "Hello, this is Jamie O'Malley \- yes, sir. I just took care of it. He'll be on a plane tonight – No, sir. He doesn't suspect a thing – Chicago, for about three days, then New Orleans – yes, sir. I'm sure he'll be contacting me soon."

Jamie's secretary peeked in the door and said, "Excuse me, ma'am. There's a Gerome Elderberry waiting for you out here. He's rude and claims it's urgent."

"Speak of the Devil, sir," Jamie said to the caller. "He's here now. I'll call you right after – yes, sir."

She hung up the phone and said, "Send him in."

Elderberry sashayed in. "I guess you're the new HDIC."

"Excuse me?" demanded Jamie.

"Oh, my mistake. I guess it would be HCIC." Gerome was as rude as he was thorough.

"How can I help you - sir?"

"Cut the crap, lady. You know who I am. I saw you staring at me today at lunch. What kind of operation are you running here?"

"I don't understand what you're getting at," Jamie said. She gave Elderberry a smirk, which she knew would tick him off. Elderberry caught his breath.

"Okay, you want to know what I'm getting at? Here it is. The autopsy report hasn't arrived, but I don't need it. Zipper Down didn't commit suicide and it wasn't an accident - it was murder."

"And this concerns me, how?"

"You think that this change of command will hide the fact that somebody in your company committed the murder? Well, missy, you're screwing with the wrong guy. Let me ask you – how are you going to handle this situation?"

"We'll issue a press release and go from there."

"Will you exploit it?"

"I wouldn't call it exploitation." She was relishing toying with him.

"Then what would you call it?"

"I would just call it a statement regarding the state of a band who just released an album, who just lost a drummer, and who are grieving."

"Do you think it will increase album sales?"

"Sir, this is a media-driven business we're in. Sales are generated by the quality of the product and the popularity of the group."

"And needless to say, the band's popularity will probably soar after this incident."

"Yes, it probably will." Putty in my hands, thought Jamie.

"Who is in charge of this band?"

"That would be Nicholas Peltier."

"Pel-tire," said Gerome. "I should have known. Where is he now? I'd like to ask him a few questions."

"He's getting ready to go to Chicago."

"Chicago? Oh, I see. Send him out of town until this mess is over with. Well, you're not going to get away with this. What time does his plane leave?"

"Sir - and I use that expression loosely - what gives you the impression I would like to give you all this information? You have been rude, obnoxious, unprofessional, and downright mean. I'm sending Nicholas Peltier on the seven o'clock American Airlines flight to Chicago to start looking for a replacement drummer. He'll be staying at the Hilton Chicago and Towers. I think you're wasting your time, Elderberry. Nick didn't kill Zipper Down, he didn't arrange a murder, nor does Apocalypse Records have anything to do with it."

"You are so easy," said Gerome. "Thank you, so very much. I'll let myself out." As he walked away, Jamie heard him say, "What a dumb bitch."

Jamie smiled, called the previous caller, and said, "Sir, this is O'Malley again. He will definitely be on that late flight tonight."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: _Line, Please_

Debbie had taken the afternoon off. She was still shaken from seeing Tony riding with Kat in Benny's car. She spent the afternoon drinking. She felt better after drinking an entire bottle of Chardonnay. The phone rang and she stumbled to pick it up.

"Hell-oo?" she asked, trying to hold her composure.

"Hello, my little meatball," said Tony.

"Go to hell," said Debbie, as she slammed down the phone. Tony called back. She had no intention of answering it. One of her fellow actors picked her up, so she didn't have to drive. The phone rang for the tenth time as she staggered out the door.

At rehearsal, Donovan gathered his players on stage.

"All right, everybody. You've all had the chance to look over the scripts. Let's see how much we can put together this evening. Debbie, start with the opening line."

Debbie looked at the line. It was blurry, so she relied on her memory.

"I'm here today, people, to stell you a tory," she slurred.

"Debbie, sweetie," said Donovan, "It's to tell you a story. Let's try it again."

She stood in place. "I'm here today - to story you people."

"Love, please, let's try it again."

She took a deep breath. "I'm here today - "

"People."

"People, to - "

"Tell you."

"Tell you a - "

"Story," yelled Donavan. He was peeved.

"Yeah, I got it - I'm here today, people, to sell you..."

"Tell you, damn it." He became a little more disturbed.

"Tell me what?" asked Debbie.

"The word is tell." Donavan's coolness was melting.

"You don't have to be so sarcastic about it. Let me try it again."

"Please do." Donavan's frustration level was just about maxed out.

Debbie put her head down to concentrate, raised it up, smiled, and recited,

"I'm here today, people, to tell you a story. It's one about love, deceit, betrayal, passion, and the love one woman has for her man."

"Great," said Donovan. "Continue." He exhaled a sigh of relief.

"It's a story about how a woman can close her eyes to the real world, and live in a completely different one – where husbands don't cheat, politicians don't lie -"

"Go on," said Donovan.

"And boyfriends don't run around with blonde bimbos right in front of you."

Donovan looked at the script. "Debbie, sweetheart, that's not the line."

"A story of how a gorgeous hunk of an Italian man can sweep you off your feet, promise you all kinds of stories about love and stupid shit like that. And you know what? He is Satan."

Donovan stared at the script. "Debbie, just where in the Helen Hayes are you reading from?"

She burst into tears and ran off the stage.

"Damn prima donnas," said Donovan.

Nick climbed on board the plane at five fifty-nine. He sat in his first class seat and buckled up as the plane took off. He was up for it. He loved the feel of the plane as it took off, pushing him back into the seat. He felt a sudden burst of freedom. He looked out his window and saw New Lake City. It was an attractive place to live. The beautiful sunset allowed just enough light to see his house, the Eagleton building, the 7-Eleven, and Balls & Burgers. He even noticed the abandoned Ratzenburger propane store. He could follow Deville Creek and he saw how it ran in back of the wealthiest neighborhood in town. Within that secluded area, it was easy to spot the Wainwright mansion. The flight attendant came to him.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" she asked. Nick looked at her. She was his type – mesmerizing.

"I'd like a rum and coke, if you don't mind," he said with a grin.

Meanwhile, back at the airport, Elderberry arrived to question Nick. He didn't see a seven o'clock flight to Chicago from American Airlines. He did see a six o'clock flight soar away into the clouds. He went to the ticket counter.

"Excuse me, miss," asked Elderberry.

"May I help you, sir?" said the little lady from the counter.

"Did your seven o'clock flight leave an hour early?"

"We don't have a seven o'clock, sir. We have only a six."

"That bitch."

"Excuse me?"

"That goddamn red-headed bitch. She told me the flight was at seven."

"Sir, if you would just settle down, I'm sure we can find you another flight."

"I don't want another flight, goddamn it. I wanted to question that asshole on the flight that just left."

"I'm sorry sir." Gerome started thinking. I bet she sent me here late, thinking I would miss him. She doesn't think I would follow him to Chicago. That's it. "Can you help me get another flight to Chicago tonight?" he asked the ticket agent.

The little silver-haired lady checked her computer. "Let me see – yes, sir. I can get you on an eight forty-five on Delta."

"That's great. Do it."

The attendant made all the arrangements. "How will you be paying for this, sir?"

"With my looks, what the damn hell do you think?" he said, as he threw his credit card on the counter. He presented his badge and asked to meet with airport security to arrange clearance for him to carry his gun.

"Here you go, sir. Airport security is just around that corner snack bar," she said as she handed him the ticket. He grabbed it without so much as a thank you. She picked up the phone. "Hello, Ms. O'Malley. It's all set."

"Great, thanks," said Jamie, as she hung up the phone. Since it was after five, her secretary had already left for the day. There was nobody to stop Benny, as he came running into the room.

Jamie looked and asked, "Yes, Ben. What can I do for you?"

"I got one," he said.

"One, what?"

"I found a replacement drummer," Benny was ecstatic.

"How did you find one so fast?"

"Well, I went a little nuts after our meeting. I'm really sorry about that. I guess seeing Kat with Tony kind of freaked me out a little. But then I figured – who cares. I've got a job to do and I'm not going to let murderous ex-girlfriend ruin my career."

"I don't understand what you're saying. What do you mean about a murderous ex-girlfriend?"

"It doesn't matter. I've got the perfect replacement."

"When you say murderous, are you referring to the supposed Zipper Down murder?" This was a revelation she wasn't ready for.

"It's okay, Jamie. I'm fine now. Let me tell you about this drummer."

"Ben, wait. Do you know something about Zipper Down's death that I don't?"

"Look, I can't prove Kat didn't do it, and frankly, I don't care anymore. Let me tell you about this drummer."

"Okay, go ahead," Jamie said.

"After I left the meeting, I did a lot of thinking. That's when I realized the answer was right in front of me - the Pizza Guy."

"Who's the Pizza Guy?"

"He's the guy who waited on us at the bistro today. He told us he was a drummer, so I went back there and asked him if he'd like an audition. I brought him to our studio and let him play. He was totally awesome. I got the other members of The Cramping Violets together and let them hear him play. They were blown away. We spent the rest of the day getting to know him. He fits perfectly. The guys love him."

"That's nice, Ben, but what do you know about..."

"And you know what else? I think I can get Julie Templeton's commitment to make a video with the band."

"Isn't she the BreastMaster model?"

"She sure is," he said with a proud smile.

"I absolutely love her," said Jamie.

"Yeah, me too," said Benny.

"How did you get her?"

"Well, I made a few calls, and..."

"When is she coming to town?"

"Well, I thought we'd go to LA to shoot, since..."

"Nonsense. You have her flown here. We'll shoot the video at the lake. This is great. Super job on this one, Ben."

"I never saw a woman get this excited over another woman before," said a surprised Benny.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to meet her. Make the arrangements."

"Sure, no problem. By the way, have you seen Nick since the meeting? I'd like to tell him the news."

Jamie hesitated. "Nick's on his way to Chicago right now. I, uh, have him on a special assignment."

"Really?" asked Benny. "How did you get him to leave the city?" Benny had been trying to get Nick to travel for months.

"Ben, I know Nick. I know what it takes to get him motivated. If you had thought of how to do that a few years ago, maybe this company wouldn't be in the mess it's in now. Maybe Mr. Levon would still have a job."

That hit home for Benny. He was going to miss that big, grumpy old man.

"You're right, ma'am."

Jamie was glad she put him back into his place. "That's okay, Ben, and you don't have to call me ma'am."

"Okay - Jamie."

"Now, what did you say about a murderous ex-girlfriend?"

Benny told Jamie the whole story of how they dated, the night of the party, and of Kat's leaving with Zipper down.

"Are you sure Kat is the one who left the party with him?" asked Jamie.

"I don't know, anymore. That detective character sure thinks so. He wanted to question her about that night."

"I don't think we have to worry about Gerome Elderberry for a while. Let's just get on with business as usual. No, I'm sorry - that would mean bad business. Forget what I just said. Keep up the great work with the band and make sure they practice their butts off with the new drummer. Work up a single release date and a tour to follow. Make sure the world knows about The Cramping Violets, Zipper Down, and this new guy."

"Pizza Guy," said Benny.

"That can't be his real name. What is it?"

"Actually, I don't remember what it is. The band kept calling him Pizza Guy and it just stuck."

"That's okay. We can use Pizza Guy as his name. It is kind of catchy. Go out there and set the world on fire with The Cramping Violets."

"You got it."

"And, Ben."

"Yes?"

"Don't forget to tell me when Julie gets here."

"No problem. Good-night." He walked out and thought to himself, She sure is excited about seeing Julie.

Jamie picked up the phone and made a call to the same person as before. "Hello, sir, this is O'Malley, again. The plan's moving faster than I anticipated – a new drummer – yes, sir – I've been assured – yes, sir, videos, single releases, and a tour – eight forty-five to Chicago – Delta – yes, sir. Thank you, very much. Good-bye."

Now it was time for Jamie's real work to begin.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: _Sweet Shanice_

Nick was enjoying the flight. The flight attendant was taking a break and sat in the empty chair next to Nick. She was a goddess.

"I hope you don't mind if I sit here a few minutes," she asked Nick.

"No, not at all," he replied. "I'm Nick."

"My name is Shanice," said the beautiful African-American flight attendant. "Is this your first trip to Chicago?"

"Actually, it is."

"Business or pleasure?"

"Business. I'm supposed to be finding a replacement drummer for a band."

"Are you in the music business?"

"Yeah, I work for Apocalypse Records."

"You're kidding?" asked Shanice. "My father made a record for them in the sixties. Maybe you've heard of him – Barry Washington."

"Of course I have," said Nick. "He was the best jazz artist that ever recorded for Apocalypse. His picture is on our Wall of Fame back at the office. Whatever happened to him?"

"He went on to record with Atlantic, but they never promoted the record. He lost his record deal and became a private music teacher. He still likes to hang out in the jazz clubs in Chicago."

"That's a shame," said Nick. "You know, Mr. Levon always made it a point to promote all the artists he signed to their full potential. I guess that won't be happening anymore."

"Why not?"

"Well, we just got bought out by some big company, I have no idea who, and I'm taking orders from my lesbian ex-girlfriend."

"That sounds like quite a story."

"Believe me, you don't want me to get into it."

"What kind of drummer are you looking for?" Shanice gave Nick a sincere look. He could tell it wasn't just because of her job requirement. She was sincerely interested.

"A reckless rock drummer. He has to have an abusive image, repulsive attitude, and a fascination with death." Wow, that came out sounding weird, he thought.

"What about pure talent?"

"That would be a plus." Shanice reached in her pocket, took out a stack of cards, and gave one to Nick.

"Here's a card for a club my dad said is one of the best in Chicago. You should check it out. He's always there on Tuesday nights."

Nick looked at the card. The Green Mill, Chicago's Best Jazz, he read. "That doesn't sound like the kind of place I need to go to find a rock drummer."

"Well, maybe you'll find something else you need."

"You think I need something else?"

"Open your eyes, sugar. I think you were sent here to find more than just a drummer." The look on her face went from friendly to serious.

Nick started getting nervous. "What makes you say that?"

She looked around to see if anyone was listening. "Nick, you're on a mission to find something a lot more important than just a drummer."

"What is the deal with everybody telling me what I'm doing? You just met me. You couldn't possibly know what kind of mission I'm on. I just told you – I was sent to Chicago to find a rock drummer by the woman who ruined my life."

"Were you?"

"Yes, I just told you."

"Why would you go to Chicago all the way from New Lake City, to find something as common as a rock drummer?"

"You've got a point there," he said. "Wait a second. This was all pre-arranged. Jamie sent me here and had the ticket in her hand before she even saw me."

"Would Jamie be the lesbian ex-lover?"

"Yeah, and she was pretty adamant about me going to Chicago right away. There's something going on. And why would you tell me that I'm on a mission more important than finding a rock drummer?"

"I have a gift, Nick. My father passed it on to me. I can look into a person's eyes and tell what's going on in their mind."

"Okay, if you're so talented, what am I thinking now?"

Shanice looked into Nick's eyes and smiled. "I don't think my husband would like the idea of me sleeping with you."

"Wait, that was too easy. Try again." Nick concentrated and changed his train of thought.

"Let's see – this ex-lesbian lover hurt you pretty bad. You are – relieved to be getting away from her, but at the same time – I think there is someone else."

Nick was taken aback. "That was pretty good."

"I told you I have a gift. Now will you go meet my dad at the Green Mill this evening?"

"Sure, and you never know – I might find what I'm looking for – whatever the hell that is."

"Let him know who you are. I'm sure he'll be glad to meet you." She smiled and got up to wait on the other passengers. Nick started wondering why she just happened to have a card for the Green Mill.

The plane landed at O'Hare International. Nick was the first one off the plane. He turned to tell Shanice good-bye, but she was nowhere to be found. Just as well, he thought. I don't need to get mixed up with a jealous husband.

Andie and Harold were having dinner at Monty's Steak House. They had the big corner booth, so they could spread all their files around while still getting something to eat.

"I'm really nervous about this case," said Andie. "Carlos Verona is such a powerful man. I wonder why Mr. Grimes handed it to me?"

"He has total confidence in you, Andie," said Harold. "I was telling him today how impressed I am with you."

"But you haven't even seen my work."

He smiled. "Oh, I sure plan to."

Andie turned red. "Let's get all these papers in order. I need to get home early so I can be ready for the deposition tomorrow."

"What's your hurry? Let's relax and have a drink."

"Not a bad idea."

The drinks were ordered, arrived in a rapid fashion, and went down just as fast. Andie was a little tipsy.

"Wow, these drinks are strong," she said.

"You're just tired. You've had a big day."

"And a strange one, too," Andie added.

"Are you talking about lunch?"

"Yeah. Nick was saying some strange things. And to find out Jamie was a lesbian – that was a real shocker to him."

"At least we know he doesn't want to sleep with you. He made that known loud and clear." Harold displayed a look that that asked if something else was going on between her and Nick.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that. We're the best of friends. I wonder how he's doing tonight?"

"I'm sure he's okay. By the way, how much has he told you about Jamie?"

"You want the whole story? That could take all night."

"Well, hopefully – we've got all night." He leaned over and gave Andie a long, sensuous kiss.

"That was really nice," said Andie, with a huge smile. "Can I borrow your phone?"

"Do you have to call somebody to tell them we just kissed?" asked a concerned Harold.

"No, silly. There's a lot more where that came from. I need to see if Nick's okay." She called Nick, but got his machine. "Hi, Nick. I just called to see if you were okay. If you get this message later tonight, don't call me. I'm going to be busy." She gave Harold back his phone, and grabbed his hand. "I think it's time you take me home." Harold knew he was back on track.

Debbie sat at home, drinking wine and eating ice cream. The phone kept ringing; she refused to answer. Tony gave up and went to her apartment. He banged on the door.

"Sweetheart, my little linguini, for the love of God, please open the door."

She picked up the phone. "Hello, security? This is Deborah Bailey in apartment twenty-three B. There's a crazy Italian trying to break into my apartment. Please have him removed."

The burly security guard showed up at the door within seconds and dragged Tony away.

"Don't do this to me, my darling. Why are you acting this way?" pleaded Tony.

The phone rang and this time, she picked it up. "Hello? - Yes, they just dragged the bastard away - Do I want to press charges? – No, not yet. Just please keep him away from me. Thanks."

Back at O'Hare International, the next plane from New Lake City arrived. Gerome Elderberry was the last person to leave the plane, since he was stuck in the back of the 747. He made a few steps into the airport, when he found himself surrounded by six security agents.

"Just what in the goddamn hell do you think you are doing?" he asked.

One of the men reached into Elderberry's coat and pulled out a gun.

"What's this?" asked the agent. He studied Gerome's loaded .22 caliber Smith & Wesson.

"It's a goddamn gun, you idiot - my gun."

"Down on the floor," he instructed.

"On that filthy floor? I don't think so. Do you people even know who I am?"

"Sir, get down on that floor." They pushed him on the floor, handcuffed him from behind, and read him his rights.

"I am Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry, head of New Lake City Homicide. I'm here on official business. I am authorized to carry that gun. It was cleared with the New Lake International authorities. You boys are making a grave mistake," said a humiliated Elderberry, as his face was facing the floor.

"New Lake International called us. They said a man fitting your description was on this plane. They said you would be identifying yourself as Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry. They said you would be carrying a gun." One guard kept a firm grip on Elderberry's twisting shoulders while the other one tried to stop the kicking legs.

"Well bravo for all you rent-a-cops. You understood what they said. And this is a problem – why?"

"Sir, the real Gerome Elderberry called the airport after takeoff. He told New Lake officials that an imposter would be on this plane, carrying a gun. You were being observed by an armed federal sky marshal the entire flight. We were instructed to apprehend the suspect, which is you, immediately upon your arrival."

"This is absurd. I am the real Gerome Elderberry." He was fuming.

"Chicago PD is waiting for you outside. They'll be taking you downtown. Let's go, sir." The two officers pick him up from the floor.

"Somebody will pay for this – dearly. There is a murder suspect loose in this city. I hope you realize that."

"For what it's worth, sir, this is Chicago. I'm sure there are lots of murder suspects running around in this city."

"Pel-tire is behind this. I know it. I'll get you, you greasy, shabby heathen." The two guards escorting Elderberry looked at each other, shook their heads, and smiled.

Andie was feeling the effects of the alcohol. When they arrived at her apartment, Andie invited Harold in.

"It's late and you shouldn't be driving in your condition," she said, with a smile. "Make yourself comfortable and I'll be right out." She went to her bedroom to change.

Harold looked around her apartment. He noticed a couple of pictures of Nick and Andie together. All of the poses were affable and didn't have a hint of showing more than a friendship.

Andie walked out of her bedroom, wearing a silk Victoria's Secret robe, which did little to hide the sexy red bra and panties underneath.

"You look absolutely gorgeous," said Harold.

"You didn't make yourself comfortable," said the inebriated Andie.

"Sorry about that," he said, as he took off his jacket and tie.

Andie started unbuttoning Harold's shirt, while kissing his neck. "I love the feel of your neck on my lips."

Harold was enjoying the moment. "It feels pretty good to me, too. You sure have a lot of pictures of you and Nick hanging around."

She stopped kissing him. "Why did you bring up Nick?"

"I'm just curious. How long have you known him?"

"Just over a year. Why do you want to talk about him?"

"I, uh, just want to make sure there's no competition." One thing he learned in therapy was to never have sex with a woman who was involved with someone else.

"Maybe this will satisfy your curiosity," she whispered as she parted his lips with her tongue and slid it around. She grabbed his hand and led him into the bedroom. She took off his shirt, revealing a washboard stomach. She started rubbing his chest, and kissing his nipples. Harold wanted to get some information about Jamie from her, but decided to give in to the moment. He pushed her onto the bed, slid her robe off and stared at her red-lace-covered breasts. He gently caressed them without taking off the bra. She let out a sexy moan. Andie slid her hand between his legs and found what she wanted. She started rubbing his erection outside his pants. While doing this, she felt a strange vibration. She reached around and felt his pager going off in his pocket.

"I was hoping it was me giving you the vibration," she said, using her best seductive voice.

Harold struggled to reach for his pager, which was in an uncomfortable place. He pulled it out and looked at the number.

He gave Andie a kiss and said, "I know it's rather rude of me to do this, but do you mind if I make a quick call?"

"Can't it wait?" asked Andie, while trying to catch her breath.

"I'll make it quick." He limped out of bed and made the call from the front room.

"Is there a problem?" asked Harold.

"Did you find out about Jamie O'Malley yet?" asked Peter Grimes.

"No, I'm kind of working on it right now," he said in a low voice.

"Why are you whispering?"

"I'm in her apartment right now, and things are going kind of..."

"You're getting it?" Peter asked. "How is it?"

"I'm kind of in the starting phase of it, Peter. I'll work on it."

"Well, I just want to warn you, Jamie O'Malley has nothing to do with the buyout. I talked to you-know-who just now, and he never heard of her. He said it wasn't supposed to start until next week."

"That is interesting," said Harold. "Keep me posted and I'll do what I can."

"Great, now get back in there and give me all the details."

"Yes, sir. No problem," whispered Harold. He went back into the bedroom and saw Andie fast asleep on the bed, clutching Atticus Finch. He started kissing her to wake her up, but it was no use. She was out. He put his shirt on, left a note, and grabbed his jacket. He never got an official invitation to spend the night. He didn't want to ruin a good thing. He needed to find out who Jamie really was.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: _The Dark Seduction_

After Nick dropped off his luggage at the hotel, he took a cab to The Green Mill. There was a four-piece combo playing smoothest live jazz he had ever heard. It had been years since he had sat and relaxed to a jazz band. The waitress came to his table and took his drink order.

"I'll have a triple Jack Daniel's on the rocks," he told the lovely waitress. He listened to the smooth licks coming from the guitarist. The bassist seemed as if he was playing another song, but it fit. The keyboardist was tickling the plastic ivories of his Fender Rhodes Seventy-three with the finesse of a skilled surgeon. The drummer blended in so well, Nick could barely tell there was one playing. He would accent the other musician's strong parts, while keeping the rhythm with the precision of a metronome.

The waitress came back and Nick asked if Barry Washington was there. She pointed to the table right next to him. There was a rather large black man, with salt and pepper hair and beard, and a suit right out of the sixties. He had a gold lame jacket, ruffled shirt, and tuxedo pants. He was bobbing his head to the rhythm of the song. Nick slid his chair over to introduce himself.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you Barry Washington?"

The man turned his head to look at Nick. "Who wants to know?" he asked.

"My name is Nick Peltier. I'm with Apocalypse Records."

The man's face lit up. "You with Apocalypse?" He started laughing."What kind of crazy crackers does Mr. Levon got working for him now?"

"He's not with the company anymore, sir," said Nick.

"Just as well. Record industry ain't no place for a man of that caliber. How in the hell do you know who I am?"

"I met your daughter on the plane this evening. She said I should look you up."

"That damn little girl of mine is always trying to start up something. I ain't trying to get no recording contract started again."

"I don't think that's the reason she wanted me to find you."

"Well, what the hell do you think it is?"

"She said you could help me find what I'm looking for."

"Well, spit it out, man. What you looking for?"

"A rock drummer."

Barry started laughing. "I can tell you this, son. You ain't gonna find one of them here. This is a jazz club. Look at that cat drumming over there. You think he's interested in rock and roll? Hell no. He's playing good music."

"I have to admit it," said Nick. "He is great, and don't get me wrong, I love jazz. I was sent here to find a rock drummer, though, so that's what I need to find."

"Did Shanice mention something about you needing to find something more than just drummer?"

"As a matter of fact, she did."

Barry started laughing again. "I love that little girl, but she's got some crazy ways."

"What do you mean?"

"She says I gave her some kind of gift. That's bullcrap. She's just a sweet child who likes to give other people hope."

"Hope for what?"

"You know, dreams. People are always looking for something they got no idea what it is. Look at you. You're in a jazz club looking for a rock drummer."

"Yeah, so what is your point?"

"She sent you here to find something else."

"Okay, I already got that impression. Do you know what it is?"

"Do I look like some kind of psychic, boy? I don't know what you're looking for."

"Well I don't either. If people keep telling me I'm not looking for what I am looking for, how am I supposed to know what it is I am looking for if they won't even tell me what it is?" Nick scowled at Barry, waiting for an answer.

Barry paused a couple of seconds, smiled, then said, "Why don't you just kick back and listen to these cats. Maybe it'll come to you."

Nick finished his drink and ordered another one for himself, and one for Barry. He listed to the band go into jazzy rendition of Running with the Devil.

"What in the hell are they doing?" screamed Nick.

"Settle down, son. They're just doing their own interpretation of a Van Halen classic. You sure are an uptight white boy."

"How do you know about Van Halen?" asked Nick.

"Boy, I never said I didn't like rock and roll. I've been keeping up. It ain't got nothing on jazz, but it's got its place. I sure wish Peter Frampton would come out with something new."

"Why did you just say that?"

"What's your problem, son?" Barry was getting a little worried.

"Why did you just say you wished Peter Frampton would come out with something new?" screamed Nick.

"You on drugs, boy? Because if you are, you got no business in here."

Nick settled down. "No sir, I'm not on drugs. I'm just curious why a man of your age..."

"Watch it, boy."

"I mean, a man of your generation and taste in music, would want to know when Peter Frampton would come out with something new."

"Do You Feel Like We Do," said Barry, mentioning the famous Frampton song.

"I'm feeling a little strange, myself. I don't know how you're feeling. Is this another one of those trick questions?" Nick asked.

"That wasn't a question, son. That was the song from Frampton Comes Alive. It had that jazzy part the second half of the song. I thought it was a high time for rock and roll - the fusion of free-form jazz and melodic rock. I remember that song so well. Folks like Steely Dan, Traffic and Chicago did it better, but that song really stuck with me. It was the last time I heard good fusion rock & roll. Disco came along right after that and screwed up everything."

"I couldn't agree with you more," said Nick. "Its just that Peter Frampton's name has been showing up in my life a lot lately. I'm sorry for freaking out on you. You're an accomplished musician and deserve more respect than that."

"You know, boy, you're all right. Tell me this, what happened to Mr. Levon?"

"Well, he was let go just yesterday. Some big company is buying us out and I guess they didn't have a place for him."

"That's a shame," said Barry. "He's a good man. He treated me right."

"So why did you leave Apocalypse?" asked Nick.

"I got greedy. Atlantic offered me more money than Mr. Levon could. He understood. He never held a grudge. He's a good man."

"You're right about that."

"Hey, what did you say your last name was?"

"Peltier," said Nick.

"That name sounds familiar. I just can't think of it right off why."

"Well, this might be a shot in the dark, but my dad played jazz here in the late fifties."

Barry started thinking. "I'm sorry, son. I can't think of nothing right off now. The late fifties was a long time ago."

"No problem," said Nick. He never had in interest in learning anything about his dad. He knew the story of how he was abandoned as soon as he was born. He didn't care to know what became of...

"Fast Phil," exclaimed Barry.

"What?"

"Fast Phil Peltier. A drummer, right?" Barry started to remember.

"From what I've heard."

"And a damn fine one at that. I thought your face looked familiar. I jammed with him one night. He had a band from down south somewhere."

"Louisiana?"

"Yeah, that's it. They had a cool sound. Nothing like I ever heard around here." Barry remembered the style of the band – jazz and zydeco. He never heard that style before or since.

Nick took a sudden interest. "So, you knew my father?"

"Sure did, son," said Barry. "He had that crazy Cajun accent and played the hell out of the skins. What is he up to these days?"

"I wouldn't know. I never met him."

"You mean, you never met your old man at all?"

"That's right. He took off right after I was born."

"I'm sorry, boy. That must have torn your mother to shreds."

Nick got solemn for a few seconds. "I never met her either. She died right after I was born."

Barry downed the rest of his drink and shook his head. "Damn, that's a horrible story. Why in the hell did Fast Phil leave you after something like that?"

"I guess he never wanted me. He lost my mom and didn't want anything to do with me."

"Man, that's really a tough one. Your dad was a typical musician, you know, kind of wild and carefree. Your mother was a beautiful woman. I remember her coming to the club before your dad met her."

"You knew my mom?"

"Well, I wouldn't say I knew her. I would see her with her boyfriend every weekend at the club. He was a jealous man – wouldn't let anybody near her."

"How did my dad get her?"

"Well, if memory serves me correct, your old man sat down during a break next to your mother. I think her name was Louise, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, anyway, her boyfriend had gone to get her a drink and ended up talking to some buddies at the bar. It gave Fast Phil time to work his mojo on Louise. He stole her heart right then and there. The boyfriend, I don't remember his name, came back after an hour or so, and saw the two of them there. He and Fast Phil got into it and decided to take it outside. About five minutes later, Fast came back into the club, a little roughed up, but okay. I never saw the other guy again. It's a shame, though. He played guitar and jammed at the club from time to time. Can't remember his name, damn it. I do remember that night, though. I had just got a new camera and was taking pictures of everybody at the club."

"Did my parents seem happy together?"

"Oh, hell yeah. They spent a lot of time in here. They looked like love personified. I never heard from Fast after they moved."

"It's strange to hear somebody talking about my folks. My grandmother never liked to talk much about them."

"Son, it's important to know your roots. You white folks make fun of us putting so much emphasis on knowing our heritage. But, damn it, it's important to know how you got where you are. It lets you know about yourself. You can take the good from it and build on it, and you can take the bad, understand it, then try to get rid of it."

"Do you think my father had any kind of dealings with..."

"The mob?"

"No, the occult."

"Oh, the dark side."

"Yeah."

"I don't know about that. Why you want to know?"

"I'm just curious. I have this sense that the Devil..."

"Don't you be talking that damn nonsense about the Devil," Barry was quick to say.

"He seems to be following me, though. Everywhere I go lately, there seems to be a sign of him being around. You just said it was important to know my roots. I just wanted to know if my father might have dabbled in some kind of black magic or something like that."

"You know, he did use some kind of mojo to get your mom, but I don't think it was that evil crap you call black magic. And why in the hell do they call it black magic if it's bad. We're always taking the rap."

"I'm just curious."

"Yeah, I know. Tell you what, son. It's getting a little late. Here's my card. Why don't you meet me at my studio tomorrow afternoon? I got this obsession with taking pictures. See those photos behind the bar? I've been taking them of this place for about forty years. They don't always stay up there. The owners let the people in the photos take them for themselves. I probably took a lot of shots of people I really no business taking. I think I might have some old photos of your mom and dad you might want to see." Barry had taken a strong liking to Nick. He was thinking that maybe his daughter was on to something about Nick searching for something more than just a rock drummer.

"That would be great. Thank you, Mr. Washington."

"That's Barry to you, son. See you tomorrow afternoon."

Nick stayed to hear the end of the set. He talked to the band members at the break. It felt good to talk with musicians who did it for the love of the art. He stayed to hear the last set. The crowd had thinned out, but there was one woman, sitting alone at a table near the stage. She was an exotic beauty. She had long, wavy, jet-black hair. She had a light olive complexion, which glowed under the reflection of the stage lights. She looked quite a few years older than Nick, but he didn't mind. Nick walked up to her.

"Hi, is this seat taken?"

The lady looked at Nick, smiled, and said, "No but I think it would like to be."

Nick smiled back at the exquisite beauty and sat down next to her. "This is a great band," he said.

"Why yes, it is."

"Do you like jazz?"

"I love any music that makes me feel sexy."

"And how do you feel right now?"

She smiled and placed her hand on Nick's arm. She rubbed it in a seductive manner. She softly slid it down, using only her fingertips. She went back up using the back of her blood-red nails.

"Right now, I feel – extremely sexy."

"Wow, you sure aren't shy."

"Life is much too short to be shy. I always go get what I want, but sometimes – I get lucky and it comes to me." She gave Nick a wink.

"I seem to detect an accent," said Nick.

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah, I think it's sexy."

"I like being sexy. Would you like to know why?"

"Of course."

"Because I like sex," said the woman, with a serious, seductive smile.

"What a coincidence. I like it, too," Nick said, with a goofy, drooling smile. The hand that was rubbing Nick's arm slid up to his face. She rubbed his cheeks with the touch of a velvet scarf.

"I like the feel of a man's face. It's rough, yet gentle." She pulled Nick's face closer to hers. "How do you like the feel of a woman's face?" she grabbed Nick's hand and put it on her face. Nick's hand was trembling. Her skin was the smoothest he had ever felt in his life.

"My, God, you are a beautiful woman."

"And you are quite a sexy man." Nick had never been called sexy before. He also had never been with a mature woman, either. This was new territory for him. He had to survey the situation.

"Are you here by yourself tonight?" he asked.

"Do you see anyone else around?"

"You could be with one of the band members."

"But, I am not."

"You could be the bartender's girlfriend."

"Wrong again."

"You could be married."

"So what if I was?"

"I don't like the sound of that one." Nick had never slept with a married woman, as far as he knew. Right now, however, even his lowest morals were negotiable.

"Let me just say this – if I was married, my husband is not here," she purred.

"Where is he?"

"If there was a he to be somewhere, he would be back home, far away from here."

"Just how much is far away?"

"Thousands of miles."

"How many thousands?" Nick was gaining confidence. He hated the thought of confronting a jealous husband.

"If I were not so sure you were trying to pick me up, I'd swear you were an officer of the law with all this silly questions," said the lady, as her right hand now started to caress his upper thigh.

"So, you think I'm trying to pick you up?" His jeans were getting awfully uncomfortable.

"Of course not."

"But you just said you were sure I was trying to pick you up."

"Silly boy. I'm just toying with you." She started running her fingers through Nick's messy hair with her left hand.

"So, you'd like to be picked up?" He was confused. One hand was inches away from his erection and the other was treating him like a little puppy.

"That depends on what you mean by picked up."

"What do you want it to mean?"

"For an American man, you are pretty good at this game."

"So, this is a game?"

"I don't play games." She stopped playing with the hair and put both hands in the back of Nick's neck. She locked her fingers together and started a slow-motion row as if they were shiatsu massage. The intoxicating smell of her perfume was not of this earth.

"You are a confusing woman," said Nick, trying to stifle a moan from the intense pleasure he was experiencing.

"No, you are just an unperceptive man."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Whatever you want it to mean." She unlocked her fingers and slid them down Nick's back. Her fingertips slid just under the waistband of his jockey shorts.

"I don't want to mean what it means," Nick said.

"Do you know what it means?" she whispered.

"I guess it means that I'm not picking up on something I should be, right?"

"You are very perceptive." She pulled him closer.

"Thank you. Now would you like me to pick you up?" Nick cringed after saying those words. It sounded so juvenile.

"No," she said, pulling back.

"No?" Nick was now beyond confused.

"I would like you to..."

As she leaned forward and whispered into his ear, Nick's jaw sunk to the ground. She used words and phrases he had never heard before. His eyes got wider with each syllable that poured past her sensual lips. This was a sophisticated woman who knew what she wanted. He was used to young, carefree women who just wanted to have fun. This woman seemed to want – well, she seemed to want to have fun too, but her definition of fun was more extreme.

"Would you like to go somewhere we can be alone?" asked Nick. The nervous sweat was cooling his hot body.

"Now you are being very perceptive. I would love to." She gave him a soft, suggestive kiss on his quivering lips.

"I'm staying at the Hilton Chicago and Towers," he said, with his trembling voice.

"Oh, no. I've got the State Suite at the Ritz-Carlton. We'll go there."

The lady grabbed Nick's arm as he escorted her out the club. He leaned into the street and held out his hand for a taxi.

The lady was quick to pull Nick's arm down. "Don't be absurd." She held her hand up and a black stretch limousine pulled up to them. The driver came out and opened the door for both of them. "I'm ready to go, now," she told the driver. Once inside, she opened the chilled bottle of champagne nestled in the ice. Nick took her lead and grabbed two glasses. She poured the bubbly and said, "Here's to an interesting evening." They nuzzled and kissed all the way to the hotel. The driver turned on North Michigan Avenue and pulled up to the Ritz-Carlton. Nick was a little uncomfortable being dressed the way he was. He was wearing jeans with a Rollins University sweatshirt. He couldn't believe he was about to have sex with such a classy lady. His mind was on neither Jamie nor Andie. He just wanted to get laid.

The doorman gave Nick a smile as they walked by. As they passed the front desk, the clerk smiled and said, "Your suite is prepared, Ms..."

"Stop right there," she said. "I don't want to cause a scene here."

"You must be famous," said Nick.

"No, not really. I just prefer to be discreet."

"Oh yeah, I understand." He really didn't but he couldn't care less at the moment.

They reached the State Suite and entered. Nick couldn't believe it. It was a two-story suite with a spiral staircase in the middle. It had a breathtaking view of the lake.

"Make yourself at home. I'll be right back," said the lady. Nick watched her as she slithered up the stairs. The slit in her ankle-length dress ran all the up to top of her thighs. She was wearing a sexy pair of boots, which came to just below her knees. He waited a few minutes then heard her call for him.

"Why don't you come up here, darling?" Nick climbed the staircase with a sense of excitement. He walked into the bedroom and saw her lying there in a silk negligee. It barely covered her glowing body. Dozens of candles were lit all over, creating a setting that was just right for a night of wild, exotic lovemaking. He didn't stop to think how she could have lit them all in such a short time.

"Take off those silly clothes and come here," she ordered. Nick had no trouble taking off his shirt, but his jeans were another story. "What seems to be the problem?" asked the lady.

"The damn zipper is stuck," said an embarrassed Nick, as he kept trying to unzip them.

"Would you like me to help?"

"Oh, no. Trust me, you wouldn't be able to help." The pressure against his zipper was immeasurable. He had never been this excited before. The zipper had no room to move.

"What do you need?" asked the concerned woman.

"I think I might need some kind of pliers," said Nick. At this point, he would accept anything that would release the cause of extreme pain.

"No problem." She turned to pick up the phone to call the front desk. "Hello, this is Lucille Fernelli in the State Suite. I need some kind of, I'm sorry, darling, what do you call those things?"

As she turned to look at Nick, all she saw was the candles flickering in the breeze, followed by the sound of footsteps sprinting down the stairs, then the slam of the front door.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: _You Talking to Me?_

Harold Rogers earned his law degree at Princeton. He was let go from two previous law firms because of possible sexual harassment suits. With that black cloud hanging over his head, he made his living by free-lancing his services. He learned that most firms had dealings that required discrete outside help. This became his specialty. Helping Peter Grimes was his latest venture. The payoff agreement was lucrative and the chance to get in bed with the sexy Andie made it even more rewarding.

Jamie was in her new office bright and early the next morning. Her secretary buzzed her and said, "Ms. O'Malley, there's a Harold Rogers to see you."

"Send him in," said Jamie.

Harold entered the office with a sense of arrogance. "So we meet again, Ms. O'Malley," as he held out his hand.

"We've never met in the first place," said Jamie, as she shook his hand.

"You had lunch right next to us yesterday."

"Oh, really? Well, even if we did, we didn't actually meet."

"Okay, let me start over. Hi, I'm Harold Rogers with Wainwright and Grimes."

"I already know who you are," said an unmoved Jamie.

"Oh, so my reputation precedes me."

"Not really. My secretary told me you were outside."

"You don't seem too impressed." Harold knew it was time to amp up his charm.

"Should I be?" asked Jamie.

"Well, you see, Ms. O'Malley – that is so formal. May I call you Jamie?"

"No," she stated.

"Okay, Ms. O'Malley. Wainwright and Grimes is one of the top law firms in the country. We're representing the new company."

"I get the feeling I'm supposed to be impressed."

"You should feel proud to know that your company is putting out the resources to get the best in the business when it comes to commercial acquisitions."

"And just what company are you representing?"

"Why, yours, of course."

"We have our own team of cracker-jack attorneys. The buyout has already been completed. I really don't know what business you have here, Mr. Rogers."

"Wait a second. Just what company are you working for?"

"Apocalypse Records," said Jamie.

"No, I mean who owns Apocalypse Records now?" asked Harold.

"Isn't it the same company that hired you?"

"Apparently not. I've been working on the transaction and wasn't aware of any other players in the game."

"Well, Mr. Rogers. I don't think I am at liberty to tell you until you tell me. Who hired you?"

"I'm pretty sure it's not the same company who hired you."

"Probably not."

Benny ran into the office, bypassing the secretary. "I got her."

Jamie knew whom he was talking about. "That's great, Benny, but don't you believe in knocking?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." He looked at Harold. "Hey, you're Harold Rogers. We just met yesterday at lunch. What brings you here?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," said Harold.

"Mr. Rogers, Benny has found a replacement drummer for The Cramping Violets and booked Julie Templeton to work on their music video."

"The BreastMaster girl?" asked Harold. He was no stranger to the sexy exercise apparatus and its seductive spokesperson.

"The one and only," boasted Benny.

"Wow, you guys are on the ball here," said Harold. " I'm sure this is just some kind of miscommunication. I'll talk to my boss and find out what's going on. Nice seeing you again, Benny. I'll keep in touch, Ms. O'Malley." He left without causing a disturbance. There is no way some other group got this deal before us, he thought. She must be working for us and Peter put her there temporarily to throw the police off our trail.

"What was that all about?" asked Benny.

"Oh, it's nothing for you to be concerned about. Things are going exactly to plan."

Andie was getting ready to meet her new client, Carlos Verona. She had a blistering hangover and didn't know what happened the night before. All she knew was she woke up wearing her red bra and panties. She usually slept naked. She didn't know what she would do when she faced Harold later. She called Debbie's office to talk.

"This is Harold, uh, damn it, I forgot his name, oh yeah, here it is, Rogers' office," said Debbie.

"Deb, it's me," said Andie. "What's wrong? You sound terrible."

"I'm hung over."

"I know the feeling." This was not a feeling she had experienced often.

"What's up?" asked Debbie.

"Well, Harold and I kind of got..."

"You got some?"

"No, well at least I don't think I did. I got so drunk last night. I don't remember what happened."

"You sound like Nick." There was a hesitation.

"Oh, my God, Debbie. You're right. That sounds exactly like something Nick would do. How do I face Harold this morning?"

"I'm not the person to ask for any advice concerning men, today," said Debbie.

"I'm sorry, Debbie. I almost forgot. Did you hear from Tony yet?"

"That slimy bastard tried to come over last night, but I had his ass taken away."

"Police?"

"Apartment security."

"Don't you think you're being a little hard on him? Why don't you give him a chance to explain?"

"Hey, you were there. You saw him with that tramp. He was avoiding me then I see him with that - oh, wait a second. I got a call." Debbie put Andie on hold.

"Good morning, this is that Harold guy's office, what do you want?"

"Is that any way to answer a phone?" said Harold, who was calling from his car phone.

"Look, Harold, I'm going through a rough time and I don't need you giving me any shit," said Debbie.

"You and I need to have a little talk," said Harold. "In the meantime, I need you to bring all the Verona files to Mr. Grimes's office. I have a meeting with him this morning."

"You expect me to bring all those boxes to Grimes's office by myself?"

"Well, that's what you're getting paid for, isn't it?"

"You don't have to be so sarcastic. I'll get as many as I can." She hung up and took Andie off hold. "That was your _boyfriend_."

"Really?" asked Andie. "How did he sound?"

"He sounded kind of bitchy. You know what? I think he's an asshole. I'm sorry I fixed you two up."

"Don't be ridiculous, Debbie," said Andie. "You're just down on men this morning because of what happened to you with Tony."

"It's going to be a long time before I go down on any man," replied Debbie.

"There's my phone, now, Debbie. I need to get that. I'll talk to you in a bit." Andie hung up with Debbie and picked up the call.

"Good morning, this is Andrea Jenson."

"I hope you're wearing your best slutty dress this morning."

"Excuse me?" said Andie. She recognized Ms. Vanderhousen's condescending voice.

"You've got a meeting with Mr. Grimes and Mr. Verona in five minutes. The old Italian likes the short dresses as much as Mr. Grimes does, so do yourself a favor – wear the shortest one you have."

"It's none of your business what kind of dress..."

"Save it, Jenson. I know you probably don't have any real legal skills, so you might as well play what you've got." Ursula was in rare form. "Just be here in five minutes." She hung up on Andie.

"I can't believe that woman," said Andie. She got up from her desk and checked herself out on the wall mirror. She was wearing a conservative, knee-length dress. Her long brunette hair was in place and her make-up was on just right. She put aside the thought of being like Nick. She was ready to meet Carlos Verona.

"Is she easy on the eyes?" asked Carlos.

"Oh, yes, sir," said Peter Grimes, as he walked towards Carlos, who was gazing at the sight of New Lake City, a panoramic view from Peter's office. "She is definitely a sight for sore eyes."

"Are you implying that my eyes are sore?"

"Oh, no sir. That's just an expression. I mean..."

"Of course, I know what you mean," said Carlos. "You think I just got off the immigration boat yesterday?"

"No, sir. I didn't think that at all."

"Well, you should have. I got five cousins off the boat from Italy yesterday. I want you to arrange visas for them." Carlos was wearing a gray fedora and a pinstripe suit. He had an ivory cane to help support his small, but overweight frame. He had an intimidating aura about him. He had solid black hair, obviously touched-up, considering his advanced age. His skin tone was almost grey. Looking at him was like gazing at an old black and white movie. He spoke with a graveled and muffled tone. "Where are these attorneys you spoke so highly about?"

The buzzer sounded. "That must be one of them now," said Peter. He pressed the button. "Yes, Ms. Vanderhousen."

"Ms. Jenson is here, sir."

"Well, send her in, immediately."

"Yes, sir. I'll send her right in." Ms. Vanderhousen put the receiver down and told Andie, "He'll be with you in about ten minutes."

"Oh, no," said Andie. "We're not going through that again. You just told Mr. Grimes I would be right in."

"Look, girlie, I know what I said and I know what my boss wants."

"Why are you such a mean woman?" asked Andie.

"I have my reasons."

"I bet it's because you've been divorced three times, isn't it?"

"How did you know about that?" asked a surprised Ursula.

"Everybody in the company knows about it. You're a legend."

"Well, at least I got every one of my husbands the respectable way. I didn't have to go showing off my legs and breasts like all you young women today to get their men."

Andie put both her hands on the desk and leaned towards Ms. Vanderhousen.

"You are a bitter woman, Ms. Vanderhousen," she said. "I don't care how you got all three of your previous husbands. I would just like to do my job to the best of my ability. I don't need to show off my body. I am a good – let me rephrase – an excellent attorney. I made it this far on my own merits. Mr. Grimes wants me in his office, right now, to do the job I was assigned to do. I would be so appreciative if you would kindly let me into that office."

At that moment, Debbie came through the outer office, pushing a handcart full of boxes. She set them down right in front of Ms. Vanderhousen's desk.

"Harold Rogers said Mr. Grimes needed these files. This is only a third of them. I'm not hauling the rest of them up here. Don't we have some guys here that do this sort of thing?" said Debbie. This was not the sweet, innocent Debbie that Andie knew. She was transforming into something darker.

"May I help you?" said a sarcastic Ms. Vanderhousen, as she gave Debbie a dirty glare.

Debbie looked at Andie. "You were right. She is a mean-spirited bitch."

"I beg your pardon," said an insulted Ursula.

"Honey, with an attitude like that, I'm sure that's not the only thing you beg for. Now, where do you want all this crap?" Andie couldn't believe what she was seeing. Debbie was without make-up, and was wearing a wrinkled shirt hanging out over a pair of pair of khaki cargo pants. She also sounded like a woman possessed.

"Debbie, are you okay?" asked Andie.

"She obviously is not," said Ursula. "Young lady, do you realize who I am?"

"Sure I do. You're the old battle-axe who keeps watch over your precious Mr. Grimes. Now, like I just asked you, where the hell do you want this crap?"

"You are not going to get away with talking to me like that." Ursula buzzed Mr. Grimes. "Sir, we've got a rude..."

"Ah, screw you, bitch," said Debbie, as she let herself into Mr. Grimes' office with the handcart. The heavy oak door flung open like cardboard as she rammed the cart into the office with the force of a battering ram. Peter and Carlos both jumped with surprise at the grand entrance they just witnessed.

"Excuse me, but who are you?" asked Peter.

"I'm Harold's slave woman," said Debbie. "Here are some of the files he demanded I bring up here. I'm tired. If you want the rest of them, you can get them yourselves." She turned around to leave but stopped. She looked at Carlos' cane. "Is that real ivory?"

"Why yes, it is," said Carlos.

"Do you know how many elephants are slaughtered every day just so arrogant assholes like you can have canes?"

"Excuse me," said Peter. "Do you realize who you're talking to?"

"Why does everybody ask me if I realize who I'm talking to. Of course I do. I'm not crazy. You can all go to hell. I'm going to take an early lunch." She walked out of the office, leaving the door open. "Good luck in there," she told Andie, as she passed her by.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Verona," said an apologetic Peter.

"I like her," said Carlos. "She's got spunk." He saw Andie settled near the doorway. "Well, is she going to come in or not?"

"Andie, come on in," said Peter. "Why are you just standing there?"

"I'm sorry," she said, as she walked in past Ursula's desk. "Your secretary wouldn't let me in."

"Oh, that Ms. Vanderhousen is such a kidder. Come here. I want you to meet Mr. Carlos Verona." Carlos took off his fedora as he grabbed Andie's hand and kissed it.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Ms. Jenson," he said.

"Likewise, sir," said Andie.

"Andie, here, is going to be handling the case involving Little Italy," said Peter.

"I didn't kill anybody. It wasn't food poisoning. Everybody's trying to paint a bad picture of me. I ain't no bad man," said Carlos. He sounded as if he were reading from a teleprompter. His argument didn't sound sincere.

"I'm sure that's true," said Andie. "My job is to prove it in court."

Carlos turned to Peter. "She's a pretty lady. I don't like the way she's dressed, though. It's too conservative. I don't think she can handle this case."

"Excuse me, sir," said Andie. "I don't mean to be rude, but what does my dress have to do with my ability to handle this case?"

"You got a lot of gutsy women working for you, Grimes. I like that."

"What Mr. Verona means is that he would prefer his attorney, in this particular case, to wear something that would be more suitable in Judge Jacobson's court," explained Peter. Andie had heard of Judge Jacobson. He had a reputation of liking female attorneys wearing short dresses in his courtroom. They all had a one hundred percent success rate.

"Oh, I understand. I'm a little insulted, but..."

"No, don't take it as an insult," said Peter. "I still think you are the best candidate to handle this case, no matter how great your legs are."

"I think she's probably got nice legs," said Carlos. "It's hard to tell in that dress." Andie was holding back the tears. She thought she was picked for her ability, but it was an obvious discovery she was wrong. She did have the sense to realize how important Carlos was to the firm, so she held back.

"Okay, I'll dress any way you want me to. I will, however, handle this case with dignity, and we will win on our own merits."

"And a nice set of legs," said Carlos. He couldn't take his creepy eyes off Andie's trembling legs. He lowered is mirror-coated sunglasses and stared even harder. Harold walked into the outer office.

"Good morning, Ms. Vanderhousen. Mr. Grimes is expecting me."

Ursula's face cracked as she smiled at Harold. "Good morning to you, too, Harold. Go right on in." She wasn't immune to his charm. Andie's face was red with rage, but turned to embarrassment as Harold walked in.

"Good morning, everyone," said Harold. "I see we're all here." He shook hands with Peter and Carlos. He nodded to Andie, "Nice to see you again, Ms. Jenson."

"Andie was just leaving," said Peter. "Go work on that case, Andie. Mr. Verona, Harold, and I have a little matter to discuss in private. We'll all have lunch about noon. Carlos has asked us to be his guests at Little Italy. See you there."

Carlos grabbed Andie's hand as she was walking out. "I am looking forward to working with you, Ms. Jenson."

Andie gave him a half smile and left the office. She didn't look at Ms. Vanderhousen on the way out.

"Hope you have a lot of short dresses, missy," said Ursula. "This could be a long trial."

Andie stopped for a second. She wanted to turn around and flip Ursula the finger. She took a deep breath, kept marching away and didn't look back.

"What's the deal with this O'Malley woman?" asked Peter.

"I'm not sure, but she's going through with the plan faster than I expected," said Harold, as he gave Peter a knowing wink.

"I don't know what kind of plan you boys got," said Carlos, "but as long as you know who this O'Malley woman works for, I got no problems with that. This record company deal is your baby."

"She works for us, of course," said Peter. "My holding company put her in charge while the transactions were taking place. She's an expert at taking over company operations without revealing who is behind the actual transactions. My people hired her. I just haven't met her personally."

"She hired Julie Templeton to do a music video," said Harold.

"The BreastMaster girl?" asked Carlos. "You guys are on the ball. Keep up the good work. I'll see you all at my restaurant in about an hour." He walked out the door, tipping his hat at Ms. Vanderhousen as he walked past her.

"You still don't know whom O'Malley works for?" asked Peter.

"Not a clue," said Harold, as he winked at Peter again.

"Why do you keep winking at me?"

"I just like the way you're handling this whole deal. You're impressive. I'm going to learn a lot from working with you."

"Thank you," said Peter. This guy is a major butt kisser, he thought.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: _Genuine Blues_

Gerome Elderberry was infuriated at having to spend the night incarcerated in a dirty Chicago Jail.

"When in the goddamn hell will I get my phone call?" he kept screaming. A silver-haired gentleman came up to the jail cell.

"I'm Captain Richards. We contacted your Chief Bushman in New Lake City this morning. He said you had no business being here."

"Of course I have business here. I'm tracking a murderer."

"Well, Chief Bushman told me no murder was committed. The lab reports show the death was accidental."

"Accidental, my happy ass," screamed Elderberry. "When can I talk to him?"

"I'll let you call him right now," said Captain Richards. He opened the cell and lead Elderberry to his office. "You have to call collect. We're on a tight budget."

"The only thing that's tight here is your ass," said Gerome. He dialed the New Lake City Police Department's direct line, using operator assistance.

"Sergeant Wilcox here."

"You have a collect call from Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry. Will you accept the charges?" said the operator.

Wilcox started laughing. "No way."

"Goddamn it, Wilcox. What the hell are you..."

"I'm sorry, sir. No one will accept the charges." The operator hung up.

"Goddamn it!" hollered Elderberry. "I thought that asshole quit."

"That was your one call, Elderberry," explained Captain Richards.

"I didn't even get connected. Give me a goddamn break."

"Okay," said Richards. "You can use the phone again. You have to use your calling card."

"It's in my wallet, which you graciously confiscated," said Elderberry. Richards was having a good time with Elderberry. He was an old friend of Chief Bushman. Bushman had told him to give Elderberry a rough time.

"Well, I guess you're shit out of luck," laughed Richards.

"I know my rights. You owe me that call. I'm not leaving this office until I get my call."

"Okay, settle down. Go ahead and call. Just dial direct."

"That's more like it," said Gerome. He called the direct line again.

"Sergeant Wilcox here." Elderberry disguised his voice.

"Yes, I would like to speak with Chief Bushman, please."

"May I ask who's calling?"

"This is Doctor Rosenberg from the Center of Disease Control. I have his test results."

"Hold on a second." Wilcox put Elderberry on hold and found Chief Bushman.

"Chief, I think you need to get line two - some kind of prank call." Bushman knew who was on the end of the line before he picked it up.

"Chief Bushman, here" he said.

"Don't hang up, chief," screamed Elderberry. "I need to talk to you."

"Elderberry – what in the hell are you still doing in Chicago?" He tried to act surprised.

"I'm tracking down Nicholas Pel-tire."

"I told Captain Richards to send your butt back here."

"He's not cooperating very well."

Bushman put his hand over the receiver and started laughing. He got back on the line after his chuckles subsided. "Well, the lab reports came back. Zipper Down died of an apparent choking. There was a piece of pizza lodged in his throat."

"Pizza?" asked Gerome.

"Yeah, so we're closing the case. No unusual amounts of drugs were found in his system. No murder or suicide - it was just an accidental choking."

"Where is the pizza box I turned in?"

"Wilcox took care of all the evidence. Everything checked out. No murder, no case."

"I thought Wilcox quit."

"Well, you left town so I didn't accept his resignation. I needed someone with experience working homicide."

"Something's not right, chief. I need to question Pel-tire."

"Okay, Elderberry. I'll humor you for a while and keep the case open a few more days."

"Thank you, sir."

"Put Captain Richards on the line." Elderberry handed the phone to Richards.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Keep that asshole locked up a couple more days, if you don't mind. That'll teach him a lesson not to take off on a wild goose chase without my permission."

"Sure thing, Sam – no problem. Talk to you later."

"Well, can I go now?" asked Gerome.

"Of course you can go – right back to your cell."

"What?"

"Your chief wants me to keep you a few more days. He's enjoying the peace and quiet," Richards said, with a smile.

"You can't keep me here. You have no goddamn grounds."

"Disobeying an officer of the law's orders? That'll keep you here a couple more days."

"This is a goddamn outrage."

"I'll just add obstruction of justice to the charges," said Captain Richards, as he escorted Elderberry back to his cell.

Gerome started talking to himself, since no one was listening to him.

"Why is Chief Bushman trying to keep me here? There's got to be some explanation for this. I'm the best homicide detective New Lake City has ever seen. Sergeant Wilcox is just a panty waste waiting for his retirement. Somebody is trying to keep me from getting to Pel-tire."

Nick got into a cab around noon. He had had to drink himself to sleep the night before. He brushed his teeth for ten minutes before he started drinking. He was trying to obliterate the feeling of Lucille's lips on his. After rinsing his mouth out with Everclear, he decided to just drink it instead. He almost slept with Satan, or so he thought.

"Where can I take you, Nick?" asked the cabbie.

Nick handed him the card with the address.

"How did you know my name?" asked Nick.

"How rude of me. My name's Bart. I know exactly where this place is. Just enjoy the ride."

Nick decided not to question him. The cab driver took Nick to the address on Division Street where Barry Washington had his little recording studio set up. There was a view of Lake Michigan from the front door, which Nick noticed as he walked in.

"Nick, my man, come on in," said Barry. "Any trouble finding the place?"

"No. The cab driver knew exactly where to bring me," said Nick, as he shook Barry's hand.

"You want some pizza? Got some genuine Chicago deep dish right here."

"No, thanks man. I don't have much of an appetite right now."

"Well, grab a piece later if you want. I got a surprise for you." Barry was excited. He knew he had found something Nick would enjoy.

Nick was curious. "What is it?"

"I was digging in the attic and found some old pictures you might want to look at." He handed Nick one of them.

"Is that my father?" asked Nick. The picture was a little fuzzy but he could see some resemblance

"Sure is," said Barry. "That was taken the night he met your mom. Take a look at this one."

Nick grabbed the picture. "Is that my mother?" The picture showed a full-length image of a sexy woman dancing near a bar. He couldn't make out the face.

"Sure is. Does she look like the other pictures you seen of her?" asked Barry.

"I don't know. I've never even seen a picture of her. My Grandma said she didn't have any."

Grandma Peltier sheltered Nick from any connection to his parent's life. She didn't like the way her two sons turned out and she wanted a fresh start with Nick.

"Damn shame, son. A man that never met his own mama and doesn't even know what she looked like. Here, take a look at this one."

Nick looked at the next picture. It was a close-up of Fast Phil, Louise, and another man. It was a detailed photo of his parents. She had beautiful eyes and long, flowing blond hair. His father had the same goofy expression that Nick always had when he came close to a beautiful lady.

"My, God. My mother was gorgeous," said Nick.

"Damn straight, she was," said Barry.

"And my father was a good looking as I am now," Nick joked. He chuckled to hide the pain he was feeling of seeing his parents for the first time. They looked happy in the photo. He knew it was the night they met, but he could see something in their eyes as they were leaning against each other, cheek to cheek. He wondered what it would have been like if he was raised by them instead of Marie. His eyes drifted to the gentleman sitting next to them. The man seemed furious.

"Who's that man sitting next to them?" Nick asked.

"That was your mother's boyfriend. I think his name was Bill or something like that. He was a guitar player for a band that played in the club every now and then. I remember taking this picture right before the fight started. Never saw him after that night. I never liked the guy. He was a lawyer by day and an average musician by night. He was kind of a butthole. I put a copy of this picture behind the bar to piss him off. It ain't there no more. Guess he took it."

"He looks kind of familiar," said Nick.

"Tell you what, son. Why don't you let me make you some copies of these pictures that you can keep? After that, we're going back there and do some serious jamming. It looks like you could use it." The front door opened and in walked a bunch of older looking black men.

"Sammy, Jimmy, Rollo, come on in," said Barry. "This young white boy's gonna jam with us today."

"You know anything 'bout the blues, boy?" asked Sammy, a veteran of the Chicago blues scene for fifty years.

"I'm thirty-five years old, my mother died when I was born. My father left me right then. I just saw a picture of them for the first time two minutes ago. The woman I've been carrying a torch for the last seventeen years is a lesbian, and I almost got laid by Satan herself less than twelve hours ago," said Nick.

"Damn, that boy is the blues," said Sammy. "Come jam with us. I'm sure you could use it. Satan herself? The boy thinks the Devil is a woman."

"Sammy, you remember back in the late fifties, this jazz combo from Louisiana gigging at the club? You know, some crazy Zydeco jazz mix."

"Yeah, think so, maybe," said Sammy. "What about 'em?"

"You remember that crazy drummer?"

"Oh yeah, Fast Phil, I think his name was. He got in that big ol' fight over some woman."

"Well, this young man is Phil and that woman's son," said Barry.

Sammy was surprised. "You say she died when you were born?"

"Yeah."

"Damn shame. That was a fine looking woman. No disrespect, you hear, but your daddy didn't deserve somebody that nice."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Nick.

"Now don't get me wrong. I'm sure he loved her and all that, but he stole her from a man right under his nose. I don't like seeing that happen."

"That's only because it happened to you too, you ol' bastard," said Barry.

"Still don't make it right, you big mouth buzzard," snapped Sammy.

"Don't worry about it, guys," said Nick. "Let's just go back there and jam." He was a bit overwhelmed from this new information about his parents. Nick found an old Les Paul Custom Deluxe sitting in the corner of the studio. He picked it up, tuned it, and then started jamming with the best musicians he had ever played with. For the next few hours, he didn't think about Jamie, Andie, Tony, Lucille or his parents. He just played.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: _Little Italy, Big Meal_

Peter and Harold drove to Little Italy in Peter's red Porsche 911 Turbo.

"I hope Andie meets us there," said Peter. "Carlos wouldn't like it if she was a no-show."

"She seems pretty reliable," said Harold. "I'm sure she'll be there."

"It seemed to me like Carlos wasn't too impressed with her. Do you think she's the right one for this case?"

"Well, like we discussed, we need to get other attorneys involved in the Verona files to keep it looking legit. I have all the confidence in the world in Andie."

"You're just trying to get a little on the side, aren't you?"

"Ah, one of the fringe benefits of this job," said a smiling Harold.

"You're a dog," said Peter. "That's what I like about you. Now, you'll have to work on her to play the type of lawyer Carlos wants for this case, you know, make her dress the part."

"That might be a little difficult. She seems pretty headstrong and is into this feminism thing. I'll see what I can do." Harold felt pretty confident. He knew Andie was putty in his hands.

Andie opened the package on her desk. Medical records and a coroner's report put a huge smile on her face. She made another trip into LuAnn's. She bought the sexiest business outfit she could find. The jacket was tight, the dress was short, and the shoes had four-inch heels. She went to Ramone's Hair Boutique. She had her hair styled in sexiest way possible. Her hair covered half of one eye on one side, and the other side was pulled in back of her ear. She hopped in her Camry and headed to Little Italy.

Gina, a beautiful, petite Italian girl, greeted Peter and Harold as the entered the restaurant. "Carlos is waiting for you gentlemen," she said. "Where's the other person in your party?"

"She'll be here shortly," said Peter. "Hopefully."

"Oh, she'll be here," said Harold. "You have nothing to worry about."

"Come this way, sirs. Mr. Verona doesn't like to be kept waiting." She gazed at Harold and gave him a sexy wink.

Carlos was already sipping on his wine as they arrived at the corner table.

"Welcome to my humble establishment," he said. "Where's the girl?"

"She's on her way," said Peter.

"Are you sure about this girl?" asked Carlos. "I don't want her messing up this case."

"You have my word," said Peter. "She'll be fine."

"Well, before she gets here, you boys tell me something. How's it going with Wainwright?" Carlos asked, as he poured wine for the two men.

"Everything is going fantastic," said Peter. "We talked about setting up a plane crash on his way back from South America."

"Africa," Harold corrected.

"Yeah, right, Africa," said Peter.

"It's got to look like an accident. No trace of a body can be found. I want him to continue suffering the same way he made me suffer. That's the plan and I don't want any deviation from it. Are you sure he's miserable now?" asked Carlos.

"We're positive," said Harold.

"Good. I like knowing that," Carlos replied.

"Let me ask you this," said Peter. "After he's officially gone, how would you like it if we called the firm Verona and Grimes?"

"No. You are not to use my name at all. You promised me a low profile. My name is never to be associated with this firm other than being a legitimate client. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," said Peter. "I just thought you would like..."

"I'm not paying you guys to think. I'm paying you to do. Keep the plan like it is. I don't want my name tied with you guys at all. What do you think I am - a gangster?"

"I'm sorry, sir. We'll continue the plan as is," Peter assured Carlos. He was relieved Carlos didn't like his half-hearted suggestion.

"Good. Now where is this Jenson woman?"

"I'm right here," said Andie, as she approached the table. Peter, Harold, and Carlos stared open jawed, as they looked at this transformed woman.

"I'm sorry I'm a little late," said Andie.

Carlos stood up the greet her. "What's the matter with you boys? Didn't your mothers teach you better? Stand up when a lady comes to a table." Peter and Harold followed Carlos' advice. "Have a seat right here, Ms. Jenson," said the suave Carlos. He pulled out the chair for her. Andie sat right next to Carlos. She looked at him and played the seductive role, as she moved her hair from her eye.

"Mr. Verona..."

"Please, call me Carlos."

"If you are to be my client, I would like to keep this on a formal basis, Mr. Verona."

"As you wish, my dear." Peter and Harold were amazed. She had Carlos wrapped around her finger.

"I've reviewed this case thoroughly, Mr. Verona..."

"Would you like some wine?"

"No – thank you. We are at a business lunch. I don't find it professional to be drinking at this time of the day when discussing something as important as a client's future."

"You're right," said Carlos. "Gina, get us some sodas over here."

"Water, with lime, if you don't mind," said Andie.

"And get this beautiful lady some water with lime," said Carlos.

"As I was saying, I've studied this case and have all the information I need. The family of the man that died is trying to sue you for ten million dollars. The claim is food poisoning. I obtained his medical records and found out he had a bad liver. In fact, he had been on a donor list for the past six months. The coroner's report shows extensive liver damage. Since he died less than four hours after eating here, the family thought they could cash in and make a few dollars from his death. No toxins were linked to the food he ate that night. An indictment hearing is to be held tomorrow. I have a meeting with Judge Jacobson this afternoon. I'm positive this case will be thrown out and you will have nothing to worry about." Peter and Harold were speechless as they witnessed Andie taking over. Carlos just sat there with a huge smile on his face.

"Excellent work, my dear," said Carlos. "You boys were right. She definitely is the right person to handle this case."

"Nice going, Andie," said Peter.

"Mr. Grimes, you and I are not an a first name basis. I would prefer if you call me Ms. Jenson."

"Excuse me?" Peter asked.

"You heard the lady," said Carlos. "Treat her with the respect she deserves."

Peter took a sip of wine right before Gina could grab it away from him.

"All right. Nice going, Ms. Jenson," Peter said.

"Thank you, sir. Now gentlemen, I would like to stay here and chat with you, but I have a lot to do before I meet with Judge Jacobson." She took a drink of the water that Gina had just put in front of her. "Mr. Rogers, you and I have some unfinished business we need to take care of. You can meet me tonight at my apartment at eight. Good day, gentlemen." Andie stood up, as did Carlos.

"What's the matter with you guys? When a lady stands up to leave a table, you do the same." Peter and Harold followed Carlos's gesture.

"Good luck with Judge Jacobson this afternoon," said a snarling Peter.

"Oh, it will have nothing to do with luck," said Andie, as she walked to the exit. Before she reached the front door, she noticed a couple sitting at a table away from the window. It was Tony and Kat. She turned her head so they wouldn't recognize her.

"She's a smart cookie. I like her," said Carlos.

"She sure caught on to the liver damage angle quickly," said Harold. Peter added, "Maybe just a little too quick."

"Speaking of liver damage, how is your son," Harold asked Carlos.

"Not too good. He's going to need that transplant soon," said Carlos, as his demeanor made a solemn turn.

"Well, as you can see, we're working on that situation as we speak," said Peter

"I just hope it's not too late. My boy, Frank, means the world to me."

"The list is getting smaller," Peter said.

"You boys better keep making it that way. You know the deal – you give me what I want and I'll make sure you get what you want."

A group of food servers attacked the table with a veritable feast.

"Now, we eat," said Carlos. He raised his glass of wine to propose a toast. "Here's to Frank."

Once again, Peter and Harold followed Carlos's lead. Gina filled Harold's glass with wine. She gave him another seductive smile, followed by a wink and a kissing gesture.

"You think she's pretty?" Carlos asked Harold.

"Very much."

"You single?"

"Uh, yes sir."

"You like girls?"

"Of course I do."

"I just wanted to make sure. Sometimes a pretty boy like you is batting for the other side, if you know what I mean."

"No problem there, sir. I'm as straight as they come."

"Good. You got a girlfriend?"

"Well, actually..."

"No, he doesn't," added Peter.

"Good. I want you to take my Gina out."

"Your Gina?" asked Harold.

"She's my brother's little girl. She don't know nobody decent over here. I want you to take her out. You know, show her a good time."

"I don't know if that's such a good..."

"He'd love to," said Peter. "Wouldn't you, Harold?"

"What about..."

"Wouldn't you, Harold?" Peter said, with a scowl.

"Yeah, I guess I would."

"All right," said Carlos. "Hey, Gina, come over here, sweetheart."

Gina glided towards the table. All eyes in the restaurant, male and female, were fixed on her. She had an alluring walk that made it hard to look away.

"Yes, Uncle Carlos?"

"This here is Harold. He's going to take you out tonight and show you a good time."

She held out her hand to Harold and smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Harold."

Harold grabbed her hand and kissed it ever so elegantly. "The pleasure is all mine."

"You pick her up here at eight tonight," said Carlos. "Here's my credit card. You treat my Gina nice. Just don't spend more than two."

Harold was confused. "You mean two, what, hundred?"

"Don't insult me. You can't show my Gina a good time in this city for two hundred dollars. It's two grand. Don't spend more than that."

"Oh, I'm sure I can show her a good time with that," said Harold.

"And don't get me wrong; she's a beautiful girl. I don't want you having that good of a time, if you know what I mean."

"I have a good idea," Harold said.

"You'll just have to cancel your eight o'clock meeting with Andie," said Peter.

"Oh, I forgot about that for a second," Harold remembered.

"You do what you gotta do," said Carlos. "My Gina here has been in this city for almost two weeks with nothin' to do but hang around here. Boys been comin' in here and starin' at her like she's some kind of piece of meat. I don't like that. You – I like. Ms. Jenson looks like she can handle things herself. You can have your meeting in the morning, or whenever you guys hold meetings."

"No problem, Carlos," said Peter. "I'm sure my boy here won't let you down."

"Good," said Carlos. "It's time to eat. Gina, why don't you sit in that chair next to Harold and eat with us. We have plenty of food." Gina was more than happy to oblige her uncle. They sat at the table and enjoyed a meal fit for a king.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: _Peanut Butter Kisses_

Debbie had taken the afternoon off again. She was getting ready for rehearsal when she got a phone call.

"Hello?" she answered, as pleasant as possible.

"Please, don't hang up," pleaded Tony.

"Eat shit and die," said Debbie, as she slammed down the phone.

Andie's meeting with Judge Jacobson went as planned. The case was thrown out and the judge made a pass at her. She handled the judge with dignity. She was taking a long, hot bath in her apartment when the phone rang.

"Hello?" she answered. "Andie, this is Harold. I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel our, um, appointment this evening."

"Why?" Her voice couldn't hide her obvious disappointment.

"Peter needs me to work late tonight on this case for Carlos. I can't get out of it."

"I'll be up late tonight. You can come over later."

"No, I'll be burning the midnight oil. I have to have some things ready by morning. Maybe tomorrow night?"

"Sure, that'll be fine. Don't work too hard."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow," said Harold.

Andie was frustrated but was still riding high from her meeting with the judge. This gave her something to look forward to for the next night.

Benny was reading the latest issue of Billboard when his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Is this Benny Myers?" said the sexy voice.

"Yes, it is."

"Hi. This is Julie Templeton. I've heard a rumor that you would like for me to work on a video for The Cramping Violets."

"Why, yes," said the excited Benny. "I was expecting a call from your agency."

"Well, I wanted to call you personally. I've heard a lot about this band and I would love to be in their video. My agent doesn't think it would be a good idea, so that's why I'm calling you myself."

"He doesn't know you're calling me?"

"Right, and I would like to keep it that way. He doesn't want me doing anything but BreastMaster commercials right now. I'm ready to try other things."

"I don't know about going around an agent. If you have a contract with him, it's not exactly legal."

"That's why I wanted to talk to you directly. I have an exclusive contract with the BreastMaster people. If I do the video for free, would that take care of any legal hassle?"

Benny was elated. "I'm sure I could arrange something."

"Great. When and where do you want me?"

He thought of about twenty different lines to say right there before saying, "We're going to shoot the video right here in New Lake City. We'd like to start as soon as possible."

"How about tomorrow?"

"That would be great," said the smiling Benny. "I'll call the airlines and arrange a flight for you. Where are you calling from?"

"I'm in L.A. A morning flight would be fine. Let me give you my home phone number and you can call me right back with the details."

"Great," said Benny. This is like a dream, he thought.

The phone rang at the little studio in Chicago

"Hello?" said Barry.

"Are you still there, Daddy?" asked Shanice.

"Yeah, sweetheart. We been jammin' all afternoon."

"Well, it's way past afternoon. You were supposed to be meeting us for dinner tonight."

"I know. I'm sorry, baby. That cracker you sent to see me last night is all right. He's been laying some wicked licks on this old guitar that's been laying around the studio for a while."

"You mean the one you bought for me?"

"Well, you sure as hell ain't using it."

"I know."

"Just like the sax, and the piano, and the..."

"I get the point, daddy. You know I'm happy doing what I do now."

"I know, sweetheart. I just like giving you a hard time."

"Is Nick doing anything tonight?" she asked.

"He's supposed to be looking for a rock drummer. I don't think he's going to find one here."

"Why don't you bring him along? My darling husband is treating us. Meet us at the Toulouse Restaurant. You know where that is?"

"It's that fancy French place on North Lincoln Park, ain't it?"

"You got it. See you both about eight. Love you, Daddy."

"Love you, too, sweetheart." Barry hung up the phone. "Okay, guys. I gotta call it quits now. Nice jam session."

"We still sailing tomorrow?" asked Sammy.

"Damn straight," said Barry. "Just like every Thursday."

"Why don't you bring along our new buddy. I like hangin' out with him," said Sammy.

"You pretty popular for just being in town for one day," said Barry. "Shanice wants me to bring you along with me tonight to have dinner with her and her husband."

Nick was flattered. He hadn't made new friends like this in quite some time. "I'd like to accept both invitations, guys, but I'm here on business. I need to find a rock drummer."

"Where's your next stop?" asked Barry.

"I leave for New Orleans on Friday."

"That's where you'll find your drummer, son. Enjoy Chicago while you got the chance. New Orleans has got lots of crazy crackers who can be your next drummer. You ain't gonna find him here." Barry grabbed his jacket. "Let's go eat, son. We'll both see you tomorrow, Sammy."

The phone rang at Chief Bushman's home in New Lake City.

"Hello?" he said, as he swallowed his mouthful of Jack Daniels.

"Sir, this is Lieutenant Elderberry. Please don't hang up."

"What are you doing calling me at home? And where in the hell are you?"

"I'm still in this ratty Chicago jail. They were kind enough to let me use the phone. What is this business about choking on a piece of pizza?"

"That's just what I said. He choked on a piece of pizza. It's plain and simple," said Bushman.

"Did you notice where the pizza box came from?"

"I believe it was Presto Pizza."

"Did you notice the location?"

"We didn't bother. It was just a damn piece of pizza, Elderberry. Why don't you just go back to your cell and we'll talk about this tomorrow."

"Sir, wait. It came from the location near the campus."

"What's the big deal about that?"

"That's some ten miles from Zipper Down's apartment – and fifteen miles from the Grand Ballroom, where he was last seen alive."

"Elderberry, what are you getting at?"

"Sir, Pel-tire is the one who ordered that pizza. I checked the records. It was delivered to his apartment on Maplewood. It wasn't delivered to Zipper Down's apartment. It was brought there by Pel-tire. There's got to be some connection."

"Okay – maybe you've got something there," Bushman said. "I'll call Captain Richards in the morning and have him let you go."

"In the morning? Are you goddamn crazy?"

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Elderberry."

"I'm not spending another..."

Bushman slammed the phone down. He grabbed his JD bottle and looked at his beagle, Corporal Punishment. "You know what, Corp? That Elderberry sure is a pain in the ass. I think he's about to figure out the whole thing." Corporal Punishment jumped on Bushman's lap and started licking his face. "There, that is such a sweet puppy. Give Daddy a big kiss." He put peanut butter on his lips and let the happy beagle lick away.

The phone in Nick's apartment started ringing. Andie wanted someone to talk to. There was no hello to be heard.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: _Kitchen Help_

Debbie was driving home from another disappointing rehearsal. She had flubbed every line. She went to Balls & Burgers to relax a little. As she drove in front of Tony's place, she saw the white Lexus parked in front. She blew her horn, stuck her hand out the window, and flipped the middle finger. Tony recognized the horn and ran to the window just in time to see Debbie's gesture.

Harold arrived at Little Italy right at eight o'clock. Gina came prancing out the front door to the car. She was wearing a scarlet-red tank dress, which clung to every sexy curve of her body.

She opened the door and said, "Let's go."

"You look wonderful tonight," said Harold.

"Cut the crap, Harold," she said. "I know what you want and you know what I want. Let's just have a little fun at my uncle's expense then get down to what we really both want."

"You're a pretty bold woman," Harold commented.

"It runs in the family. I came here to visit Uncle Carlos and he has me greeting customers at his restaurant. This is bullshit. I need to have a little fun."

"You don't have an Italian accent like you did earlier."

"Of course I don't. I was just humoring the uncle. I was born in Los Angeles and live in San Diego. I thought it would be nice to visit the old man, seeing what he's going through with my cousin Frank."

"You don't look like the type of lady who needs to be fixed up."

"Harold – can I call you something else? I don't like that name."

"Sure. My middle name is Walter."

"That's just as bad. How about Walls?"

"I guess so. Sure. Walls will be okay."

"Good. Well, Walls, my uncle – if you haven't noticed – is a bit overprotective. I've been trying to go out for the whole two weeks I've been here. He wouldn't let me. He said he had to make sure he found someone suitable."

"I guess I'm that person."

Gina looked at Harold and smiled, "You'll do."

"Where would you like to go? We have two-thousand dollars to blow."

"I want to have a hamburger and shoot pool." Harold was surprised.

"Are you sure? I mean, with this much money to spend, the sky's the limit."

"Look, Walls, I'm treated like a little girl at home by my mom and dad. I come over here and I get treated worse. I don't like all this fancy crap. I want to party with the locals. I want to do what normal people do."

"Okay, whatever you want. I saw a place near campus yesterday. I think it's called Balls & Burgers."

"I like that name," said an excited Gina. She leaned over and planted a huge kiss on Harold, causing him to swerve.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm kissing you, idiot."

"But I'm trying to drive." Harold was having a tough time saying on the road.

"So let's park somewhere."

"You've got to be kidding."

Gina reached down between Harold's legs and started rubbing. "Does this look like I'm kidding?"

"Don't you want to eat pool and shoot burgers?" Harold said, as he tried to keep the car on the road.

Gina knew she had him under her control. "We can do that afterwards."

"After what?" Harold asked. She planted another kiss on him while maneuvering herself facing him on his lap. She started moving her hips back and forth while Harold rose to the occasion underneath. He tried to concentrate on driving, but her breasts kept getting in the way. He pushed her aside and pulled on the side of the road.

"What's wrong? Don't you want it?" she asked.

"I can't drive like that."

"I bet you can drive me." Gina unzipped Harold's pants and went down on him. He tried to concentrate on the traffic passing by, but she was just too good.

"Let's go behind that tree right there," he said.

Gina smiled. "Take off your jacket. We can do it on that."

Harold was hesitant to use his three hundred-dollar jacket as a blanket until he saw Gina flip off her dress. There was just enough light from the moon for him to see her in all her glory. He started to unbutton his shirt, when Gina ripped it open. The pants came next, and after two minutes, so did Harold.

Debbie sat at the dark corner of the bar. Marlena brought her a needed beer.

"You sure look like you can use this one tonight. What's the problem?"

"My life is falling apart," said Debbie. "Tony is cheating on me with Benny's girlfriend, my acting sucks, and I work for a bunch of assholes."

"You think Tony is cheating on you? No way. That man loves you too much."

"Well, I saw him yesterday with her and I just passed by his apartment. Her car was there."

"Did you talk to him yet? There's probably some reasonable explanation for all this."

"I don't ever want to talk to his foreign ass again. Screw him."

Marlena saw a couple approaching the bar. "Excuse me a second, Debbie. Let me take care of this couple."

Debbie looked up and saw the couple. It was Harold, with a torn open shirt, hair out of place, and a young vixen she had never seen before.

"What can I get you guys?" asked Marlena.

"Do you have any Grand Marnier?" asked Harold.

"We have beer, wine, and cheap liquor," answered Marlena.

"What do you mean by cheap?" asked Harold.

"Quit being such a lame twit," said Gina. "Just get us a pitcher of Budweiser."

Marlena returned with the beer. "Can I see some ID?"

Harold laughed, "It's been years since I've been carded."

"Not you, sir. I can tell you're well over twenty-one. I need to see hers."

"Did you know that Carlos Verona is my uncle?" said Gina.

"Well, Bill Gates is my ninth cousin. I still need to see some ID," Marlena stated. As Gina was reluctant to show her driver's license, Harold was thinking that she was at least twenty-one.

"Sorry," said Marlena, as she looked at the birthdate. "Can I get you something else?"

"A coke will be fine," said a dejected Gina.

"I didn't know you weren't twenty-one yet," said Harold.

"Not quite yet. Hang out here for a second. I have to go to the ladies room." She strolled away for a bathroom break. Marlena took one of the beer mugs away and poured Harold a glass. She gave him a dirty look as she walked away and returned to Debbie.

"Man, can you believe that guy?" she asked.

"That guy is my boss," said Debbie. "You think he can see me over here?"

"No. You don't have to worry about that. This corner is where most of my indiscreets hang out. You'll never guess how old that girl is that he brought in."

Harold decided to peek at Gina's license while she was in the bathroom. He glanced at it, than turned whiter than a sheet.

"Sixteen?" laughed Debbie. Harold looked over to see who just blurted out the unbelievable number. He couldn't see Debbie in the corner. He got real nervous, grabbed Gina's purse, and went towards the bathroom. He grabbed Gina as she was walking out.

"We have to leave," he muttered.

"Why? We just got here."

They were walking out the front door, when he heard a voice yell, "Jail-bait." He thought he recognized Debbie's voice but wasn't too sure. He didn't wait to find out. He pushed Gina into the car and sped away.

"You see what I mean about the bosses I have?" asked Debbie.

"That one was a real winner."

"Oh well, get me another beer. Better yet, bring that pitcher he left behind." She drank the entire pitcher by herself, and then remembered that Andie told her earlier that Harold was supposed to be going to her apartment that evening.

"Can I use the phone, Marlena?"

"Sure," said Marlena, as she brought the bar phone over to where Debbie was sitting. Debbie called Andie.

"Hello?" asked Andie.

"Andie - It's me – Debbie - your best friend – you remember me?"

Andie was startled to hear Debbie sounding so drunk. "Where are you?"

"I'm at Burs & Balgles. I need to talk – to you."

"Are you all right?"

"Sure am I - feel just fine - are you okay?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm sorry about Harold."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sixteen girl with dark hair."

"Debbie, are you okay?"

Marlena grabbed the phone from Debbie. "Hello?"

"Who's this?" asked Andie.

"This is Marlena from Balls & Burgers. Are you a friend of Debbie's?"

"Yes, I am. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she just had a little too much to drink. Could you come get her?"

"Sure. I'll be right over." Andie put on some clothes and went straight to pick up Debbie.

Nick was sitting at the dinner table with Barry, Shanice, and her husband, Roshondi. Nick didn't have much to say. Barry and Shanice were hogging the conversation.

"What's the matter Nick?" asked Barry. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Leave him alone, Daddy," said Shanice. "He's going through a rough time right now."

"I'm fine," said Nick.

"How do you like your Cajun gumbo appetizer, honey?" she asked Roshondi.

"It tastes like the mud from my village sewer," he said.

"What did you just say?" asked Nick.

"I cannot believe that civilized people can eat this swill."

"You have to excuse Roshondi," said Barry. "He hasn't been in this country long. Shanice met him on one of her international flights to Tanzania."

"And you've grown to love him, haven't you, Daddy?"

"As hard as it was, I have to say I have. He treats you well."

"I have tasted better cuisine from the belly of a wild boar," Roshondi added.

Nick was offended. "Listen here, man. You shouldn't put down gumbo like that."

"I would like to put this down – right down the toilet."

"I really don't feel like taking this crap from you," said Nick.

"Oh, I was hoping you would. I sure do not want it," added Roshondi.

Nick started to stand up. Barry put his hand on Nick's shoulder.

"Hang on, son. No need to start a fight."

"I'm not trying to start a fight. He's putting down gumbo, man. I'm a little offended." Nick was still on edge about his parents.

"He hasn't learned tactfulness yet," said Shanice.

"If this man would like to start a fight, I would be glad to honor his request. I must defend the Motabi name," said Roshondi.

"Ain't nobody gonna fight at this table," said Barry. "Nick, you sit your butt down right here. And Roshondi, please have a little respect for Nick's heritage. He's from Louisiana. They take pride in their food."

"I am sorry, father-in-law."

"Don't say it to me. Say it to Nick."

"But I do not like him."

"That's okay," said Nick. "The feeling's mutual – and I wasn't going to start a fight"

"How have you enjoyed Chicago so far, Nick?" asked Shanice, trying to change the subject.

"I still haven't found a rock drummer, but I've been having a blast – except for last night and right now."

"What happened last night?" asked Shanice.

"I almost had sex with Satan," said Nick, without skipping a beat.

Shanice started laughing. "You are so funny."

"What's so funny about me almost having sex with Satan?"

"I'm sorry, Nick. It's just that the path you're on is going to lead you to some complicated situations. You're just now starting to live your life. That Jamie woman ruined it, so now you're rebuilding it. You're not in Chicago to find a rock drummer."

"Didn't we have this conversation before? I told you – I am in Chicago to find a rock drummer."

"You are such a naive man. You are going to find what you're looking for, but not in Chicago."

"Where?" asked Nick, "And just what am I looking for if not a rock drummer?"

"Shanice, honey. What did I tell you about messing with lives like that?" asked Barry.

"But Daddy, it's the gift you passed on to me. You said it's been in your family for centuries."

"Please don't be spreading that around," said Barry.

"Are you ashamed about your heritage, father-in-law?" asked Roshondi.

"I ain't ashamed of nothing," Barry proclaimed.

"Well, you should be proud of your daughter. She is using a gift passed on from many generations. In my country, that would be an honor."

"Sweetheart," said Shanice, "it's an honor in this country, too."

"So, what's up ahead for me?" asked Nick.

"I can't tell you. You have to find out for yourself."

The waiter brought Nick his own cup of gumbo. "You people up here sure do know how to get a guy worked up." He took a sip of the thick roux. "Shit," he hollered, as he spit it out. "This tastes like shit."

Roshondi started laughing. "You see, I told you so."

The manager ran to the table. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"There sure is. That Roshondi-di-do guy right there was absolutely right. This gumbo does taste like swill."

"I must apologize, sir. We have just added Cajun dishes to the menu. This is our new chef's first night. He told us he was a master of Cajun cuisine and authentic gumbo is supposed to taste this way."

"What kind of credentials did he give you?" asked Nick.

"He said he was the head chef at Chez Broussard in Lafayette, Louisiana, for twenty years. He just moved here."

"Well, I haven't been in Lafayette in seventeen years, but I can tell you – there was no such place as Chez Broussard back then. I think you have an imposter on your hands."

"Nick, you don't have to make such a fuss," said Barry.

"Hey, somebody back there is giving Cajun food a bad name." He then asked the manager, "Can I go back to the kitchen to meet him?"

That's not something we normally would let customers do, sir. We usually have the chef come out here to the patrons."

"But I'll be doing you a favor. I just want to meet him and see what he uses to make this so-called authentic gumbo. I promise I won't cause any trouble." Nick was serious about gumbo.

"Well, this is against my better judgment. All right, follow me."

Nick followed the manager into the kitchen. He took one look at the chef and recognized him.

"Alphonse," said the manager. "This gentleman would like to have a few words with you." The chef squinted as he stared at Nick. He was chopping onions and held on to the knife as he put on his glasses. He took a few steps towards Nick and remembered the face.

"You son-of-a-bitch," screamed the cook. "You're one of those bastards that ruined my daughter's wedding." It was the ex-mayor of Lafayette.

"That man's not a chef. He wasn't even a good mayor," yelled Nick. Alphonse ran after Nick, while still holding the knife.

"I'll kill you, you bastard."

"This idiot is insane," screamed Nick. The manager tried to step in, but Alphonse took a swing at him with the knife. It sliced into the manager's leg as he fell to the floor.

"Call 911," he shrieked, as he lay bleeding on the kitchen floor. Nick ran out the kitchen, with Alphonse right behind him – waiving the blood soaked knife.

"Why are you after me? I'm not the one who screwed your daughters," screamed Nick.

"Your band ruined her wedding," said the crazy Alphonse. "I'll kill you."

"I didn't do anything wrong, you psycho son-of-a-bitch," yelled the frightened Nick, as he maneuvered himself around a table full of terrified guests.

"Nobody gets away with ruining Alphonse LeBlanc's good name."

"Somebody, please stop this crazy bastard," cried Nick.

"What in the hell is going on?" asked Barry.

"Oh, God. That man is trying to kill Nick," shouted Shanice.

Nick slipped on a water spot and fell. Roshondi picked up a glass from the table and hurled it towards Alphonse. It went right between two startled dinners and hit Alphonse in the nose, just before he could take a stab at Nick. Alphonse fell to the floor and hit his head on a table on the way down. Roshondi grabbed two table napkins and tied him up faster than a rodeo star ties a calf.

"This man is now ready for the authorities," said a proud Roshondi.

Nick looked at Alphonse. "Man, you are one crazy son-of-a-bitch." He put out his hand to shake Roshondi's. "Thanks a bunch, man. I owe you one."

"You owe me nothing," said Roshondi. "It was an honor to be able to defend one's life."

Shanice gave Roshondi a huge hug. "I love you, so much."

"That's my boy," Barry said, with a proud smile. The police arrived within minutes, followed by EMS. Everyone gave statements. An hour later, Barry was giving Nick a ride back to his hotel.

"Man, you guys sure know how to party," said Nick.

"This is something we don't do everyday, you know," said Barry. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"I'll be all right. I knew somebody out there was trying to kill me. I never thought it would be the ex-mayor of my hometown."

"Well, you get yourself some rest, son. I'll see you tomorrow on the boat." Barry dropped Nick off at the hotel. Nick wasted no time in going to his room and crawling into bed. He needed to go to the bathroom, but didn't want to chance another confrontation with the Dark One.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: _Hot Sand_

Benny was at New Lake International Airport at seven o'clock Thursday morning to meet Julie's plane. He was two hours early but wanted to make sure he was there to greet her. As the plane unloaded, he saw a woman wearing a baggy sweatshirt and sunglasses.

He walked up to her and asked, "Miss Templeton?"

Julie pulled down her shades and said, "You're Ben Myers. I recognize you from the paper. And please, call me Julie."

Benny couldn't believe that she had seen a picture of him. "Excuse me for being a little star struck, Julie, but..."

"Oh, no, on the contrary. I'm the one who should be star struck."

"Wait a second. I'm standing next to the woman who every man in America wants to meet, and you're telling me you're the one who's star struck?"

"Mr. Myers..."

"No way – please call me Benny."

"Okay, Benny," smiled Julie. "I've been following your career for the last two years. I've looked up every time your name has been mentioned in record deals. You're the reason I want to do this video."

"I don't understand," said Benny.

"I've seen the bands you've produced. They were all talented. None of them were full of the hype and shallow personalities that usually come with rock musicians. I hate phony people. My agent is one of them. He's happy having me being the BreastMaster girl. I want more. I'm actually more talented than you know. I can sing, dance, and act. I need to be associated with someone who can take me seriously." They walked to the limo Benny had waiting for them. He was apprehensive but knew he had to tell Julie the truth.

"Excuse me for being honest, Julie, but..."

"I know. You wanted me for my, um, should I say, assets?" She gave Benny a knowing smile.

Benny was a little ashamed. "Well, you are a high profile figure right now."

"I'm doing infomercials that have been getting a lot of airplay. If I keep doing just that, I'll be known as the BreastMaster Girl forever. I don't want that."

"How long do you have on your contract?" asked Benny.

"I only have one more to do. That's why when I heard about this chance to make a video with the Cramping Violets, I jumped at the chance."

"You know we can't pay you one cent. It would cause big problems with the BreastMaster people. You do have an exclusive contract."

"That's fine. I have no problem with that. It's what we agreed on."

"Out of curiosity, what paper did you see my name in?"

"The New Lake Times."

"How did you get a copy of that?"

"My agent has some kind of ties to this city. He gets a week's worth of papers every Monday. I like to glance through them."

"Who is your agent?" asked Benny. "I talked to quite a few people at the agency, but nobody would let me talk to your actual agent."

"I really don't want to get into that, Benny. Let's do this video, let me finish my contract, and we'll take it from there."

"No problem," said Benny. "We're on our way to the lake right now. The band should be waiting and the production crew should be set up."

Julie smiled. "I can't wait." She moved closer to Benny and sat right next to him. Benny was elated.

Gerome Elderberry was sitting in his cell. He had a two-day growth on his face, which he wasn't accustomed to.

Captain Richards opened the door. "Let's go, Elderberry. It's checkout time."

"Well let me say the accommodations haven't been up to my usual standards. Is there someplace I can shower and shave?"

"Yeah, come this way." Captain Richards directed Gerome to the locker room.

"Knock yourself out. There's soap, shampoo, and shaving cream."

"What about a razor?" asked Gerome.

"Let me see if I can find you one." Richards left Elderberry alone. Gerome crept into the shower stall. He made sure he didn't step on the cracks in the tiles. He didn't want to touch the mold. All of a sudden, he heard two people enter the locker room.

"Did you hear about the psycho chef last night?" said one voice.

"Yeah, that stabbing incident at Toulouse," said the other.

"Man, what kind of crazy shit is that?"

"Some crazy Cajun went berserk, I heard. Did you know he used to be a mayor of some city in Louisiana?"

"Yeah. It was another Cajun who got the whole mess started last night."

"I got a glance at the report. He played in a band that was performing at the mayor's daughter's reception. I think it said something about one of the band members screwing the daughters, and this other guy was playing Play that Funky Music."

"I heard that he screwed the wife, too."

"Probably got the poor man's sister and mother while he was at it."

"He had a weird name. Pel-tee-I-er, or something like that."

"Pel-tire," screamed Elderberry. He ran out the shower.

"Who the hell are you?" asked one of the men.

"Let me see that report," demanded the naked Elderberry.

"I'm not showing you shit until you tell me who you are."

"I'm Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry of New Lake City Homicide. This man you're talking about is a probable murder suspect. I need to find him."

Captain Richards came in, carrying a disposable razor. "What's all the commotion?"

"You have a deranged criminal running loose in the city. I need to see the report of the incident at the Too Loose Club."

"You must mean the Toulouse. It's a restaurant, not a club. I guess there's no harm in you seeing it. Here, shave that crap off your face first."

Elderberry grabbed the razor and finished getting cleaned up. He noticed the two men staring at him. "Why don't you take a goddamn picture – it'll last longer," he snarled.

"Let's leave this fruitcake alone," said one of the men.

Debbie was sound asleep on Andie's couch when she felt a tug on her shoulder.

"What's going on?" she asked. She was squinting as the morning light was peeking through the window.

"You're at my apartment," said Andie. "I called the office and told them we had to go to the courthouse this morning and would be a few hours late."

"What time is it?"

"Nine," said Andie.

"What day is it?"

"Thursday."

"What month is it?" Debbie asked.

"Are you that bad off?" asked Andie. "Don't you remember what happened last night?"

"Not a thing. How did I get here?"

"Marlena, from Balls & Burgers, called me last night to pick you up. You were completely wasted."

"This is so embarrassing. I don't remember a thing."

"Now, you sound like Nick," Andie remarked. "You don't remember calling me and saying that you were sorry about Harold?"

"Didn't you two get together last night?"

"No. He had to work."

"There's something strange going on here. I just can't think of it right now," said Debbie.

"Well, here's some coffee. You can wear one of my outfits to work. We really need to get going."

"Can I shower first?"

"You're going to have to make it a quick one. We're really late."

Debbie went into the bathroom and hopped in the shower. The warm water was bringing her to her senses. She started remembering the events of the night before. She put on a towel and walked out the room.

"How's this dress?" asked Andie.

"Boring," said Debbie. "I'll wear it, anyway. I'm not out to impress anybody today." The two ladies were about the same size. The dress fit but made Debbie look older and a lot less attractive.

"That's really not you," said Andie. "Let me find something else."

"No, don't worry about it. This will be fine. Let's go." She put on the dress and didn't bother fixing her hair or makeup. They left for the office in Andie's car. The mid-morning traffic was smooth, so the commute took only twenty minutes.

"So, Harold had to work late last night?" asked Debbie.

"Yeah. Mr. Grimes has him wrapped up with this Carlos deal. It's going to keep me pretty busy, too."

"What do you think about Harold?"

"Debbie, I really like him. He's gorgeous. I was hoping to – well, you know – get him alone last night."

"Maybe he's not what he seems."

"I don't understand."

"Well, maybe he's just using you to..." She stopped talking.

"Yes, go on," urged Andie.

Debbie started thinking about Tony. "Using you until the next blond bimbo comes along and he dumps you like last week's leftovers."

"Are you okay, Debbie?" Debbie burst into tears as they drove into the parking garage of the Kensington building.

"Screw Tony – screw Harold – screw Peter Grimes."

"Maybe you shouldn't be at work today."

"Well, I'm here. I might as well make the best of it," said Debbie, through the sniffles.

The limo pulled into Lake Park. The band and production crews were anticipating their arrival. When Julie stepped out of the car, the band members got on their knees and did the ceremonious We're not worthy routine, as they dropped to their knees and waved their arms up and down.

"Get a grip, guys," said Julie. "We've got a lot of work to do."

Pizza Guy was the first to step up to Julie. "Like, you are a goddess. I watch you on the tube and wish, like, I could be the BreastMaster and, like, you were squeezing me." Julie was embarrassed.

"You guys are so cute." Benny was doing the directing and gave everybody their respective positions. The song, Love Blender, was cued and the band started lip-syncing. Julie walked in front of Wesley, the guitarist, and rubbed her hand over his face, as directed by Benny. He dropped his guitar on his foot and screamed in agony.

"Cut," hollered Benny. "Wesley, why isn't your guitar strapped on?"

"It was," he said, as he hopped around on one foot. "She just melted the strap off."

"Okay, take your places and we'll try the shot again. Julie, try starting with Dylan, the bass player, this time." The music started and Julie made the slow, sexy walk towards Dylan. He tried to keep his cool, but his knees buckled as Julie rubbed her hand on his face.

"Cut, again," screamed Benny. "What's wrong with you guys?"

"Just look at her, dude," yelled Pizza Guy. "How are we supposed to keep our cool when you have this hot babe rubbing all over us?"

Benny smiled. "You guys have a point there." He knew he found the perfect girl.

"Why aren't you filming?" asked Jamie, who had just walked up to the set.

"Oh, hi Jamie," said Benny. "I want you to meet Julie Templeton."

Jamie was amazed. "My, God. You are even more beautiful in person." Julie smiled.

"That's quite a compliment, coming from a woman as beautiful as you."

"And you're a charmer, too," said an excited Jamie.

"I should say she is," said Carlos Verona, as he stepped up behind Jamie. "I'm Carlos Verona," he said, as he kissed Julie's hand. "Welcome to our beautiful city."

"The pleasure is all mine," said Julie. "I know who you are. My agent works for you."

Jamie was a little nervous about this. "You work for Carlos?"

"Well, not directly, but he is the owner of the agency I work for."

"I hope they're paying you well for this," said Carlos. Julie got a little nervous, herself.

"I'm not exactly getting paid for this, sir. That would violate my contract."

"Yes, it would," said Carlos. "And you definitely wouldn't want to do that, would you?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Don't let me interrupt your work here. I just want to watch." He looked at Jamie. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Carlos Verona." He held out his hand. "And you would be?"

Jamie grabbed his hand. "I'm Jamie O'Malley. I'm overseeing the operations at Apocalypse Records at the moment."

Carlos kissed her hand. "You are a very beautiful woman. I like redheads. Who do you work for?" He didn't have complete trust in Peter's explanation.

"Like I told you earlier, she works for us," said Peter Grimes, who had just walked up.

Jamie said, "I have a lot of work to do, so if you gentlemen would excuse me..."

"Who exactly put you in charge," said Peter. "I know you work for us, but I need to know the person's name who put you in place."

"Peter, don't be so rude," said Carlos. "If she doesn't want to tell us, that's her decision. You must learn to respect a woman's wishes." He turned to Jamie. "It was a joy to meet you, Miss O'Malley. I'm sure we'll meet again."

"You can count on that," said Jamie. She turned to Peter. "I assume you're Peter Grimes?"

"You assume correctly," said Peter.

"And Miss Templeton, I'd love to have you join me for dinner this evening," added Carlos.

"Actually, as the one in charge of this company, I should be taking her out tonight," insisted Jamie.

"I'm flattered," said Julie, "But I was kind of hoping to have dinner with Benny this evening."

Benny was stunned. "Me?"

"Of course, you."

He was gleaming. "Yeah, sure."

Jamie and Carlos stood there, both dejected.

"Well, Miss O'Malley, would you like to join me for dinner this evening?" asked Carlos.

Jamie looked at him. "First of all, it's really nice of you to ask, Mr. Verona, but I don't appreciate being second choice – especially when the first choice just turned you down flat right in front of me."

"I understand. That was highly rude of me. My apologies."

"And second – I really don't like you. No offense."

"None taken," said Carlos.

"If you would excuse me, I have a lot of work to do," said Jamie.

Carlos tipped his fedora to Jamie and motioned to Peter to leave with him.

As they walked away, Carlos asked, "Do you boys know what you're doing?"

"Sure, we do," said Peter. "Why do you ask?"

"That O'Malley woman obviously doesn't work for you. I don't care what you do with this record company, but I don't want any screw-ups being associated with me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I most certainly do, but she does work for us. I was just trying to find out which one of my people put her in charge. I'm just trying to stay on top of things."

"You know, Grimes, I really don't care. Don't you forget – my main objective is to save Frank's life. This little record company thing is just a little bonus for a job you were hired to do. It's cost me a lot of money to buy that little operation for you. You can obtain it anyway you want, but you better make sure everything is on the up-and-up."

"You have absolutely nothing to worry about, sir. We are the best in the business."

"You better be. That's why I hired you."

Debbie was at her desk, still in tears. Harold walked by, trying to avoid eye contact.

She blurted out, "How was your night, Harold?"

He stopped and turned around. "I had a lot of work to do last night. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I don't know. I thought you might want to play a little game of sixteen questions." The phone rang and she answered, "Harold Rogers' office – Lolita speaking – No, I'm sorry. He's not in today. I believe he's out cruising the local high schools."

Harold slammed his hand on the phone. "I need to speak to you in my office – right now."

Debbie followed Harold into his office. She slammed the door behind her.

"What kind of sick weirdo are you?" she asked.

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about. You've been rude, obnoxious, and unprofessional since you started working for me."

"You know damn well what I'm talking about. I saw you last night."

"I was working here last night."

"Oh, come on, Harold. I saw you last night at Balls & Burgers with that sixteen-year-old girl you'd just banged."

"That's the most preposterous thing I have ever heard. I've never been to that place and I most certainly would not have sex with a sixteen-year-old girl. How dare you make that kind of accusation?"

"I know what I saw," Debbie said.

"Well, I know what I've been seeing," said Harold. "You have embarrassed me in front of my boss and clients. You have done lousy work and have shone me nothing but disrespect. I have no choice but to let you go."

"Are you trying to say that I'm fired?"

"I know the firm employs you, but you have committed insubordination towards me. Since I am considered your immediate supervisor, I have every right to fire you."

Debbie looked at Harold for a few seconds with moving. "Okay, asshole. I'll walk out of here nice and quiet. But, believe me – this will not be the last you hear from me. You're going down." She walked out, slamming the door behind her. Harold called Andie's office.

"This is Andie Jenson."

"Andie, hi. This is Harold."

"Hi. How was your all nighter?" He was a little nervous. He didn't know if Debbie had spoke to her.

"My all nighter?" he asked.

"Yeah, you said you would probably have to work all night. How did it go?"

"Oh, it went well. I got home around three and had to be here bright and early. How was your evening?"

"It was pretty interesting. I had to go rescue Debbie last night at this place called Balls & Burgers. I guess you've noticed she isn't quite up to par today."

"Oh. I've noticed. Listen, how would you like to have dinner this evening?"

"I'd love to. Pick me up at seven?"

"Great. I'll see you then." He needed to put his charm into overdrive to save him from this mess.

Debbie called for a cab to take her home so she could get her car. She drove to Balls & Burgers. As she passed in front of the 7-Eeven, she slowed down, blew the horn, and flipped off Tony as he stood behind the counter.

CHAPTER THIRTY: _Sail On, Sailor_

A cool breeze pushed Sweet Shanice across Lake Michigan. The twenty-eight foot catamaran held the relaxed crew of Barry, Sammy, Roshondi, and Nick. As he stared across the wavy water, Nick started thinking about the days his grandmother would take him to Holly Beach on the Gulf Coast of Louisiana. It wasn't much of a beach, but it did offer a grand view of the Gulf of Mexico. He would always get a serene sense of being when he gazed over the open waters.

"What you thinking about, son?" asked Barry.

"Nothing in particular," replied Nick. "I'm just admiring the scenery."

"I bet he's thinking about pussy," said Sammy.

"You got that wrong, needle dick," said Barry. "That's all you think about."

"Ain't nothin' wrong with that," said Sammy.

"Yeah, but at your age, all you can do is think about it," Barry joked.

"Father-in-law," Roshondi said, "I do not understand why you must insult your friend like that."

"He knows I'm just joshing him, Roshondi. You need to learn to lighten up."

"I'm still trying to learn all of your American customs. They seem rather peculiar."

"And I suppose dressing up in grass skirts with a mask on, and dancing around a fire isn't strange," added Sammy.

"I suppose you are right. I guess that would seem rather strange to you," said Roshondi. He would perform his ancestral dance at home while Barry would watch with amazement and embarrassment.

"Do you really do that?" asked Nick.

"Yes. In my mother country, it is a sacred ritual."

"What's the purpose?" asked Nick.

"It is to keep Satan away."

Nick was interested. "Does it work?"

"Why, of course it does. The evil one does not make his presence known to me," Roshondi boasted.

"Can you show it to me?" Nick could use anything that acted as a Satan repellant.

"Right here?"

"Yeah."

"Hell, no," replied Barry. "Nobody is going to do the mojo dance on my boat. I don't believe in that stuff."

"What about your gift?" asked Sammy.

"First Shanice, now you, you old buzzard. I don't want to hear no more about that stupid gift," said Barry, as he stood up to get another beer. "Anybody need another?"

"What actually is the gift?" asked Nick.

"No. We ain't talking about it. Who wants a another beer, dammit?"

"It has been in his family for many generations," said Roshondi. "Shanice told me about it when we met. She said I was the man she was going to marry the moment we met. She was correct."

"That don't mean a damn thing," said Barry. "Shanice is a beautiful lady. Ain't no man going to say no to her." He started tossing beers.

"I can vouch for that," said Nick, as he grabbed the precious brew out of midair. "Your daughter is gorgeous."

"I think I am supposed to be jealous from that remark," said Roshondi. He reached up and grabbed the flying can without looking at it. "According to your American custom, is this the time where I must beat you senseless for making comments about my wife?"

"Ain't nobody gonna fight on my boat," said Barry. He threw a can towards Sammy.

"You know what's going to happen to me, don't you Barry?" asked Nick.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't."

"Give the boy a break," said Sammy, as he watched the can fly by him and splash in the lake. "Give him a hint of what's up ahead for him – and learn how to toss a damn beer."

"No, damn it. I said I don't want to tell him – and learn how to catch, you blind old jack-ass."

"It must be bad, then," said Nick.

"No, it ain't bad at all," said Barry.

"So you do know," said Nick. "What is it?"

"I know I'm gonna kick your ass if you keep bugging me about this."

"Come on, Barry. I need to know what's up for me."

"Are you going back to Louisiana tomorrow?"

"Yeah, why?"

"All I can say is you're gonna find the answer down there."

"What do you mean by that?"

"That's all I can tell you. Now, shut up and drink your beer. I'm tired of all this gift nonsense."

"It is a good thing, Father-in-law," said Roshondi. "You should be proud."

"Well, I don't like it – and quit calling me Father-in-law." He tossed another beer to Sammy.

"What is it you would like me to address you with?"

"How about old fart?" said Sammy, as the beer can flew over his head.

"How about _Dad_?" added Nick.

Barry stared at Roshondi for a few seconds. " _Father-in law_ will be fine."

The afternoon sun was beating down on the video site in New Lake City. Benny was enjoying his role as director. He had Julie getting the band so worked up, he couldn't tell if the sweat they showed was from the heat, or Julie. When he noticed three o'clock rolling around, he stopped the filming.

"Okay, everybody. We have to get to the church. The funeral starts in thirty minutes," he commanded.

Jamie was standing next to him – also sweating from Julie's performance.

"Do you plan to film the funeral?" she asked.

"Of course," replied Benny. "We'll have the whole band being the pall bearers, then have the procession pass right in front of the lake, while we have the band looking on from these shots I just filmed."

"What does Zipper Down's funeral have to do with the song Love Blender?"

"Absolutely nothing. I'm just using the publicity from it to promote the song. I'll use the scene as sort of a passing, and introduce Pizza Guy as the one taking his place. The whole Love Blender thing will just be a mixed-up collage of scenes. It'll be a quick history of the band mingled with sexual overtones to say to the world –Here they are – The Cramping Violets."

"That's brilliant, Benny," said Jamie. "When will the song be released?"

"I had it released this morning. All the rock stations in the country should have it in their rotations by this afternoon. I exhausted all my connections in the business, but I think it'll work."

"Great job. Let's hope it works. We've got a lot riding on this project." Jamie was glad Benny was taking control of the project.

"By the way, have you seen Nick? I thought he'd surely be here to watch the filming." Benny was sure this was something Nick would love to see.

"Don't you remember? I sent Nick away on a project."

"That's right. It's just weird for him not to be here for something like this. Do you know when he'll be back?" he asked.

"Not really, but don't worry about it. You're doing a fine job here. Just keep it up."

"Thanks. Are you going to the funeral?"

"No. I have to get back to the office."

"Okay." He turned to Julie. "Hey, Julie. You can ride with me."

Julie had just changed into her funeral dress. It was a skimpy black mini, which left nothing to the imagination. She smiled as she walked past Jamie. Jamie felt her knees buckle.

Debbie was at the corner of the bar, drinking Crown & Seven. Marlena walked in to collect her paycheck and noticed her.

"What are you doing back here so early in the afternoon?" asked Marlena.

"I was just fired," sobbed Debbie.

"You're kidding? By that child molester boss of yours?"

"One and the same."

"You can't let him get away with this." Marlena had no sympathy for men with underage girls. She had been taken advantaged of by an older man when she was sixteen. Now that she was older and wiser – she was the one taking advantage of older men.

"Don't worry, I won't," said Debbie.

"Well, look. Getting plastered in the middle of the afternoon isn't any way to deal with this. I'm leaving tomorrow for Key West for the weekend. My cousin's getting married and Jim was supposed to come with me for the weekend. I'm stuck with his plane ticket. Why don't you come with me? I'm sure I can exchange his ticket and get you on the flight. It'll do you some good to get away for a few days."

"That's not a bad idea. I have a rehearsal tonight, but we have the weekend off. Thanks, Marlena." Debbie was ready to get away for a little while.

"You're more than welcome. I think you really need it. It'll put a little distance between you, Tony and that pervert you work for."

"Used to work for," corrected Debbie.

It was smooth sailing for Barry's boat, even with an intoxicated crew on board. They started talking about past experiences with women. Nick gave a short version of his Jamie ordeal to the guys.

"That's a pretty screwed-up story, boy," said Sammy. "But you know what they say – It's better to have loved and lost than not to get any pussy at all."

"You old buzzard, that's not how it goes," said Barry. "And besides, he didn't get any pussy from her. She was a lesbian." He tossed yet another beer to Sammy.

"What exactly is a lesbian?" asked Roshondi.

"It's a woman who just likes other women," said Nick.

"Why would a woman not like the love of a man?" asked a confused Roshondi.

"Have you taken a look at yourself," said Sammy. "You lucky any woman would have you, much less someone fine as Shanice."

"Should I be offended?" asked Roshondi. "That sounds like it may be an insulin."

"Insult," Nick corrected. "No, Roshondi. You see - lesbians can still love men. They just aren't attracted to men in a sexual manner."

"So they do not like sex?" asked Roshondi.

"Yea, they do. Just not with men," said Nick. Why is this conversation sounding familiar? He thought.

"So who do they have sex with?" Roshondi asked.

"Let me break this one to him, Nick," said Sammy, who popped the top of a beer can he finally caught. "They have sex with other women."

Nick was worried that Roshondi would react the same way he did with the Jamie revelation. He was surprised at Roshondi's reaction.

"Oooh," said Roshondi with a huge grin. "Nice. I think I like lesbians."

"Hold on, boy," said Barry. "You're my daughter's husband. Don't you be getting any ideas."

"While we're on that subject – there are also gay men," said Nick.

"Are they the ones who are lucky enough to be with lesbians?" asked Roshondi. "Because that would make me happy and gay."

"No, not happy gay, just gay," explained Nick.

"So what is a gay man like?' asked Roshondi.

"Pel-tire." The sudden sound was heard over a bullhorn. "I need to talk to you right now."

They looked off in the distance and saw a little eight-foot bass boat piloted by Gerome Elderberry. He was bobbing in the waves of Lake Michigan like a little toy boat in child's bathtub.

"Who in the hell is that?" asked Barry.

"I don't believe this," said Nick. "How did that little prick find me here?"

"Don't you move any further. You're wanted for questioning in the death of Zipper Down." His voice sounded more girlish as he tried to shout.

"Would that be an example of a gay man?" asked Roshondi.

"He's about as flaming as they come," said Nick.

"Is he a cop?" asked Barry.

"Yeah. He's some kind of detective in New Lake City."

"What's he doing here?" asked Sammy.

"I don't know. I think he has some crazy idea that I know something about Zipper Down's death."

"Do you?" Barry asked.

"Of course not," yelled Nick.

"You want to lose him?" It was clear that Barry was on Nick's side.

"Please," Nick pleaded.

"No problem," said Barry. He fired up the engine and maneuvered the boat along side of a fifty-foot yacht. The yacht made a sharp turn and was between Barry and Elderberry's boats. The waves caught Gerome by surprise as he tipped over. They could here him crying.

"Pel-tire, you goddamn bastard. I'll get you for this."

Nick saw him bobbing in the lake wearing a life jacket. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"How did he track you out here?" asked Barry.

"He's good, but he's way off base. I don't know why he isn't back home trying to solve this case," said Nick.

"He doesn't look as if he is on fire," said Roshondi.

"What the hell are you talking about?" asked Sammy.

"Nick just said he was flaming."

Jamie was on the phone in her office. "Hi, this is O'Malley – Yes, it's going as planned. Myers is handling the situation beautifully – Elderberry? He's nowhere close. I'm sure Nick will keep his hands full – Yes, Verona seems concerned – Yes, sir – Thank you." She hung up the phone and turned on the radio. Love Blender was blaring out over the airwaves.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: _Mama's Been Around_

"Good afternoon," said the news reporter. "This is David Goldman, reporting live from the lake. You're looking at the funeral procession for Zipper Down, the drummer for the local band, The Cramping Violets. What you see following the hearse is not news media, but a film crew. We have a report that Apocalypse Records is actually making a music video out of this tragic situation. The song, Love Blender, was released today all across the country and the instant response has been phenomenal. As you know, Zipper Down was found dead in his apartment this past Sunday morning. Right here, I have Chief Samuel Bushman of the New Lake City Police. Chief, has it been determined how Mr. Down died?"

"Why, yes, David," he said, smiling. "Zipper Down died from asphyxiation due to a large piece of pizza lodged in his throat."

"So it is officially stated that it was an accident?"

"Yes, it is. No criminal investigation will be needed. It was determined to be an accident." Chief Bushman was never comfortable in front of a camera.

"Is it true that the pizza came from a local delivery?"

Bushman was a little surprised. "Well –uh, yes, but..."

"And didn't the pizza come delivered from a location across town, while there was a location one block from his apartment?"

Bushman turned from the camera and whispered into David Goldman's ear, "What in the hell are you doing? We're on live TV."

"Chief Bushman, I have Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry on the phone. Lieutenant Elderberry, is it true you have been tracking down a murder suspect in Chicago?"

Bushman was stunned to hear Elderberry's voice through the speaker over the monitor in front of him.

"Yes, I am," said Elderberry.

"Are we to understand that you are looking for a suspect in the murder of Zipper Down?"

"But he wasn't murdered," yelled Bushman.

"Like I just told you over the phone, David," said Elderberry, "I have been tracking a suspect for the murder of Zipper Down."

"But Lieutenant, I have your Chief right here and he just told our viewers that it was officially an accident."

"I don't mean to contradict our good Chief, but he told me last night he would keep the investigation open."

"Is that true, Chief Bushman?" Goldman shoved the microphone an inch away from Bushman's quivering lips. Bushman stared into the camera. He saw a little red light blinking on top of it and couldn't come up with a thing to say. "Chief?" asked Goldman.

"Yes?" he replied, in an almost catatonic state.

"Is Lieutenant Elderberry's statement true?"

"I have no comment at this point," said Bushman, as he stormed away from the camera, and ran straight to his car.

"I still have Lieutenant Elderberry on the phone. Sir, what exactly is going on here?"

"Well, right now, I'm on the shore of Lake Michigan where I was just fished out the water by some local boys, who I am quite grateful for. I have been tracking the suspect, which I'll just say is an employee of Apocalypse Records, since the suspect fled from New Lake City on Tuesday evening. I was in pursuit of the boat the suspect was traveling on, when the driver made a move which resulted in myself being thrown into the murky waters of Lake Michigan."

"Why are you in pursuit of this suspect when it was declared that the death was an accident?"

"I have every reason to believe that it was a murder. I have evidence linking the suspect to the murder."

"That would be the pizza box you told me about?"

"That's right, David. The suspect noticed me and fled. I just wanted the citizens of New Lake City to know what was going on."

"There seems to be some disagreement between you and Chief Bushman."

"He doesn't have all the information yet, David. I'll make sure he gets it."

"Is the suspect male or female?"

"I don't really want to disclose that at this time. I want to catch the suspect first, then I'll release the details."

"Trying to avoid a lawsuit against the city, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, David. With the kind of lawyers we have in New Lake City, I want to avoid any mistakes."

"But you already involved Apocalypse Records in the situation."

"I believe you are mistaken, David."

"You just said the suspect was an employee of Apocalypse Records."

"Goddammit to hell - I sure did. I've got to go." A click was heard over the airwaves.

"I'm sure we'll get a call from the FCC for that remark, ladies and gentlemen. This has been David Goldman, reporting to you live, from the lake. Now, back to our regular programming." The camera was turned off. "I can't believe that little shit said that on the air," David said to the cameraman.

Jamie's intercom buzzed. "Yes, Carol?"

"Peter Grimes is on the line for you," said the secretary.

"Oh, what does that creep want now? Okay, I'll take it." She picked up the phone. "What do you want, Grimes?"

"I just wanted to offer my legal representation," said Peter.

"Why would I need that?"

"Didn't you just see the news flash?"

"No, I didn't."

"Well, Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry just announced that he was in pursuit of a murder suspect, who just happened to be an employee of Apocalypse Records."

"What?"

"That's right. Do you know who that might be?"

"I don't have any idea what's going on with that."

"I guess you'll be needing some pretty good attorneys right about now – that is – unless you already have us."

"Now, I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Who in the hell do you work for?" Peter was irate.

"Frankly, that's none of your business, and no – I don't need your services." Jamie replied.

"We're supposed to be owning that stupid company. We have all the papers. Who in the hell are you and what are you doing there?"

"Good day, Mr. Grimes." Jamie slammed the phone down. She picked it back up and made a call. "Sir, this is O'Malley. We seem to have run into a little problem."

Barry was driving Nick, Sammy, and Roshondi to his daughter's house for dinner. Nick was in the back seat, shaken from the boating incident.

"I'm sure Shanice's cooking will set you at ease, Nick," said Barry.

"You look even whiter than this morning," said Sammy,

"And you been in the sun all damn day."

"You look as if you have been in contact with the Devil," said Roshondi.

"I think I have. Maybe you can do the dance for me when we get to your house."

"I would be honored."

"Just make sure I'm not anywhere around when you work that mojo crap," said Barry.

They arrived at the house. It was decorated with artifacts from Roshondi's homeland. His family had made a fortune from an American diamond dealer who created a mine on their property. They gave Roshondi his share after he met Shanice and were engaged. She didn't find out about it until after they were married. Even though they had over ten million dollars in the bank, they continued to live modestly. Shanice never told Barry about the money. Barry figured it out after Roshondi bought him the boat and music studio. Shanice was already cooking. Barry sniffed the aroma coming from the kitchen.

"Pot roast and mashed potatoes – my favorite," said Barry.

"Hi, guys," said Shanice, as she walked from the kitchen and gave her daddy a big hug.

"Should not you be giving your husband one of those, also?" asked Roshondi.

She gave him a huge kiss and said, "I'll be giving you something else later."

"Should not you be making a comment about that, Nick?" asked Roshondi.

"I'm not in the mood to do the smart-ass routine," explained Nick.

Barry turned on the TV. "I'm going to watch a little CNN. You boys go in the back yard and do your little voodoo stuff."

Nick and Roshondi went in the back. Barry and Sammy watched the news.

"In New Lake City earlier today, Zipper Down, the drummer for the Cramping Violets, a local rock band, was buried. The funeral looked like a circus as a film crew followed the procession, reportedly making a music video. Local newscaster, David Goldman, had this interview with the local authorities..." Barry and Sammy watched the interview, which was aired in New Lake City earlier.

"They think our boy is a murderer," said Barry. He ran to the back. Roshondi was dancing in his grass skirt around Nick.

"Quit that crap, son," yelled Barry. "Nick, get your ass in here, right now."

"But Roshondi is driving away the evil demons," said Nick.

"You got a lot more to worry about than demons. Come in here." Nick went inside and saw the news report.

"...And the song, Love Blender, was released today. An investigation will be put into place to see if this was all a publicity ploy, or an actual murder has taken place."

"I can't believe it," said the shocked Nick.

"About the murder?" asked Barry.

"No, I can't believe they released Love Blender as the first single. I wrote that song in five minutes as a filler track for their album. It sucks."

"But they think he might have been murdered."

"They _think_ he was murdered?" asked Nick.

Barry looked at Nick. "What do you know about this?"

Nick remembered his dream and tried to act innocent. "Uh, nothing. I just know they found him dead."

"You can tell me, son. I won't turn you in or anything like that. I'm sure you had a good reason to kill him." Barry was willing to help Nick, no matter what he did.

"Damn it, I didn't kill anybody. I don't have any idea why that detective is following me around."

"You think somebody is trying to set you up?"

"I don't know – maybe. Wait a second. I know what it is. It's that donor card I signed. Carlos Verona's son needs an organ transplant and they want mine. That detective works for Carlos. He's not really a cop. He's a mobster. He wants my liver."

"Did you say Carlos Verona?" asked Sammy.

"Yeah. He's after me." Nick was hyperventilating.

"You better sit down for this one, boy," said Sammy.

"I don't want to sit down. What if they're at the front door right now?" A sudden knock was heard at the front door. "You see? He's here. I need a baseball bat," yelled Nick.

"I'll get it," said Shanice. "It's probably one of the local kids selling cookies." She opened the door and was correct.

"Hi," said the little girl. "Would you like to buy some cookies to help our school?"

"Sure," said Shanice. "What kind do you have?"

"We have chocolate chip, shortbread, vanilla cream, and a brand new kind."

"What would that be?" asked Shanice.

"Devil's food," said the little girl, with a sweet, innocent smile.

"Shut the door, Shanice," hollered Nick.

"Nick, it's just a little girl."

"That's how they all start out."

"Don't be ridiculous, Nick." She turned back to the girl. "I'll take four boxes of Devil's food."

"Not you, too?" cried Nick.

"Sit down and shut up, you crazy cracker," said Barry.

"Maybe I shouldn't tell him this story," said Sammy.

"Is it about Carlos Verona?" asked Nick.

"Are you sure you want to hear this, boy?" asked a cautious Sammy.

"No, but you might as well go ahead. It can't be worse than me freaking out over a little girl selling cookies."

Nick sat on the couch across from Sammy and started normal breathing.

"Okay, here it goes," said Sammy. "Your father stole your mother away right from under another man's nose. I probably already told you about that part. The thing is, that man stole your mother away from someone else."

"Just how many men had my mother been involved with?"

"Hang on, son. Let me finish my story. She was the girlfriend of this short, pudgy, Italian, fellow. He was a gangster wannabe. He was so happy to have such a beautiful girlfriend hanging on his arm when he came to the club. I could tell your mother wasn't too interested by the way she would always talk to other men when he would leave her for a few minutes. One night, that Bill character made a move on her. I guess she was interested. Her boyfriend came back to the table and screamed at Bill to leave. Your mother told Bill to stay. She started yelling at her boyfriend about how he was a low-life, pretend gangster. She said she was tired of his jealous ways and told him to leave her alone. He didn't like that too much. He challenged Bill to go outside and settle the dispute man-to-man. Bill knew he could kick the little Italian's butt so he took the challenge. He came back without a scratch and started seeing your mother from that point on."

"Please don't tell me that little Italian was Carlos Verona," begged Nick.

"Don't mean to burst your bubble – but it was."

"Oh – my – God!" exclaimed Nick.

"My mother dated the man who's out to kill me."

"You don't know that Carlos is out to get you," said Barry.

"Oh yeah? Well, I thought it was because of the donor card, but now it's probably because my mom dumped him."

"Yeah, he didn't take that very well," said Sammy. "Back in those days, Chicago had a lot of people trying to become the next Al Capone. Carlos was one of them. I've got a few friends in the business that keep me updated on these clowns, at least the ones who are still living. Carlos moved away from Chicago right after that happened. He married some woman who he didn't really love. She just had nice tits and she looked good next to him. He ended up in New Lake City. He must have figured out that New Lake didn't have any other organized crime competition and would be a good place to hang out. I hear he's doing well. His wife gained a bunch of pounds and her tits don't look too good anymore. He still has a place in his heart for your mother. I'm sure he's still holding some kind of grudge"

"How do you know all this?" asked Nick.

"Like I said, I got connections," said Sammy. "I also know about his son, Frank. The boy needs a new liver and he's way down on the list for transplants. You have every right to be afraid, son. That man is evil."

"Would you like me to resume my evil spirit dance?" asked Roshondi.

"I don't think that'll help," said Nick. "I'm sure that detective works for Carlos. If he found me on the lake, I'm sure he could find me here."

"What time is your plane supposed to leave tomorrow?" asked Shanice.

"I think at ten a.m."

"If you'd like, I could pull some strings and get you out of here tonight."

"That would be great. I think I'd be a lot safer in New Orleans."

"Oh, yeah," said Sammy. "There's no evil in that town."

"Give the boy a break, you old buzzard," said Barry. "The boy's got enough problems without you making him all paranoid and crap like that."

"Quit calling me old buzzard, you old fool."

"I'm a fool for staying friends with you, you old buzzard."

"I think I can get you out of here right now," said Shanice.

"Thank you," said Nick.

Shanice made all the arrangements. They ate a quick meal and Barry drove Nick to the airport, stopping by his hotel to get his luggage. Nick thanked Barry for all his hospitality. He had to wait thirty minutes for his plane, so he stopped at one of the airport bars to get a drink. After ordering a scotch on the rocks, he looked up at the television over the bar and saw it was on CNN. He saw Zipper Down's funeral, Pizza Guy beating on a drum set, and Benny, with his arm around Julie Templeton. She looked familiar to Nick even though he'd never seen the BreastMaster commercials. He just couldn't believe he was seeing Benny next to a blazing hot woman so soon after the Kat fiasco. Love Blender was blaring in the background. He changed his order to three doubles.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: _Getting Some_

Harold took Andie to El Muchacho, a cozy little Mexican restaurant near the lake. After dinner, they enjoyed the music of Chaz Reed, a local solo artist, who was strumming his acoustic guitar in the bar area.

"He's quite good," said Andie.

"Yeah," acknowledged Harold. "You seem a little preoccupied tonight. Is anything wrong?"

"No. I just have work on my mind. How about a couple of margaritas?"

"Good idea. That'll get your mind off work." The waitress brought the margaritas to the table. Andie took one sip as Harold engulfed his whole drink in five gulps.

"Bring me another one," he yelled to the waitress.

"Boy, you really must have had a bad day," said Andie.

"You could say that," said Harold. Harold drank his second drink a little slower. They saw a woman walk up to Chaz and request a song.

"It looks like I have a request, ladies and gentlemen," said Chaz. "But, I'm sorry – I'm going to keep on singing anyway." The audience laughed. "Okay, I haven't sung this song in a while. Let me give it a try. You guys bear with me now." He started strumming his guitar with a little shuffle rhythm. "Pardon me if I mess up the words – here it goes – get ready – I'm not kidding..."

"Sing the damn song, already," yelled a patron from the back.

"I see my mother came here tonight," said Chaz, as he kept on strumming. "Okay – here it is."

Chaz started singing the classic song. All was well until he got to the part of the song and sang, "You're sixteen, you're beautiful, and you're mine."

Harold's jaw dropped. "Let's get out of here," he said to Andie, as he grabbed her by the arm.

"No need to leave so fast, sir," Chaz said into the microphone, between the verses, "I'm sure this one is a little older than sixteen."

The audience laughed, as Harold dragged Andie out the door.

"What is wrong with you?" asked Andie. "I was having a good time."

"The music was too loud. Why don't we go back to your place and get quiet?"

Andie settled down. "Okay. I guess I can't argue with logic like that. Let's go."

Andie didn't care about the way he was acting. She was ready for some serous playtime.

Debbie stumbled to her mark on the stage. She stared at her cast mate, and her mind went blank.

"Debbie, sweetheart," said Donovan. "Please say your line."

"Your line," replied Debbie.

"No, say the line you're supposed to be saying."

"The line you're supposed..."

"No, no. Please – recite – your – line." I can't believe she's doing this again, he thought.

"Which one?" asked Debbie.

"The line – which you –are supposed – to be – reciting – now."

"What kind of director are you? How the hell am I supposed to know what you're thinking?"

Donovan glared at her for a few seconds. "Debbie – are you drunk?"

"I don't know. Are you?"

"Please come down off the stage."

"But I like it here."

"Get off the goddamn stage right now."

"Okay. You don't have to be so ugly about it." Debbie tripped down the steps. She got up, dusted herself off, and walked up to Donovan.

"What makes you think I drink have been having?" she slurred.

Donovan stepped back as her breath almost knocked him over. "Why in the Helen Hunt are you getting drunk right before a rehearsal?"

"I'm not drunk, ociffer," said the swaying Debbie.

"Do you want to be in this production?" asked Donovan.

"Do you want to kiss my ass?" laughed Debbie.

"That's it. Get away from me. I don't ever want to see you around any production of mine."

"What are you trying to say?" asked Debbie.

"I'm not trying to say anything. I have already said it."

"You're kind of confusing me, Donny boy. Let me get back up there and take it from the top." She started crawling up the steps to the stage.

"Tommy," said Donovan, to one of the stagehands, "Please call that woman a cab and get her out of my sight."

Debbie was back on the stage. "Friends, Romans, countrymen – lend me your rears," she recited, as Tommy, the stagehand, dragged her away.

Carlos was having dinner at home with his wife, Isabella, Frank, and Gina.

"How you feeling today, son?"

"Not too good, Papa," said Frank. "I'm feeling kinda weak."

"Don't worry. Your Papa's gonna take care of you. And you, Gina – you had a good time last night?"

"Yes, Uncle Carlos," said Gina. "I really like Walls."

"Who the hell is Walls? I thought you went out with Harold."

"I call him Walls. I don't like the name Harold."

"I guess I can't blame you. You want to see him again?"

"I sure would."

"How about tonight?"

"That would be great."

"Okay. I'll call and get him for you. I need to talk to that Grimes guy tonight, anyway." He looked over to his wife. "What you lookin' at?"

"It would be nice if you would ask me how my day was," said Isabella.

Carlos asked, in a half-hearted manner, "Okay, how was your day – dear?"

"It was terrible. The maid was late and I had to call a cab to get to the beauty parlor, since Frank was joy riding with the limo driver all day, and..."

Carlos' mind drifted off to the two women who turned him down for dinner earlier.

"Yes, dear – that's nice dear."

Tony showed up at the auditorium in the middle of rehearsal. He saw Debbie's car in the parking lot, but didn't see her on stage. He walked up to Donovan and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir, but where is Deborah?"

Donovan turned around and saw Tony.

"Cut," he yelled to the cast. "What in the Helena Bohnam Carter do you want? Can't you see we're trying to have a rehearsal?"

"I beg your pardon, sir, but I am trying to find Deborah Bailey. She is starring in this production."

"Was," said Donovan. "She's out. O-U-T, out. I don't ever want to see her drunk ass in my presence ever again."

"Excuse me, sir, but did you call her a drunk ass?"

"In so many words – yes."

"Then you leave me with no choice." Tony punched Donovan square in the nose and knocked him out cold. "Nobody – I mean nobody – talks about my little fettuccine like that." He turned and walked away.

Benny and Julie were having supper at Little Italy. Photographers were having a field day, snapping at Julie from all angles.

"Aren't you a little annoyed?" asked Julie.

"Actually, I think it's kind of neat," said Benny. "I figured you'd be used to all this by now."

"I never got used to this part. I love performing. I just don't like the part where you have to practically give up your private life."

"Excuse me a second," said Benny. He got up from his chair and yelled at the photographers, "Will you please leave us alone for a while? We're trying to have a nice, quiet dinner." Julie was impressed. The cameras quit clicking and the lights stopped flashing.

"That was quite a display. Thank you, Benny."

Benny was surprised at himself. "No problem. It's my job to keep you happy."

She smiled, "And what a good job of that you're doing."

Benny couldn't believe how well things were going.

"Oh, I almost totally forgot. Did you see the news this evening?" asked Julie.

"No. Why?"

"Right before you picked me up, I saw a report on CNN about some detective tracking down a suspected murderer in Chicago."

"I don't mean to sound uninterested, Julie, but right now, I'm not interested in some murder suspect in Chicago."

"But the reporter said it was the suspect in the Zipper Down case."

"Wait a second. You saw this on CNN?"

"Yeah, right before you picked me up."

"What else did he say?"

"This is the best part. He said the murder suspect worked for Apocalypse Records."

"What?" asked the startled Benny.

"They said the suspect..."

"Yeah, I heard that part. Did they say who it was?"

"Calm down, Benny. They didn't give a name."

"They didn't say Kat's name?"

"Benny, you're making a scene - and who's Kat?"

"She's the woman who's been riding around in my car, stole Debbie's boyfriend, and killed Zipper Down." The photographers got up from their positions and started snapping again.

"Can we leave now, Benny?" said Julie, as she tried to hide her face.

"Oh God, this can't be happening," cried Benny. Julie grabbed Benny and led him to his car. They jumped in and headed towards Julie's hotel.

"What came over you back there, Benny?"

"I'm sorry, Julie." Benny regained his composure. "You see - my ex-girlfriend left a party with Zipper Down the night he died. She's driving my Lexus because, like an idiot, I gave it to her. She was driving around town with the boyfriend of Debbie, who is a good friend of mine. I bet she left town and the police are after her." He looked in the rearview mirror and saw the reporters following them.

"So, Zipper Down _was_ murdered," replied Julie.

"Apparently."

"This is going to be great publicity."

"What about me?"

"You don't have anything to worry about, Benny. If this Kat is the murderer, just think of all the free publicity we'll get."

"What if I'm implicated in the murder because of the car - or because we were dating up until the moment she decided to leave the party with Zipper?"

"Did you kill him?"

"Of course not."

"Then you have nothing to worry about."

"You sure are confident."

"You have to be in this business. That's why I decided to hook up with you. You have a grip on this industry."

Benny turned onto the freeway to try to lose the paparazzi. "You call this freaking out having control?"

"You're not freaking out, Benny. Look at this. You're escaping photographers and reporters like it's nothing."

He looked in the rearview and realized he out-ran the whole bunch. He got off at the next exit, one shy of the one he needed. "I'll just take the side road to the hotel. Sorry about that." He had no idea how fast and elusive he was driving.

"No need to be sorry. You're doing a fantastic job," said Julie, as she reached over and started to massage the back of his neck. Benny pulled in at the front entrance of Hotel Rollins.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow. I'll pick you up at eight so we can finish the filming."

"You're not coming up?" asked Julie.

A little surprised, Benny said, "No, you need your rest."

"I can rest later," she said with a smile. "Are you suggesting I come up to your room with you?"

"I'm not suggesting. I'm flat-out asking."

"Okay, I guess." Benny was nervous beyond belief. He was escorting this gorgeous celebrity around to the service elevator to avoid being seen. Apocalypse had the penthouse suite reserved for Julie. It was magnificent. The eighteenth floor window had a great view of the moonlit sky.

"Great room," said Benny.

"You guys sure know how to treat a lady," said Julie. "Can I fix you a drink?"

"Sure. I'll take a wine spritzer."

"You're not a big drinker, are you?"

"I guess not."

"I like that in a man. It shows you have a lot of self-confidence."

Nobody had ever described Benny in that way - at least to his face. He was in the hotel room of a genuine goddess. Please, don't let me screw up this one, he thought to himself. Julie brought Benny the drink and sat next to him on the sofa.

"You know, Benny, I hope you don't think I'm being too forward, but I think you and I could make a great partnership."

"Partnership? What do you mean?"

"I mean with all your knowledge of the industry and my talent, we could make something real big."

Benny's bubble was burst for a second. How stupid I was for thinking this could turn out to be something more than a business partnership, he thought.

"Yeah, this could turn out to be real profitable," he said.

Julie inched closer to Benny. "We could produce a fantastic entertainment package."

"Yeah, we could."

She moved even closer. "You could have me in music videos."

"Yeah." Benny changed back into business mode.

"You could have me making an album," she said, as she slithered within inches of Benny.

"Yeah, of course, providing you have a decent singing voice."

"You could have me acting in movies," she said, as her voice got a little softer.

"Yeah. I think I could come up with the necessary connections."

She moved up to him her thigh was touching his. She whispered in his ear, "You could have me."

Benny was oblivious to Julie's attempt at seduction. "Go on. I could have you where?"

She started nibbling his ear. "You silly man. You could have me right here and now."

Benny jumped up from the couch. "Wait a second. Are you coming on to me?"

"I sure am trying." Julie was displaying a seductive grin.

"What about our business relationship?"

"I know how to mix business with pleasure."

"Are you sure?"

"Benny, one thing I know is that when I want something bad enough, I can get it. All I have to do is be persistent. Is it working?"

"Darn right, it is," said Benny, as he joined Julie on the couch and started kissing her.

Julie backed off. "What was your ex-girlfriend's name?"

"It's, um - I can't think of it." Benny was hyperventilating.

"That's all I needed to know," said Julie, as she grabbed Benny by the arm and led him into the bedroom.

"Wait a second," said Benny, trying to catch his breath. "I didn't bring any condoms."

"Don't worry," said Julie. "I always carry one. You can't be too careful these days."

Harold's arm was also being led into a bedroom, this one belonging to Andie. Andie threw him on the bed and jumped on top of him.

"You're not getting out of this one," she said.

"Hopefully, I'll be getting into this one," he said, as he reached down between her legs. To his delight, Andie wasn't wearing anything underneath her dress.

"Do me right now, lover," moaned Andie. She reached down and pulled off her dress. She was naked as she straddled Harold. "We need to get these clothes off you."

"Gladly," replied Harold, as he drooled at the sight of her gorgeous body. Andie ripped off the shirt, popping four of the buttons. She pulled off the belt, and then undid the button on his slacks. She grabbed two of the belt loops and pulled his pants off, revealing a pair of boxers. She smiled as she noticed the erection making a tent. Just as she grabbed the elastic band of the boxers to pull them off, Harold's pager went off.

"Don't you dare answer it," said Andie.

"I have to," said Harold. "Please don't lose this position."

"I can't believe you're actually going to answer that page," said Andie, as she rolled off Harold. He pulled the pager from his pants pocket. It was Peter's number followed by 911.

"Andie, I'm so sorry. It's Peter Grimes. I have to call him right away."

Andie was noticing a pattern beginning. "Okay, I'll wait right here."

Harold limped to the front room to call Peter. "What's the problem?"

"Carlos is on his way over here right now," said Peter. "He's getting a little upset about this whole Zipper Down mess. He heard Elderberry on the news."

"Well, there's nothing I can do about it right now," said Harold.

"Oh, yes there is. He wants you to take out Gina again tonight."

"No way. I'm not going near that..." he realized where he was and lowered his voice, "little monster again."

"You have to. We have to keep Carlos happy."

"Do you realize where I am and what I'm about to do?"

"Could it be that you're at Andie's apartment and you're about to screw her?"

"You hit it right on the head."

"Well, have her do the same and get your ass over to Carlos' house. He's expecting you to pick up Gina in thirty minutes."

"But..."

"No buts on this one. Get over there – now." Harold put down the phone. His erection was long gone as he walked back into the bedroom. Andie had the covers pulled up to her neck.

"I have to go," said a dejected Harold.

"I figured that," said a frustrated Andie.

"It's Peter. He needs me take care of a problem that can't wait until morning. If you'd like, I could come over later."

"Don't bother. Take care of your little problem and I'll see you tomorrow." She pulled Atticus Finch from the floor and held him tight. Harold walked up to Andie to give her a kiss. She turned her head as his kiss landed on her cheek.

"Thank God for the BreastMaster," said Benny, as he watched Julie strip right in front of him.

"You are so funny," said Julie. She crawled on top of him in the bed and started kissing him when a knock was heard at the front door.

"Don't you want to see who it is?" asked Benny.

"Do you?" asked Julie.

"Not particularly."

"Then don't worry about it." Benny's clothes were coming off, as the knock became more persistent.

"Why don't you let me get rid of whoever that is," said Benny. He grabbed the robe hanging on the doorknob. He walked to the front door, opened it, and was greeted to the sight of flashing lights, cameras, and tape recorders.

"Is Kat Barrett the suspect in the murder?" asked one reporter.

"Is Nicholas Pelter the one?" asked another.

"Are you sleeping with Julie Templeton?" asked a third.

"When will the video be released?" asked a fourth.

"Are her breasts real?" asked the last one.

Benny slammed the door shut and called hotel security. He walked back into the bedroom, crawled into bed with Julie, and smiled.

"Who was that?" asked Julie.

"Nobody," said Benny, as he began to kiss the most exciting woman he had ever seen.

"A bunch of reporters, right?" asked Julie.

"Yeah."

"You are really learning how to handle all this. I'm so proud of – oh, my God. That's the spot. Don't stop." Two hours later, Julie and Benny came out of the bedroom, dripping in sweat. They sat on the sofa together, drinking water.

"That – was absolutely amazing," said an exhausted Julie.

"I'm glad you liked it," said Benny.

"Liked it? I loved it." Benny was gleaming.

"Do you want to go at it again?"

"You've got to be kidding."

He gave her a wicked smile, "No, I'm not."

"What time is our video shoot tomorrow?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm in charge, so it'll start as soon as we get there."

Julie grinned. "Okay, but you know what we have to do first."

"Sure," said Benny. "Why don't you jump in the shower, I'll make the call and then I'll join you."

Julie gave him a kiss and skipped to the shower. Benny made a call to the front desk.

"Hi, this is Benny Myers in the Penthouse Suite. Could you send a dozen condoms to the room ASAP? Yes, I know a six-pack was provided with the room. We found them in the drawer next to the bed, but we seem to have run out. Thank you – oh, and one other thing – make sure those reporters in the lobby spell the name right. It's M-Y-E-R-S. Thanks."

Elderberry had tracked down Shanice's address. He knocked at the door. He was greeted to the sight of a five-foot, four-inch tall African man, wearing a full-face mask and jumping up and down in a grass skirt.

"Be gone, evil demon," yelled Roshondi. He let out a yell at the top of his voice.

"Look, mister," said an unfazed Gerome. "I like dressing up in a skirt as much as the next guy, but I don't go around yelling mumbo-jumbo. Where is Nicholas Pel-tire?"

Roshondi was confused. "I do not understand. The demon dance always works, yet, you are still standing before me."

"Put a lid on it, Bwana," said Gerome. "Where is that Pel-tire?"

Shanice came to the door. "How can I help you?"

"First, you can call off the floor show. I've had all the entertainment I can take for one week. Next, you can tell me where Nicholas Pel-tire is."

"He's on his way to Los Angeles," said Shanice.

"Los Angeles? When in the hell did he leave?"

"He just took the last flight out."

"Well, I happen to know you're wrong, sister. I have Pel-tire's itinerary and it shows he's leaving for New Orleans tomorrow morning."

"You're more than welcome to check it out yourself. I work for American Airlines. Let me call the airport for you." She called. "Hello, John? This is Shanice. I have a police officer here that's looking for Nicholas Peltier. Can you talk to him?" She handed the phone to Gerome.

"This is Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry of the New Lake City Homicide division. This is official business. I need to know where Nicholas Pel-tire is."

"Let me see here," said John. "You know we're really not supposed to do this unless I have proof of identification from a law officer. I'm doing this as a favor to Shanice."

"Yeah, yeah. Spare me the sentiment and just tell me where the hell Pel-tire is."

"He took flight 2369 out to Los Angeles, which left twenty-five minutes ago."

"Goddamn it," yelled Gerome. "Why is that little shit going to LA?"

"Please don't use that kind of language in the presence of my wife," said Roshondi.

"Back off, Bwana Boy," said Gerome. "Can you get me on a flight with some goddamn other airline?" he said to John.

"I do not like the tone in which you are speaking," said Roshondi.

"Look, I'm warning you," he said to Roshondi. "I'm on official goddamn business here."

"Don't do it, honey," said Shanice.

"Don't do what?" asked Elderberry, just as he felt the strong grip of two hands grabbing his ankles. Roshondi started spinning him around the room, knocking over a lamp and coat-rack. He threw Elderberry out the door, which was still open.

"Do not ever show your face in our presence," yelled Roshondi, as he slammed the door. Shanice opened it right after.

"If you really want to go to LA this evening, United has a flight that leaves in ninety minutes. You can make it, if you hurry."

"Thank you – I think," said Gerome. He got up and hopped into the waiting cab.

"Get me to O'Hare – pronto," he said to the cabby. The cab driver stared at the beat-up Elderberry. "What the goddamn hells are you looking at? Just drive the goddamn cab."

"Wouldn't you like to put on your pants first?" asked the cabby. Gerome didn't notice that when Roshondi tossed him, he had grabbed the cuffs of the pants and held on to them as he tossed him out the door. He looked back at the house and saw Roshondi standing outside, holding the pants. Gerome crept back to the house and grabbed the pants from Roshondi.

"Perhaps you would rather wear this skirt," laughed Roshondi, as he watched Elderberry stumble, trying to put on his pants while running back to the cab.

Meanwhile, Nick was settling down in his first class seat, on his way to New Orleans.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: _The Godfather XVI_

Harold pulled up to Carlos Verona's driveway. The security guards at the front gate checked him out and let him through. He arrived at the house, which was more like an extravagant mansion. He walked to the front door rang the bell. Instead of hearing a ring, Harold heard the first twelve notes of Speak Softly Love (Love Theme from the Godfather).

The door flung open and an excited Gina greeted him. She jumped on him, wrapping her legs around his waist, and gave him a huge kiss.

"What are you doing?" asked Harold. "Isn't your uncle home?"

"He sure is," said Carlos, as he walked into the front foyer. "I notice the display of affection my Gina is showing you. You must really be showing her a good time."

"Not that good of a time," said Harold. "I swear it." He made Gina get off him.

"Don't worry, Harold. I know no man in his right mind would have sex with the sixteen-year old niece of a prominent businessman like myself. You keep on showing her a good time. I have to leave. I have a meeting with Grimes at his office."

"Yes, sir," said Harold, as Carlos walked past them.

"You heard my uncle," said Gina. "You need to keep on showing me a good time." She licked his ear as she grabbed his crotch.

"I'm a dead man," said Harold.

Debbie had tried to start packing for her trip, but passed out on her bed before she could finish. She didn't hear the phone ringing.

"I guess she's not there," Andie said to herself, as she hung up the phone. She really needed to talk to a friend. She hadn't talked to Nick since Tuesday, but thought it would be uncomfortable talking to him about Harold. She called Benny's house and got his answering machine. "Hi, Benny, it's Andie. Just wanted to talk. Call me when you get a chance." She opened the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out her all-too familiar vibrator.

"This is O'Malley, sir," Jamie spoke into the phone. "I just got a call from Motabi in Chicago. Peltier is heading to New Orleans and Elderberry should be headed for LA – I know it's getting rather complicated. I'm still waiting for them to make some kind of move – Yes, sir, today on CNN – Okay, I'll do what I can – Thank you, sir. You do the same."

"A vodka sour," said Carlos, to Peter. "Easy on the sour." Peter made the drink and handed it to Carlos. He drank it down in three gulps.

"Would you like another?" asked Peter. He could tell by the way Carlos guzzled down the first one that this would be a difficult meeting.

"Yes, and while you're at it, you can come up with the solution to this mess we're in."

"Carlos, we're not in that much of a mess," assured Peter.

"Oh yeah? We got that pansy-ass detective on to us and it's all over the national news."

"He's not on to us. He's on to Apocalypse."

"You're right. He's on to you guys. The deal was to leave me out of it."

"Also, we still don't know who this O'Malley woman works for."

"So you're admitting you screwed up?" asked Carlos.

"No, on the contrary. If they think someone at the record company was responsible for the murder, we're not tied to it at all. And honestly, Carlos, we had nothing to do with the death of Zipper Down. If the person who put O'Malley in place had something do with the possible murder, I'll make sure that situation is taken care of. Nothing illegal will be tied to this firm or you. I promise."

"You know, I bought the company for you guys as part of the deal."

"Well, somehow, some other players got into the game."

"I don't like this."

"Don't you see, Carlos? We won't be in the picture. I can draw up papers in five minutes detaching me from the holding company I own. It's been set up as an escape option just in case something like this would happen. These so-called new owners will be in a huge mess with a murder trial hanging over their heads. In fact, I can wipe out all traces of my ownership of the company and we can actually represent them."

"Wouldn't that be defeating the purpose?" asked Carlos.

"Not if we throw the case," said Peter.

"That would be shrewd, unethical, and illegal. I like it."

"Another thing – I think it's time. People are becoming suspicious."

"No. I want him to continue suffering. I got him where I want him."

"He will. I've arranged a little accident. No bodies will be found."

"How did you manage that?"

"Wainwright's chartered plane will be leaving Africa sometime tomorrow. There will be personal belongings, but, of course, no body."

"How will you get the plane up there?"

"Remote control. We have a contact there that's arranged a flight plan, and a pilot-less plane. The plane has an ejection seat for the pilot, who won't be on board since he doesn't exist. Wainwright's seatbelt will become broken on impact, making it look as if he was thrown from the plane."

"Are you sure this will work?"

"Positive. All the news networks will be notified about the crash and an all-out search will be ordered. Of course, no bodies will be found."

"And Wainwright will be presumed dead."

"Exactly."

"I like it."

"And the media coverage will overshadow the Zipper Down murder situation, leaving us with the time to arrange all the outs."

"How's the list coming along?"

"Just three more ahead of Frank," said Peter.

"You know," said Carlos, "being a businessman like myself, I have a certain reputation to live up to. It's very important that no deaths are associated with my organization or me. We must be careful."

"It's all under control," said Peter. "Nobody is going to actually die."

Carlos strolled to the window and glanced at the scenery. "This is a beautiful city. It would be nice to get it on the map, you know, maybe get a NFL or NBA franchise. I want it to grow to be big enough for something like that. I could build another university so my Frank can get an education like he's supposed to get. Those bastards at Rollins University don't understand Frank. He's a smart kid. He just doesn't apply himself the way they want him to. Maybe I can expand the airport and take away business from Dallas and Denver. This could be the next major hub. I'm going to control this city soon, but it don't mean much if I don't have my Frank to leave it to."

"I understand," said Peter.

"Come here. Look at this view." Carlos pointed to the downtown skyline, which was lit up in all its glory. "Ain't it beautiful?"

"It sure is," said Peter.

Carlos looked down at the street below. "Look at this," he said, as he pointed down. "You see that convertible down there?"

Peter looked and recognized Harold's car. "Yes, sir."

"It looks like that couple is screwing right there, while they're trying to drive."

"That's just your imagination," said Peter, trying to divert Carlos' attention.

"I know what I see. Are you calling me a liar?"

"Absolutely not," said Peter. "If you think you see a couple having sex in a car right below us, then I'm sure that's what it is."

As the car rolled out of sight, Carlos asked, "What kind of man is that Harold?"

"He's great, sir. Loyal, dedicated..."

"No, not that. I mean do you think he would try something like that with my Gina?"

"No way, sir. He's a very respectable gentleman."

"That's good. I would hate to have to kill him. I don't like that kind of thing. That's why I hired you guys. However, if someone messes with my family, I don't mind doing the deed myself."

Peter started sweating. "I can understand that, sir."

"Will you please get off me, Gina?" screamed Harold, as he swerved through traffic.

"I'm trying to get off on you," she said.

At New Orleans International, Nick's plane landed. Since he was a night early, his hotel room wasn't pre-arranged. He checked himself into a nearby Holiday Inn. He settled into his room and turned on the TV.

"And in New Lake City," said the newscaster, "Zipper Down was laid to rest."

Mark Samberg was there, covering the story. "It wasn't your normal funeral," said Mark Samberg. "The film crew making a video overshadowed the services. The eulogy was disrupted when Julie Templeton, the BreastMaster model, entered the church. Miss Templeton was in town making a video for The Cramping Violets. Her appearance caused the cameras to start clicking and reporters to start running as you can see here."

Nick saw Benny standing right next to Julie. "I feel like I'm in an episode of The Twilight Zone. Why does that girl look so familiar?" Nick said to himself. He had never seen the commercials for BreastMaster so he knew it had to be from another source. He turned off the TV and reached for the radio. Love Blender was playing. He turned it off, drank the little bottles of bourbon he got from the plane, and went to sleep.

Gerome Elderberry stepped off his plane at LAX and was met by a slew of reporters.

"Is the murderer here in Los Angeles?" asked one.

"Is Apocalypse Records involved?" asked another.

"How did such a good-looking man become such a great detective?" asked a third.

Elderberry looked at the third reporter after the question. He was a gorgeous man, who was giving him a meaningful smile.

"I'll only answer one question," said Gerome, as he pointed towards the man.

"Have you been to LA before?" asked the man.

"No, I haven't. Would you be so kind as to show me around?" asked Gerome.

"I'd be honored," replied the handsome reporter.

"No more questions," Gerome said to the other reporters. "I have lots of work to do."

"My name is Lance Miller," said the reporter, as he shook Gerome's hand. "I'm a reporter for the LA Times. I can show you around if you'll help me with my story."

"You understand I'm tracking down a murder suspect, don't you?"

"Of course I do. That's what my story is about."

"Well, as long as it doesn't hamper my investigation," said Gerome.

"I'm sure we'll get along fine, Lieutenant Elderberry," said Lance.

"Please, call me Gerome," he said.

"Thank you, Gerome. I would offer to take you out to dinner, but I realize you have a lot of work to do, so I'll..."

"Work can wait until morning," said Gerome. "I'm hungry. You can take me anywhere you'd like." Elderberry was exhausted and lost his guard. The attention from a polite, interesting, and good-looking man was enough to make him lose his focus.

"Okay. You get your luggage and I'll meet you by the baggage claim exit. I have to make a quick call." He watched Elderberry smile and trot away. Lance went to the nearest pay phone. "He's here. You won't have to worry about him for a few days," Lance said into the receiver.

"Great job. Keep in touch," said Jamie. As she hung up the phone, she said, "I finally found his weakness."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: _Andie Learns the Game_

Andie walked into her office the next morning. She called Debbie's desk, but didn't get an answer. She saw Harold walk by, looking incapacitated. She was about to go after him when her phone rang.

"Jenson," she said.

"Morning, Andie," said Peter. "Can you come up to my office right away?"

"Yes, sir. I'll be right up." She found it strange that Ms. Vanderhousen wasn't making the call herself. Peter never made direct calls to any of the attorneys. She met up with Harold in the elevator.

"Well, it seems like we've been in this situation before," said Andie. Harold's appearance reminded her of Nick.

"Except this time, I'm the one who's a mess and you're the one looking spectacular," said Harold.

"You really must have had a late one last night."

"I'm so sorry, Andie. Peter is killing me with this assignment."

"It sure looks like he is." Andie was sympathetic and understanding – not great qualities to have in this law firm.

"I know you're angry with me, and you have every right to be, but..."

"You don't have to apologize, Harold. I'm not angry. It's just bad timing. I'm a big girl. I can handle it."

"Do you think that maybe tonight we can try to be alone again?"

Andie took a deep breath. She looked at Harold in his dejected state and started feeling sorry for him.

"Okay – we can give it another try."

"Great," said a smiling Harold. "Why don't we go someplace out of town where we don't have to worry about being interrupted?" The elevator door opened, but Andie hit the close button.

"Why don't we get away together for the whole weekend?"

"Really?" The thought of getting away sounded like heaven to Harold.

"Yeah. I won a weekend trip to New Orleans a few months ago from a drawing at the concierge. I just hadn't had anyone to go with me – until now." She moved close to Harold and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "What do you think?"

"I think that's a wonderful idea. I'll just have to clear it with Peter."

"You can ask him yourself right now. I happen to know he's in his office. I'm on my way to see him."

"He wanted to see you?"

"Yes. You seem surprised."

"No, of course not. Why wouldn't he want to see you? You're working on a case for our top client," Harold said, as he backpedalled.

"I can't wait to tell Debbie about our trip. She'll be so excited."

"Uh – Debbie won't be at her desk today. I – um – have her working on an assignment for me this morning and I gave her the rest of the day off."

"That's okay. I'll call her later." They walked up to Peter's office. Ursula wasn't behind her desk. She never left it. She would eat her lunch there everyday. She would be there before Peter came to work and wouldn't leave until he did.

"I wonder where Ms. Vanderhousen is?" asked Andie. "I heard she hasn't missed a day of work in ten years."

"That is kind of strange," said Harold. He knocked on Peter's door.

"Come in," said Peter. He was surprised to see Harold walking in with Andie.

"Harold – what a pleasant surprise – I mean, to see you with Andie. I'm glad to see things are going well."

"Good morning, Mr. Grimes," said Andie. "Harold has something he needs to ask you."

Peter looked at Harold, who was stalling. "Yes, Harold?"

"Would you mind if I take the whole weekend off?" Harold asked, sounding like a kid, talking to his dad.

"I don't see why not," said Peter.

"You've been working hard all week." He gave Harold a knowing wink.

"Thank you, sir. Andie and I are going to New Orleans for the weekend."

"Great city. I haven't been there in a few years. You two have a great time."

"Will it cause a conflict in my assignment?" asked Harold.

"Not at all. I think your assignment is making her way back to San Diego today. Go ahead and take the rest of the weekend off" Harold gave Peter a dirty look, as Andie looked at him with a confused stare.

"What do you mean his assignment making her way back to San Diego?" she asked.

"Uh – Peter had me doing some legal research for Carlos Verona's Aunt Regina the last few nights. She's from San Diego."

"Well, good. You need a break from this extra work. That extra assignment has been putting a cramp in our life."

"Oh, I'm sure he's been getting cramps," said Peter. Harold sneered towards Peter as he walked out the room.

"I'll talk to you later, Andie. Thank you, Peter." He had another word in mind.

"Well, Andie. You sure have loosened up the past few days. Carlos and I are sincerely impressed at the work you did in the Little Italy case." Grimes walked from behind his desk and walked towards Andie.

"Mr. Grimes, I want you to know that I have your wife's number on speed dial."

Peter stopped his stroll towards her. "My, we sure are covering all the bases, aren't we?"

"That's what I get paid to do, sir."

"Okay. I understand. This is strictly business – just like it's always been."

"If you say so, sir. By the way, where is Ms. Vanderhousen?"

"The strangest thing. She called and said she had a family emergency to take care of and needed a few days off. She's never missed a day before in all her ten years working for Mr. Wainwright and myself."

"So her legend is true?"

"Sure is."

"You sure are fortunate to have such loyal associates working for you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He walked to the cabinet containing his precious high-end bourbon collection. He poured two glasses of Canadian Club Reserve and waked back towards Andie.

"I want you to consider me one of the loyal ones. I can't say that I like the way you are as a person, but I respect you as an attorney and founding partner of this firm," said Andie.

Peter smiled. "That's really nice of you to say – I think."

"I just want you to continue sending cases my way so I can prove my value to this firm."

"That's what I'm doing, Andie – Oh, wait. I'm sorry. I'm not supposed to call you Andie," he said.

"It's okay, sir. You can call me Andie." She gave him a smile.

"Thank you, Andie. I like to keep things on an informal basis. I deal with a lot of stuffy people. It's nice to be able to relate to my people in a friendly manner." He handed Andie a glass of bourbon.

"But, not too friendly," added Andie.

"Oh – about that incident a few days ago..."

"What incident?" she asked with a smile. She took the glass.

"Right. I'm impressed. You really know how to play the game."

"I realize there's a gaming aspect to this profession I need to deal with, sir, but..."

"Please call me Peter."

"I'm not quite that comfortable with that yet, sir. Let me just say that I'll do whatever it takes, within reason, to be a valuable member of your organization," Andie said. She took a sip of the bourbon. She hated the taste but didn't show her displeasure. She wanted to prove to Peter that she had control of this situation.

"I'm sure that's why Wainwright recruited you."

"By the way - where is Mr. Wainwright? I haven't seen him since he hired me."

"Funny you mention that. I can't believe you haven't heard that he's been on safari in Africa for the entire year. He's been using a fax machine for all his correspondences. We've been doing all our transactions that way. It's been working out great. He's actually supposed to be leaving Africa this morning and he'll be back at work sometime next week."

"That's nice. I'd like to thank him again for hiring me."

"I'd like to do the same. You've been working for us all this time and I haven't met you until this week. I'll be talking to Wainwright when he comes back. I'm going to suggest that we get back to knowing all of our associates on a more personal level."

"Thank you, sir," Andie replied. She took another small sip before setting the glass down. "Excellent bourbon, by the way."

"Don't mention it. Now, are you ready for your next case?"

"Yes, sir."

"This is another one for Carlos. He's been accused in another incident involving food poisoning."

"He sure does have bad luck with people and food."

"I guess you could say that," said Peter.

Marlena picked up Debbie at her apartment and they headed to the airport. Meanwhile, Tony saw Debbie's car still parked at the Community Center's parking lot. He tried to call her, of course with no luck. When he went to her apartment building, the security guard stopped him.

"I must see my little meatball," said Tony.

"Aren't you supposed to be staying away from this place?" asked the guard.

"You do not understand. I must..."

"You have to stay away from here, man. I have orders from my manager that Ms. Bailey doesn't want you coming near her. You're lucky she's not reporting you to the police."

"But I did not do anything wrong. Why won't she talk to me?"

"You got me, buddy. I'm just doing what I'm paid to do."

"You are being paid to stop me?"

"Yeah, that's my job."

"How much money are you being paid to do this job?"

"That's none of your business."

"No, really. How much money do you make to not allow me to see my precious linguine?"

"Are you trying to bribe me?"

"I do not understand. What is a bribe?" Tony displayed his confused expression.

"Do you think I'm stupid? I know what you're doing."

"That is funny. I do not even know what I am doing."

"You're trying to offer me money to let you in the building."

"No. I am just curious. Your job looks entertaining. I would like to know how much you earn, so I could compare with my career pay."

"What do you do?" asked the burley guard.

"I am the head cashier at the 7-Eleven in the Village."

"And you're trying to bribe me?" laughed the guard. "Listen, buddy. Even if I would accept a bribe, which I won't, there is no way a 7-Eleven clerk would have enough money to make me let him through."

Tony put five hundred dollars in his hand.

"She's in twenty-three B. You know the way," said the happy guard.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: _Holiday Inn Hell_

Nature called, and Nick walked into his hotel bathroom. He lifted the lid of the toilet seat and heard a voice.

"Nick?" said the voice.

He cut his flow in midstream. "Who said that?"

"It's me, Nick."

"Who the hell is me?"

"Exactly."

"Satan? Is that you?"

"Could be."

"But are you?"

"I can be anybody you want me to be."

"You still sound like a whore."

"Watch it. That kind of offends me."

"Yeah, right. Calling you a whore is bad but calling you the Prince of Darkness is okay?"

"It has a royal ring to it."

"You know what?" Nick said to the voice. "You don't sound like Tony."

"Maybe I'm not."

"And you don't sound like Jamie either."

"Once again, maybe I'm not."

"You don't even sound like Lucille Fernelli."

"Perhaps I have a cold."

"Who are you, goddamnit?"

"Hey, don't take that tone with me, young man."

"Why did you follow me to New Orleans?"

"We're not in New Orleans. We're in Kenner."

"That's practically right next to it."

"Yes, but I'm not exactly in the city limits."

"Seriously? What difference does that make? Since when do you care about geography?"

"There's too much competition in New Orleans, with all the voodoo witches and spirits."

"So you're afraid of a little competition?"

"I'm not afraid of it – I just don't like it. It takes too much energy. It's almost as laborious to overtake as New Lake City. Let's just say I remember how you were when you last lived there. You had no regard for anyone but yourself. I liked that. Now you're starting to get a little emotional..."

"Hey, I'm not getting emotional," interrupted Nick.

"You see what I mean?" said the voice.

"Okay, maybe I am. But what the hell do you expect? I'm in a Holiday Inn bathroom, having a conversation with the Devil."

"So you think that's who I am?"

"Aren't you?"

"You have so much to learn, Nicholas."

"There. You just called me Nicholas. Nobody but Tony ever calls me that."

"Sorry about that, Nickster."

"Whoa. Wait a second. You just called me Nickster. Nobody but Jamie has ever called me that."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm not saying anything. I'm asking. Who –in the hell – are you?"

"Pleased to meet you; hope you guess my name."

Nick was livid. "Don't you dare start confusing me by quoting the Rolling Stones."

"But what's puzzling you is the nature of my game."

"No. We're not going through with this again, you bastard."

"I don't like the way you are talking to me. I'm leaving."

"And don't come back," shouted Nick, as he flung his arms, knocking the empty liquor bottles off the bed. He sat up in a pool of sweat - at least he hoped it was sweat - realizing he was dreaming the whole thing, again.

Andie worked out the details of the trip after her meeting with Peter. She booked them on a 3:05 flight to New Orleans. She took the rest of the day off to pack. She loaded her sexiest outfits while daydreaming about what she was going to finally get to do that night.

Debbie and Marlena were in their plane when an announcement came over the speaker, informing them of a storm in Miami. The plane would have to make a stop in New Orleans.

"Maybe we can spend a few hours in New Orleans," said Marlena. "I've never been there." Debbie wasn't impressed. She was still nursing her hangover.

As the video shoot was wrapping up a day early, Julie was getting ideas.

"Why don't we get away from here for the weekend?" she asked Benny.

"What do you have in mind?"

"We could take the corporate jet to New Orleans or someplace."

"New Orleans would be great," said Benny. "I haven't been there since I found Nick. Let me clear it with Jamie. I'm sure it won't be any problem."

"Especially since we saved the company a bunch by finishing the video a day early."

"You're a real pro, Julie."

She gave Benny a hug, grabbed his butt, and then bit his earlobe. "You're not so bad yourself, tiger."

Nick found his itinerary, showing him staying at the downtown Hilton. He grabbed his bag and took a cab there. The cab driver took him around the Superdome, down Poydras Street, then straight to the Hilton front lobby. The hotel clerk who checked him in had a nametag that read Damien.

"The room you reserved has an issue, Mr. Peltier," said Damien. The toilet seems to have an absence of flushing power. We will upgrade you to a suite at no charge."

Nick did his best not to freak out. He checked in, went to his room, #1151, and saw the beautiful view of the Mississippi River. The Riverboat Natchez was making its U-turn back to the dock. He could hear the steam whistle even with the window closed. The carefree days of his time in the Big Easy were coming back to him. He decided to get out and go to the Quarter.

At the airport, Marlena was checking out the flight options.

"We can leave on a flight to Miami in three hours, or stay here overnight and catch an early morning flight," she told Debbie.

"I guess we can hang out here overnight," said Debbie, whose headache was disappearing. "Nick told me a lot about New Orleans. It'll be kind of nice to check it out."

Andie had managed to book Harold and herself on first-class seating for their flight to New Orleans. As they took their seats, the flight attendant greeted them. She was young, petite, stunning, and had an olive complexion. Harold gawked at her and was hoping her name was Griselda, or something different from the name of the girl who has been rubbing him the wrong way.

"Hi. My name is Gina and I'll be your flight attendant for this trip," she said.

Andie smiled at her and turned to Harold, who was starting to sweat.

"Are you nervous about flying?" she asked.

"I used to be," he said, "but I took the sixteen-step-program."

"Don't you mean the twelve-step?"

"You're right. I don't know where I got sixteen from."

"You look like you could use a drink, sir," said flight attendant Gina. "Could I get you something?

"A different attendant would be nice," said Harold.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you're stuck with me for the entire trip." He started thinking about how true that could be. He couldn't take his mind off of the other Gina.

Nick took Decatur Street to get to the French Quarter. As he walked in front of Jackson Square, he took the time to marvel at the sight of the St. Louis Cathedral. He always thought it was ironic to see such a magnificent church settled in the middle of one of the most sinful places in the country. The afternoon sun was beating down on him, making him thirsty. With an endless supply of alcohol surrounding him wherever he could see, he settled for beignets and coffee at Café Du Monde. The old, black trumpeter in front of the café was playing the obligatory When the Saints Go Marching In. He put his horn down and smiled.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," he told the clapping crowd, in his raspy voice. "If you have any requests, kindly write it on the back of a one dollar bill, and I'll be glad to play it for you." A teenage girl handed him a dollar. As he read the back, he said, " I'm sorry, young lady. I don't know Love Blender." He gave the girl back the dollar, but she insisted he keep it. "That's the kind of generosity I like. Thank you, young lady." He glanced over in Nick's direction. "How about you, Nick? You got any requests?"

Nick spit out his coffee in surprise. He was at a loss for words, so he just shook his head. The man started playing Basin Street Blues. Nick waited for him to finish the song then approached him with caution.

"How did you know my name?" he asked.

"Nick," he said, as he held out his hand for Nick to slap it. Nick put a ten-dollar bill in it instead. "You don't remember me?"

"To be honest with you - no."

"And you obviously been making good for yourself. You ain't never had more than fifty cents on you before."

Nick was embarrassed. "I'm sorry, sir. I really don't remember you."

"That's okay. You were always so drunk every time I seen you. You been doing okay?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You'll be all right, and you'll find what you came here to look for."

"How do you know I'm looking for something?"

The man just laughed. "It's good seeing you again, Nick. Now, you run along. I got to play for these fine people right here." He started playing Hello Dolly.

Nick strolled across the street into Jackson Square. A painter was sketching a young couple, when he looked up and saw Nick.

"Hey, Nick. Good to see you again." Nick didn't remember the painter at all. He waived back and kept walking. He noticed an old woman wearing dark sunglasses, sitting on a folding chair with an Ouiji board on her lap. She had a deck of Tarot cards spread out on it. She was arranging the cards over the board in a smooth motion. The woman mesmerized Nick. She lifted her head as if she knew he was staring at her.

"Would you like to see your future, Nicholas?" she asked.

"You know me?" asked a surprised Nick.

"I know everybody." She waved her arms up with a grand gesture.

"Do you remember me from when I lived here before?" He asked.

"No. I saw your name in the cards as you walked by."

"Are you sure you don't remember me? I mean, I'm seeing people that recognize me, but I don't remember them."

"You are a disturbed young man," said the lady.

"I guess you can say that."

"You are also quite unobservant."

"What makes you say that?"

"You see these marks on the cards?" She pointed to the raised dots on the Fool card.

"Yeah."

"Don't you know what they mean?"

"I'm not a card reader. That's your job – and I'm not a fool."

"You are also ignorant."

"Hey, I didn't come here to be offended, lady."

"It's Braille, you idiot."

Nick took a closer look at the cards then looked at the lady's eyes, as she lowered her glasses. Her pupils were clouded over and were facing different directions.

"So, you really don't recognize me."

"Bingo."

"So you can tell me my future?"

"That's the one thing I can see."

"So tell me," said the intrigued Nick.

"It'll cost you ten dollars." Nick took a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and put it on the board. The woman picked it up and studied it.

"I want to make sure this is a ten and not a one," she said.

"What, you don't trust me?"

"No, it's just that you're known for not having more than fifty cents on you at a time down here."

"Okay, I get the picture. It really is a ten. Trust me." Wow, I must really have been a tight-ass when I lived here, he thought.

She took the cards and spread them all over the board. "You are searching for something." She dealt the Hermit card upright.

"That's no revelation," said Nick. "Everywhere I go, people tell me the same thing."

"But you don't know what you're looking for." She dealt a reversed Judgment card.

"Sure I do. I was supposed to be looking for a rock drummer."

"You won't find the person you are looking for." A reversed World card was pulled.

"I'm starting to realize that. It looks like somebody already found that person for me." Nick was referring to Pizza Guy.

"Yes. You have been sent on a false journey." A reversed Wheel of Fortune card was next to be turned over.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You have been deceived by your directions."

"So, I wasn't supposed to be looking for a drummer?"

"No, you were supposed to be looking for that person, but whoever sent you on this path was misleading you."

"That's not surprising." Nick thought of Jamie.

"She has done this before. The lady dealt another World card.

"You can tell it was a she?"

"Yes. This deception is for a cause."

"What's the cause?"

"To cause deception to another."

"Who's that?"

"I can see someone following you, who has also been deceived by the same person." An upright _Devil_ card was pulled.

"Is that person here?" asked Nick. He didn't like the look of the card.

"That person is looking for you at a distant place."

"Why does he think he's looking for me?" He started to think about Elderberry. The next card she turned over was the Death card.

"I see a death."

"Is it mine?" Nick asked. His eyes were open wide with wonder and fear.

"No. He is looking for you because you caused this death."

"But I didn't kill anyone."

"This is what he believes. I also see another death in the very near future."

"Someone I know?"

"No, but it will be someone who will affect the life of a loved one."

"What do you mean by a loved one?" Nick asked.

"It means someone you love, stupid." She was getting a little frustrated with clueless Nick.

"Who is that?" asked Nick. "Turn over another card."

"You mean to tell me you don't know who you love?"

"It depends what you mean by love."

"You better take out your wallet. This could take a while."

Nick opened his wallet and pulled out another ten. He handed it to her and said, "This better be good."

Lance Miller was showing Elderberry the sights of Los Angeles. Gerome's fascination with the handsome reporter grew dim. He couldn't remember the last time he had an interest in another person, and he decided now wasn't the time to start. He started focusing on his reason for being there.

"This is all great, Lance, but I need to get down to business."

"Well, we could go back to my place and..."

"No, not that kind of business. I'm here for a reason."

"Well, I am, too," said Lance.

"For what reason are you with me?" The few moments of distraction were all he needed to recharge his mind. He grew suspicious of Lance.

"I'm supposed to keep you entertained and assist you," Lance remarked.

"Assist me for what?"

"In finding Nicholas Peltier."

"Ah ha. Got you. I never mentioned Pet-tire's name to you or anyone else besides Chief Bushman. Who the hell are you working for?"

"Like I told you – The LA Times."

"Something is up here. Take me back to the airport."

"But you haven't seen enough of LA yet."

"Oh, I've seen quite enough," said a frustrated Elderberry. Lance drove back to the airport after trying to convince Elderberry to stay. He dropped Gerome off at the front entrance.

"Where will you be going next?" he asked.

"I'm going to find Pel-tire wherever he is. He's not going to get away from me." Gerome ran into the airport to begin his search. Lance picked up his car phone.

"Hello O'Malley? This is Miller. I couldn't keep him detained long enough. He was getting suspicious."

"That's okay," said Jamie. "There's no way for him to track Nick to New Orleans. Thanks for the help."

Lance put his car phone down but noticed it didn't quite fit into its slot. He shoved it in without thinking twice. He never saw the small device attached, keeping it from fitting in its holder. Elderberry smiled as he took a small earpiece out his ear. He was able to listen to Lance and Jamie's conversation using the micro transmitter he attached to Lance's phone while driving around town.

"Never trust a pretty boy," he said to himself. "Looks like O'Malley is trying to throw me off track." He went to the ticket counter and got on the next flight to New Orleans.

"Love is an emotion you don't quite understand, correct?" the old lady asked Nick.

"Well, it doesn't take a psychic to tell me that," answered Nick.

"You are unlucky at love." The Love card was upside-down.

"I wouldn't exactly call it unlucky."

"You aren't exactly winning the lottery, either." The Wealth card was sideways.

"Good point," said Nick.

"I see competition with the one you love."

"Wait a second. We didn't come to the conclusion that I loved a certain person."

"Nick – I may be old and blind, but I'm not stupid. I see someone else in the picture."

"What am I supposed to do about it?"

"You must profess your love to her."

"I can't do that. I'm not sure that I do." He was now sure she was talking about Andie.

"You must make sure soon. The competition is getting fierce."

Back on the plane, Andie was complaining about getting cold. Harold pulled out a blanket from the overhead compartment and placed it on Andie's lap.

"Would you like to share a bit of this blanket?" asked Andie, with a sheepish grin.

"No, thanks. I'm fine," said the clueless Harold.

"Why don't you take some of it anyway?" She laid it out over his lap. She slid her hand underneath and started rubbing Harold's inner leg.

"Oh, I see," he said with a smile. "This is going to be great flight."

"I see you're a bit more relaxed," said flight attendant Gina, as she passed by.

"Yes, he is," replied Andie, with a sheepish grin. "I got a grip on the situation."

"I also see strong ties to other people in your life. I see a bond with another woman in your life. She's some kind of friend, but not a love interest. She is near," the old lady said to Nick.

"I guess you can say I'm kind of close to Debbie, but she's nowhere close to here," said Nick. He thought of Debbie, who was probably back home crying about seeing Tony and Kat together.

"We can get a room at the Hilton downtown," Marlena told Debbie. "I have a cousin that works there and it's within walking distance to Bourbon Street."

"Sounds great to me," said Debbie, who was up for anything. They hopped into a cab and headed to the Hilton.

"I feel she is close," said the old lady. "I also see a man who you are close to."

"I am not gay," replied Nick. Nick wasn't homophobic. He was concerned that he couldn't remember any of the sexual experiences he had in the last year.

"No, you idiot."

"Don't call me that."

"Well, you are. Let me do my job. I see a friend, who just happens to be a man, close to you."

"I guess you can say Benny and I are on the close side – I mean like a brotherly thing."

"No, you don't understand. I see him close – He is near."

"Now I'm sure you're off your rocker. Benny's back in New Lake City, taking care of business..."

"With a beautiful young lady."

Nick shook his head and smiled. "Yeah, imagine that - Benny with Julie Templeton. That's got to be the mismatch of the century. How do I know her?"

"He is here with her. The other woman is also here. You are about to have your present life mixed with your past. It will deeply confuse you. You will have to seek answers from your deeper past." She dealt the Sun card upside-down.

"Okay," said Nick. "Now you're getting silly. There's no way Debbie's here in New Orleans, much less Benny and Julie Templeton."

The Apocalypse corporate jet landed at the Lakefront Airport. Julie was wearing baseball cap and dark sunglasses. The frumpy sweatshirt and jeans ensemble was a feeble attempt to hide he curvaceous body. She stepped out ahead of Benny and waived at the limo waiting for them. The Apocalypse corporate account was set up to use at one hotel. They got into the limo and headed to the New Orleans Downtown Hilton.

"I guess now you're going to tell me that Satan is here, too," said Nick.

"I do see an evil presence," said the old lady. The next card she played down was another Devil card.

"So Jamie, Tony, and Lucille are here in New Orleans. Next thing you know, you'll have the whole town of New Lake here."

"No. I do not see this Tony or Jamie you speak of in town. The Lucille name you speak of isn't here either. The evil presence is of another form."

"What is it?" He thought he covered all the bases. She shuffled the cards around but couldn't get an answer.

"I guess it's not for me to determine what the evil force is. This is for you to find out."

Nick pulled out an extra ten dollars and gave it to her. "Well, I don't think you gave me any answers, but you sure were entertaining."

"Don't take the cards lightly. They do not lie." Nick smiled and walked away. He got a few steps down when he heard the lady bawl. "Nicholas. The cards - do – not – lie." She took off her shades and looked in his direction. Her pale eyes were red with fear. "Be careful, Nicholas." He could see the fear in the eyes that saw nothing. He walked back to her.

"Didn't you say something about another death?" he asked.

"The cards have finished talking to me," she said. "I don't wish to discuss it anymore."

"But you said something about another death, involving someone I don't know, but would affect the life of Andie."

"I said a loved one."

"But you were talking about Andie."

"Was I? You're the one who just mentioned her name."

"What is your deal, lady?"

"It wasn't my deal. It was yours."

"Why is it disturbing to you? You do this all day, everyday. What makes me so special?"

She took a long time to answer. "I don't want to see you hurt."

"Well, I really appreciate your concern, but you don't even know me."

"I've known you all your life." She became solemn.

"You mean your cards show my life like you've known me all of it."

"No, I mean I was there the moment you were born."

Nick hesitated for a few moments. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

She held her hand for Nick to grab. Tears were starting to flow as she confessed, "I was the nurse who helped deliver you. I was there to wrap you up in the blanket the moment they took your mother out the delivery room. I saw the look on your father's face as he gazed at your mother's lifeless body. I saw him run out the hospital. I saw the tears in your grandmother's eyes as she saw her dead daughter-in-law, her son running away, and you being held by me."

Nick was almost in tears. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, but somehow believed her.

"Tell me. What else did you see?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing, like you don't remember what you saw?"

"No, I mean nothing. From that moment on, I saw nothing."

"So you turned away and acted like nothing happened. I guess I can understand that, you being a nurse and not wanting to get involved. I mean, I'm just a guy who lost his mother only because I was born."

"Nicholas, you don't understand what I'm saying. From that moment, I saw, and still see nothing. I went blind."

"Oh, God. I'm responsible for your blindness. What the hell kind of person am I?" After years of not accepting responsibilities for his actions, this revelation hit Nick hard.

"No, Nicholas. You are not at fault. The emotion of the whole incident caused me to go blind. I went to doctors all over the state. None could tell me why I couldn't see. But, I could see. I was seeing things beyond sight. I was awarded a gift."

"So, you're not mad at me?"

"Of course not. I've had a full life. For some reason, God has chosen this path for me. Now, I can see the past, feel the present and foresee the future. I have you to thank for that."

"But you're blind and here out in the streets of New Orleans. You want to thank me for this?"

"I have accepted this role in my late life," she said.

"Where do you live?"

"I live a few blocks away from here with Horace."

"Who's Horace?"

"He's over there, across the street, playing trumpet for the tourists."

"Are you happy?"

"I am at a place in life where I can be at peace with myself. I tell people what they want to hear. If I see a change in their lives they must know about, I let them know just enough to keep them on the right track."

"Am I on the right track?"

"Be careful, Nicholas. Just be careful. Now go on to Pat O'Brien's and get yourself a Hurricane."

"How did you know that's what I wanted?"

She shook her head and smiled. "It was great to see you again, Nicholas. Just remember – New Orleans is a melting pot. It has a lot of different ingredients. If they are mixed well, it's a beautiful thing. But if it gets stirred too fast, you can get sucked into a vortex from hell. Now, go on."

Nick walked away again. This was the first connection he'd ever had to somebody who was there when he was born, other than his Maw-Maw. He started thinking - how could a blind person see me passing by, know all the information about Andie, and claim to be there at my birth. The details were amazing. Somebody could have been feeding her information about me. And what the hell is this vortex thing? I need to go back and find out. He turned around after walking about fifty feet. The old lady was gone. He looked across the street at Café Du Monde. He heard the trumpet playing, but it was a different musician than earlier. I'm losing my mind, he thought.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: _Fire and Water DO Mix_

Debbie and Marlena approached the hotel clerk.

"I thought Henry was working today," said Marlena." He's my cousin and said he could get me a room at a discount."

"I don't mean to stir the pot, ma'am. I'm afraid he doesn't work here anymore,' said Damien. I may be able to help you out, anyway." He typed a few keyboard strokes and smiled. "I can put you in a suite for $69."

"That's wonderful," exclaimed Marlena. "Thank you so much, Damien," as she stared at his nametag. "What's your last name so I can leave a great comment?"

"It's Fromelle," said Damien. "But please don't mention that discount. I could get into trouble."

"No problem, thanks again," smiled Marlena. She and Debbie dropped their luggage off in then hurried back downstairs. They were walking out the front lobby, unaware of Benny and Julie, who were checking in. They got directions to Bourbon Street and started their walk to the party street. Benny and Julie followed the valet to their room, which just happened to be 1155.

Nick was sitting on the patio at Pat O'Brien's, enjoying his second Hurricane. This was the drink that made Pat O'Brien's famous. Nick was drinking them down like water. He loved the view from his the cast iron chair. The famous fire and water fountain was performing its duties, while the pigeons ate popcorn thrown by the patrons. The rum helped settle the spooky feeling he had since talking to the old lady.

After testing out the bed, Benny and Julie decided to make the walk to the French Quarter. As they walked out the front entrance, they didn't see Andie and Harold checking in. Andie and Harold followed the valet to their room - room 1157, the room they were just assigned to by Damien Fromelle. They walked into the room and Andie attacked Harold. She threw him on the bed, kissed him with uninhibited passion, and rubbed her hands all over his body.

"You hold this thought while I go freshen up," she told the excited Harold. He turned on the TV while he waited.

"In this late-breaking news," said the newscaster on TV, "a plane carrying William Joseph Wainwright, founding partner for the prestigious Wainwright and Grimes Law firm in New Lake City, crashed on the coast of Cameroon in Western Africa. It is not known if there were any survivors."

Andie came running out the bathroom, wearing a skimpy negligee with thong panties. "What did that report say?"

Harold glared at her with open- jawed amazement. "Oh, my God. You look amazing," he said.

"Did they just say something about Mr. Wainwright?"

Harold grabbed her and started kissing her neck. "I wasn't paying attention," he whispered in her ear.

She pulled away and looked at the TV. Mr. Wainwright's picture was being displayed.

"Are they saying he's dead?"

"No, baby. They're just assuming right now. You know how the media is always jumping the gun." He walked up to her from behind and started rubbing her breasts. Once again, she pulled away.

"I'm sorry, Harold. This is terrible news. I kind of lost the mood."

"I understand. Why don't we just go get a drink, relax a bit, and I'll make some calls later to find out what happened."

"That's a good idea. I'm sorry to get you all worked up for nothing."

"That's okay. We'll have plenty of time for that later."

Andie went back into the bathroom to change into street clothes. Harold grabbed her hand and led her down to the lobby, out the front door, and made their way to the French Quarter.

"Where's Pat O'Brien's?" asked Debbie. She remembered Nick talking about the famous bar and wanted to sample it for herself.

"I'm sure somebody around here knows," said Marlena. They were directed a half block off Bourbon Street, down St. Peters Street, right to the front door. They walked through the dark, narrow entrance. They looked in the piano bar on the right, but kept walking to the patio section. They sat at a table near the fountain, which happened to be on the other side from where Nick was seated. They had ordered their drinks when Marlena stood up.

"I need to find the ladies room," she said. "You want to come with me?"

"No, I'm okay for now. I'll just wait for the drinks."

As Marlena walked to the ladies room, Nick noticed her. That sure looks like the bartender from Balls & Burgers, he thought to himself. After taking another sip of his drink, a different pretty brunette walked in front of him. She looks like she could be her too. I guess I'm just drunk.

Debbie was throwing popcorn to a pair of hungry pigeons. "Are you two together?" she asked the nibbling birds. "You better be careful," she said to the smaller one. "Sooner or later, this little guy next to you is going to cheat and break your heart."

"Do you always talk to birds like that?" asked Marlena, as she came back to the table.

"I'm sorry. We're supposed to be having a good time and I started thinking about Tony and Kat." The waiter returned with the drinks.

"I'm sure this will take care of your problems," Marlena said with a smile.

Benny and Julie were enjoying the sights of the French Quarter. They booked themselves for a dinner cruise on the Riverboat Natchez. With a little time to kill they decided to walk to Pat O'Brien's and get a couple of Hurricanes. Julie was still wearing her baseball cap and dark sunglasses so she wouldn't be recognized. Benny was wearing a huge smile. They walked into Pat O'Brien's and went into the piano bar. The singer welcomed the couple in as they sat at a table.

"A couple of fresh ones," said the beautiful, sultry singer, who kept playing the piano as she talked to the crowd. "Where are you guys from?"

"New Lake City," said Benny.

"First time in New Orleans?" she asked.

"Second," replied Benny.

"My first," said Julie.

"Well, let me extend some good-old southern hospitality to you. What do you want to hear?"

"How about Love Blender?" asked Julie.

"Sorry, honey. Don't know that one. Try another one."

"How about It Had to Be You?" asked Benny.

"Looks like we have a romantic here, ladies and gentlemen," said the singer. She started singing the song with a smooth, sensuous tone.

"I know that voice," said Benny. "I don't remember from where, but I'm sure I've heard that voice before."

The crowd in the patio area was getting larger. Nick was sitting alone at a table with three empty chairs. They happened to be the only ones left. A group of three drunk, but extremely attractive ladies stumbled to his table.

"Are these seats taken?" asked one of them.

Nick just smiled and said, "Help yourselves."

She extended her hand. "Hi. I'm Marcia. This is Sara and Melissa. We're from Dallas and we're plastered. What's your name?"

"I'm Nick. What brings you guys over here?"

"I'm getting married," said Sara. "This is my last fling."

"You ever made it with three women at the same time?" asked Melissa.

Nick just smiled. "No, I can't say that I have."

"Me neither," laughed Melissa. Marcia pulled her chair close to Nick.

"Have you ever been to Dallas? You look awfully familiar."

Nick started thinking about the time he met Andie. "As a matter of fact, I have."

"You're not supposed to say that," said Marcia. "Don't you know a pick-up line when you hear one?"

"Where's a good place to party here?" asked Sara.

"How about your place?" said Melissa, as she rubbed Nick's arm.

"You're cute, in that gross kind of way," said Marcia. She stood up and hollered, "Hey waiter. Get your ass over her and get us some drinks."

Debbie saw Marcia's head from over the fountain. "That girl sure is having a good time," she said.

"That's what it's all about," said Marlena. "You want to go over there and join them?"

"No, that's okay. I'm having a good enough time over here. I think I'm going to go to the bathroom." She pushed her way through the crowd and found the bathroom, right next to the piano bar. As she went in, Andie and Harold walked past her on their way to the patio.

"This sure is a crowded place," Andie told Harold.

"Why don't you wait right here and I'll see if I can get us some drinks," said Harold.

Andie stood in the crowd as Harold left her alone. She noticed Marcia standing on a chair, screaming for a waiter. She looks like somebody I knew from Dallas.

Marcia got tired of waiting for service. "I'll get the damn drinks myself." She climbed off her chair and shoved her way to the bar. As she passed in front of Andie, Andie tapped her on the shoulder.

"Excuse me," said Andie. "Are you from Dallas?"

Marcia looked at her for a few seconds. "As a matter of fact, yes, I am."

"It seems like I've seen you before," said Andie.

"Maybe it was from my waitress days at Andiamo."

"That's it," said Andie. "I used to go there all the time. You were that cocky waitress who always made fun of my name. You always said Welcome to Andie's Ammo." It was a reference to the t-shirt she was wearing one night when she was dining with some of her classmates. They had just worked at a charity blood drive and the shirt she was given to wear was two sizes too small.

"Oh, yea, I remember. Small world, ain't it?" said Marcia. "We're at a table with some guy named Nick who said he's been to Dallas. Maybe you know each other. Ha, yeah, right." She laughed as she struggled through the crowd to get to the bar.

Andie froze. No way. What are the odds of that being the same Nick, she thought to herself. After getting the drinks, Harold had difficulty locating Andie. He walked right in front of Marlena without noticing her. She looked at him and thought he resembled Debbie's sleazy boss. When he found Andie, she had a strange look on her face.

"What's the problem?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just noticing how much this place looks exactly how Nick described it."

"Did you like Dallas when you were there?" Melissa asked Nick.

"Yeah, it was pretty cool. I met my best friend there."

"Is he here, too?" asked Sara.

"Actually, it's a she and, no, she isn't here."

"Lucky for us," said Melissa.

Marcia returned with a handful of drinks. "I just ran into some chick that knew me from when I was a waitress at Andiamo."

"My friend told me she went to that place often," said Nick.

"Maybe it's the same person," said Marcia. "Wow, what are the odds of that?"

"What did she look like?" asked Nick.

"I thought you wanted all of us," said Marcia.

"Yeah, that's kind of silly. There's no way she could be here," said Nick.

"Yeah. Why settle for a tall brunette with classy looks when you can have all three of us," said Marcia.

"Just how tall?" asked Nick.

Marcia held her hand around the five-foot ten-inch level. "About like this."

"The old lady said Debbie and Benny would be here. She didn't say anything about Andie."

"What in the hell are you talking about?" asked Sara. "Are you married?"

"No. Why?"

"You're talking about your old lady. It's okay. No problem. We don't want any ties anyway. It can be our little secret."

"I'm not married. It's just when your friend here..."

"Marcia, sweetie," said Marcia.

"Right, when Marcia said she saw a tall brunette who remembered her from Dallas, I thought it could be someone I know.

"Let's see," said Melissa. "There's about a million and a half people in Dallas alone, not counting the ones who are in and out everyday. There're also about four million or so people in the Metroplex. I'd say the chances of this being the girl you're thinking about are pretty good."

"You're right. I guess she's kind of been on my mind."

Benny and Julie listened to the lady sing a few more songs, then decided to get some fresh air outside.

"I'm sure I've heard that voice before," said Benny. "I wish I could remember where."

"It'll come to you, baby," said Julie. "I need to use the ladies room. I'll be back in a flash. She bumped into Debbie as she walked in. "Excuse me."

Debbie didn't recognize her. She walked out the room and right past Benny, who was facing the other direction. When she got back to the table, Marlena was talking to a couple of guys.

"Hey, Debbie. Look what I found," screamed Marlena. "This is Jay and Lonny. They're from Dallas."

Debbie looked at the two handsome guys and felt a little strange. She shook their hands and sat at the table.

"We're here for our friend's bachelor party," said Lonny.

"Yeah," said Jay. "He's around here somewhere."

"It looks like you guys are having a pretty good time," said Marlena.

"Hell, yeah. New Orleans kicks ass," said Lonny.

"Can we get you beautiful ladies some more drinks?" asked Jay.

"Sure," Marlena said. "You might have a tough time finding a waiter, though."

"No problem," said Lonny. He stood on the table and screamed, "Hey waiter guy. We need some drinks over here." He looked over the fountain and was face-to-face with Marcia, who decided she liked standing on the chair. "Hey. Is that you, Marcia?" he hollered.

Marcia let out a scream. "What the hell?" She jumped off the chair. "Hey y'all. I just saw Lonny on the other side of the fountain."

"No way," said Sara. "They told me they were going to Key West for their party."

"Are you sure it's him?" asked Melissa. "You're pretty wasted."

"It's him, and I can see the top of Jay's head, too."

"Let's go meet them," said Sara.

"So I guess our foursome is out of the question," Nick said, as a joke.

"Don't lose that thought," said Marcia.

"We're just going to tell them hi and send their happy asses on their way. They're just here to spy on us. We're supposed to be having separate parties in different cities. We'll set them straight. Come with us and meet them, Nick."

"No, thanks," said Nick. "I'll just stay here and keep the table."

We'll be right back," said Sara. The girls walked through the crowd and found Lonny and Jay standing next to Debbie and Marlena. Marcia gave Lonny a big hug then punched his arm.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?" she asked.

"Our flight to Miami ended up here because of some storm, so we decided to party here," said Lonny, as he rubbed his wounded arm. "I thought you girls were going to Vegas."

"Well - we lied. We didn't want y'all to know where we were."

"This sure is a small world," said Marlena.

"Who's this?" asked Melissa.

"I'm Marlena and this is my friend, Debbie. We were actually headed to Key West ourselves and our flight got grounded, too."

"What a coincidence. I bet we'll be on the same flight tomorrow," said Lonny.

Sara looked at the way Lonny and Jay were staring at Marlena and Debbie.

"Where in the hell is Tony?" she asked.

"Tony?" asked Debbie.

"Yeah, Tony. My fiancée. Are you hiding something?" asked Sara.

Debbie started crying and ran off.

"Now look what you did," said Marlena. She took off after her.

"I just asked where Tony was," said Sara.

Debbie ran right past Andie and Harold.

"That girl looked just like Debbie," said Andie.

"They must put a lot of alcohol in these drinks," said Harold.

Nick was alone at his table when a lost man staggered next to him. The man looked at Nick and said, "I'm so fricking lost."

"Who are you looking for?" asked Nick.

"My two buddies. I'm here for my bachelor party and I got a little lost."

"This must be a popular place for bachelor and bachelorette parties," said Nick.

"Man, I'm tired of all this partying," said the man. "I just want to go back home, marry my sweetheart, and get on with my life. This is all bullshit."

"Why did you come here in the first place?"

"My friends wanted to take me to Key West for a little blow-out before I got married. Our plane had to land here because of some storm in Miami." He looked at his empty Hurricane glass. "What do they put in this shit? I'm so fricking wasted."

"By any chance would your fiancée's name be Sara?"

The man looked at Nick and was stunned. "Wow. Are you some kind of psychic? I've heard New Orleans is full of people like that."

Nick noticed Sara walking to the man from behind and decided to have a little fun.

"Yes, I am. I have powers that you wouldn't believe. How much do you love this Sara?"

"More than anything else in the world," said the man. Sara could hear everything and just smiled.

"I bet if you wish hard enough, she'll appear before your very eyes."

"You mean right here?"

"Yes – right here." Nick smiled. He could tell Sara knew what he was doing and played along.

The man closed his eyes as tight as possible and said, "I wish Sara was here right now."

Sara was about to grab the man when Nick waived her off. He put his finger over his mouth for the shhh signal.

"You have to say how much you love her, at the top of your voice, to make it work," said Nick, as he tried not to laugh.

"I love you, Sara. You're the best woman in this whole world."

"Louder," said Nick.

"I'd go to hell and back for you. I'd scrub the bathroom floor with a toothbrush while wearing my Fernelli boots for you."

Nick was stunned. "Why did you say that?"

Sara grabbed the man and shouted, "And I love you, too, Tony."

Both of the men screamed.

"How did you do that?" Tony asked in disbelief.

"Did she call you Tony?" asked Nick.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because it's my fricking name."

"It's you," screamed Nick. "Get the hell away from me." This is the other form of the Devil that the old blind lady was talking about, he thought.

Tony and Sara hugged each other as they watched Nick run through the crowd. He bumped into Benny, who was waiting for Julie, and made him spill his drink.

"Hey, watch it, man," said Benny.

"I'm sorry," said Nick, as he picked himself up and came face –to-face with Benny.

A crowd of Brazilian soccer players came rushing though at that moment, taking Nick with the surge of bodies. Benny stood there, dumbfounded.

"Nah," he said, as he shook his head. "It couldn't have been."

Nick was trying to keep his balance as the soccer team made their way through.

"That man sure looked like Benny," he said. He got pushed aside and found a spot against the outside bar. He looked at the spot where he thought he'd just been, but didn't see Benny. "I might as well get another drink while I'm here," he said to himself.

Debbie had also been lost in the shuffle of the soccer team's entrance. There was one person standing between her and Nick. It was a huge linebacker for the New Orleans Saints, who noticed Debbie crying.

"What's wrong, little lady?" asked the linebacker.

"Oh, nothing," sobbed Debbie.

"There must be something wrong. A pretty lady like you doesn't come into this bar crying for no reason."

"I'm sorry. I'm not exactly in the mood for conversation right now. I'd just like a drink."

"Well, let me get that for you." He turned to the bartender. "Would you mind fixing this pretty young lady with a drink?"

"Let me get this gentleman first, " said the bartender, as he pointed to Nick.

The linebacker turned to Nick. "You don't mind if I get this lady a drink before you, do you?"

Nick looked up at the man and said, "No problem at all." He had enough confrontations with football players this week.

"Thank you," he said, as he turned back to Debbie. "I didn't get your name."

Nick tried not to pay attention, but could hear every word of the conversation between the two, even in the deafening noise of the bar.

"That's because I didn't give it to you," said Debbie.

"Okay, I get it. You really don't want to talk to me."

"It's nothing personal. No offense?"

"None taken."

"By the way, it's Debbie."

Nick stopped giving his drink order. He recognized Debbie's voice.

"Nice to meet you, Debbie. Mine's Tony."

"Shit," screamed both Debbie and Nick, as they ran in different directions.

Tony the linebacker watched them run. "I never thought I'd scare people off with my name."

"And just what is your name, big guy?" asked Marlena, as she stepped up to the bar.

"What do we have here?" he asked.

"My name's Marlena. Why don't you tell me that scary name you were just talking about?"

"It's Tony."

She started laughing. "I don't meant to be rude, Tony, but that name seems to be upsetting to my friend these days. Did you happen to see a cute girl, about this tall, dark blonde hair, with an aversion to your name?"

"Funny you ask. She just ran off that way a few seconds ago."

"I'll find her in a few minutes," said Marlena. "I'd like to talk to you for a while." She smiled as she rubbed Tony's muscular forearm.

"My pleasure," said Tony.

Andie was pulling the cherry out of her Hurricane, when she got bumped by one of the soccer players. Her straw fell to the ground.

"I'll get you another one," said Harold. He strolled to the bar and saw Tony.

"Excuse me, sir. Aren't you Tony Brunella of the New Orleans Saints?" Harold was a close follower of the NFL. Many of his previous clients were troubled players from the league.

"Can't you see I'm trying to talk to this pretty young thing here?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir."

"Now apologize to the lady for interrupting our conversation."

Harold walked to the other side of Tony, only to become eye to eye with Marlena – who recognized Harold without any doubt.

"You're that pervert," she said. "What in the hell are you doing here?"

"You say this guy is a pervert?" asked Tony. "He goes around screwing sixteen-year-old girls."

Tony gave Harold a look that would scare Satan himself. Harold shoved his way to Andie, grabbed her, and led her out of the bar.

"What's wrong, Harold?" asked Andie.

"It's just too crowded in there. Let's go find a quieter spot." As they walked past the piano bar on the way out, Nick walked in the door, not noticing them as they left. He was hoping to hide out in a dark corner.

"I really should go find Debbie," said Marlena. "It's been real nice talking to you, Tony." I hope Debbie doesn't see that asshole, she thought.

"My pleasure," said Tony. Marlena walked right past Benny and Julie as they walked up to the bar. Benny turned his head to look at her.

"Hey," said Julie. "You're supposed to have eyes on me."

"She looks like the bartender at Balls & Burgers," said Benny. "I saw someone who looked like Nick a few minutes ago, and..." He stopped and stared.

"And what?" asked Julie. Benny saw Marlena walking out with Debbie.

"And that girl is walking out with another girl who looks exactly like Debbie."

"Do I make you that crazy that you're seeing things?"

Benny smiled. "You know what? That's probably it." He gave Julie a huge kiss.

"Aren't you Julie Templeton?" asked Tony Brunella, who was still standing in his spot at the bar.

"I was hoping no one would recognize me with these glasses and hat, but, yes, I am."

She looked up and saw Tony's face. "Tony!" She gave him a big hug. "Benny, this is Tony Brunella, linebacker for the New Orleans Saints."

"Pleased to meet you," said Tony, as he looked down and shook Benny's hand.

"How do you two know each other?" asked Benny.

"We went to high school together," said Julie.

"I had a big crush on her," said Tony.

"Really? I never knew that," said Julie.

"You're more beautiful than ever. I've been following your career ever since you became the BreastMaster girl."

"And I've been following yours ever since your freshmen year at UCLA." said Julie.

"Really? I'm honored."

"You shouldn't be. I'm still the same old Julie."

"Excuse me for saying this, but there is nothing same old about you."

"You're such a flirt, Tony."

"I wouldn't call it flirting, Julie."

"I would," inserted Benny.

"You got a problem with me talking to an old friend?" asked Tony.

"I didn't take you for the jealous type, Benny," said Julie.

"No, everything's cool," said Benny. He watched Julie and Tony talk about old times then slipped away. He walked outside and heard the faint sound of the steam whistle coming from the Riverboat Natchez, signaling the start of the dinner cruise. He walked back into Pat O'Brien's and went to the main bar, across from the piano bar. He ordered another Hurricane and began to drown his newfound pride.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: _The Sultry Songstress_

Elderberry made a call from the airplane, trying to find out where Nick might be staying. While investigating Apocalypse Records, he found out about the corporate Hilton account. After calling the Hilton, he discovered Nick was registered there. He decided to go straight to the French Quarter when he arrived in New Orleans. He had a hunch Nick would be roaming the streets.

Nick found his dark corner in the piano bar. When he settled down enough to notice the singer, he was shocked. It was Shana D'Angelo. Her voice was even more beautiful than he remembered – so was she. She didn't notice him sneak into the bar, since the crowd was huge and rowdy. She had the audience singing along with her and some of them were dancing on the chairs. When her set was over, she walked to the performer's room off the side of the stage. She stopped right in front of Nick, who was sitting in the chair by the door. She stopped and looked at him straight in the eyes. He had a sad puppy face on.

"Nick, is that you?"

"It sure looks like it is."

She grabbed his hand, stood him up, and gave him a giant hug. He was surprised at the reception.

"It's so good to see you, Nick."

"Same here." This is an affectionate hug, thought Nick. She doesn't seem angry at all.

"Where have you been hiding all these years?" Shana asked, as she broke away from the embrace.

"Oh, I've been doing things."

"What kind of things?"

Nick looked around at the crowded room. "Why don't we go somewhere a little less crowded and talk."

"Sure," said Shana. "We can go to the bar across the hall. It's not as noisy."

They went into the bar and sat at a table. This was the main bar but since the weather was great, most of the patrons were in the patio area. They were about ten feet behind Benny, who was sitting at the bar while nursing his Hurricane, with his back to Nick and Shana.

"You look gorgeous, Shana. The years have certainly been great to you," said Nick.

"You're still a smooth one, Nick. You haven't changed a bit," said Shana. She held up two fingers towards the bartender.

"Well, you sure have. That voice of yours has gotten even better."

"Thank you. I've been having lots of practice, and I have you to thank for that."

"Me?" Nick was surprised.

"Yes, you. That tape you made of me got me the audition for this job. I've been here ever since."

"But you're a lounge singer," said Nick, almost apologetic.

"But, I'm a lounge singer at Pat O'Brien's. Do you realize what kind of exposure I get?"

"Not really."

"For one thing, I met my husband here."

"You're married?"

"Yeah, to Eddie, he's a wonderful recording engineer. We're working on an album for me right now. I've also met a lot of business contacts. I've had job offers all over the world."

"But you're still here."

"I love it here. Maybe after my record is completed, Eddie and I will do something with it and take some people up on their offers."

"So, you're happy?" Nick was trying to rid his guilt.

"Exceptionally."

"I was worried there for a second."

"Why?"

"Well, remember when I left town without a good-bye?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't find that strange?"

"Not for you." Shana didn't really know Nick well, but she did know him.

"Am I that easy to read?"

"Nick, don't kid yourself. I knew why you were helping me out with the tape. I'm not stupid. I'm grateful for the results and I'm not sorry I had to sleep with you to get it."

"You didn't have to. I would have recorded you anyway."

"You sure didn't mind," Shana said, with an impish smile.

Nick smiled. "It was good, wasn't it?"

Shana smiled right back. "The tape was really good."

Nick's smile plummeted. "What about the sex?"

"It was okay, I guess. I thought you knew I was just using you for the recording."

"Actually, I thought you were the one thinking I was using you."

"It looks like we were using each other," she added, with a smile.

"Yeah, I guess so." I guess she knew me better than I knew her, he thought.

The bartender brought two Dixie beers to the table.

"Well, tell me about yourself. What have you been up to?" asked Shana. Love Blender started blaring through the jukebox speakers. Nick and Benny both shook their heads.

"That, for one thing," explained Nick, as he pointed to the jukebox and tried to hide his shame. "How in the hell did they get it in their rotation so quick?"

"Don't tell me you wrote that garbage?" Shana asked.

"Unfortunately, yes. Not my best effort," explained Nick. "However, I guess that tape turned out to be a good thing for both of us. I gave it to a guy from Apocalypse Records and he really liked it. I was trying to promote you, but he ended up hiring me. I've been living in New Lake City ever since"

"That's great."

"You're not mad?"

"Of course not. Why would I be?" asked Shana.

"Because the tape I made for you is the one that got me this job."

"Hey, it worked out great for me, too."

"I guess you're right," Nick said.

"Nick, you were always a caring man. You had an I-don't –give-a-shit attitude, but I read right through it."

"What do you mean?"

"You had lots of friends but you weren't close to any of them. You had a hurt face. Even when you smiled, I could tell you were hurting. That anger is what drove you to do all those fantastic things you did here."

"I wouldn't call them fantastic."

"I would. Look at all the bands you played with. Think about all those street kids you helped by setting them up with other musicians to form bands. You got them off the streets."

"That's only because they all had girlfriends that were grateful to me for helping them out. I got most of my, uh, fun times that way."

"The motive didn't matter, Nick. It was the results. Look at me. I couldn't have done this without you." Shana was sincere.

Nick had trouble accepting the fact that something he did for himself actually helped somebody else, too. "It's funny you say all this. I had a dream last night – at least I hope it was a dream – that a certain, um, let me say force, told me I no regard for anybody but myself when I lived here."

"Maybe that's what you thought, but I knew better. You're a very caring person. Did you ever find the right one?"

"No." He knew what she meant.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you have almost the same broken-hearted look in you eyes as you had when you lived here."

"What do you mean by almost?"

"The Nick I knew had a broken heart with no hope. Now, I can see in your eyes, your heart is breaking, but there is a glimmer of hope."

"Is everybody in this city psychic?"

"No, Nick. It's just you're that easy to read."

"Thanks a lot."

"No, Nick - thank you." She gave him a little kiss on the cheek. She held up her beer bottle to Nick, who did the same. They tapped them together. "Have you ever been back home?" asked Shana, as she took a sip of the ice-cold brew.

"No," Nick answered. He took a few long gulps of beer and asked, "Why do you want to know that?"

"Because I think it's time you quit running away."

"I'm not running from anything."

"You were running from Lafayette when you lived here."

"I never told you anything about Lafayette."

"Yes, you did. One night after a long session..."

"Recording?"

Shana smiled. "No, actually, I lied. The sex was good. It was after one of our all nighters, you passed out and started mumbling about Lafayette, Maw-Maw, and Jamie."

"See, you're wrong. I'm not running from Jamie. I just saw her three days ago. In fact, she's the one who sent me back here."

"Didn't she send you here in the first place, in one way or another?"

Nick looked her in the eyes for a few seconds, then said, "I guess you have a point there."

"Since you're this close, why don't you make a trip to Lafayette? Find out what you're still running from and maybe you'll be able to find what you're looking for."

"Maybe you're right."

"Of course I am. Go find yourself because, believe me, you'll like what you find."

"You are a really a beautiful lady, Shana. Thanks for the talk."

"Would you like to come have dinner with Eddie and me? He's meeting me in a few minutes and we're going eat at K-Paul's."

"No, thanks. I'm going to walk the streets. I need to start finding myself." He downed the rest of his beer and gave Shana a hug.

"And don't forget to make that trip back home." She waved good-bye to Nick then went to the bar. "Hey, Bryan," she yelled to the bartender. "Can you get me a 'to-go' cup while I'm waiting for Eddie?" She looked next to her and saw Benny with one hand on his drink and the other holding up his head by his chin.

"Hey, buddy. You're looking a little down," she said to Benny.

He turned his head and saw Shana. "You're that singer I saw a while ago, aren't you?"

"If you were across the hall, I guess I'm the one."

"You're really good."

"Thank you. Why are you sitting here by yourself, looking like you just lost your best girl?"

"Because I just did."

She looked closer at him. "Hey, aren't you the one who was with that girl and said y'all were from New Lake City?" Shana was good with faces, even in the dimly lit piano bar.

"That would be me," Benny said.

"It's funny. I was just sitting here talking to a friend of mine who lives there now."

"Yeah, it's a darn small world, isn't it?"

"What happened? Did y'all two get in some kind of fight?"

"Not really. She's out on the patio, talking to an old boyfriend."

"So they're just talking?"

"I guess so."

"Why are all men such idiots?" she asked. She drank another sip of beer and slammed the bottle on the bar. "I swear, man. What's the big deal about your girl talking to an old boyfriend?"

"You don't understand. I have a problem holding on to girlfriends lately."

"Well, with an attitude like that, it's no wonder why."

"What do you mean?"

"You need to be more sure of yourself. Go back out there, give her some time to talk with her old friend, and then show her that you're her man. That other guy will get the picture."

"Even if that other guy is Tony Brunella?"

"The linebacker for the Saints?"

"Yeah, and the girl is Julie Templeton."

"The BreastMaster slut?" Shana had seen the commercials. She wasn't a fan.

"Hey, watch it. She's not a slut."

"If she's out there with Tony Brunella, she is. He's the biggest womanizer this city has ever seen. He sleeps with every girl he can get his hands on."

"Well, his hands are probably all over Julie right now."

"So, go stop him, you idiot," Shana ordered.

"Didn't you ever see how big he is?"

"Do you love this girl?"

"It's kind of soon to tell. We've only been together two days," Benny confessed.

"Two days, two months, two years, it doesn't matter. If it's love, you'll know it."

"Since you put it that way, I guess it is."

"Go out there and show her who the real man is."

"The real man."

"No, say it like you mean it."

"I'm the real man."

"Louder."

"I'm the real man, darn it."

"That's the spirit."

"You sound just like Nick," said Benny.

"You know Nick?" asked Shana.

"What?"

"Never mind. Go out there and claim your prize, slugger."

"I'm the man," screamed Benny, as he trotted out of the bar like a boxer, weaving through the crowd.

Bryan the bartender put the empty plastic cup down in front of Shana and filled it with the rest of her beer. "He's gonna get his ass kicked, right?" he asked.

"Pretty much," said Shana.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: _In the Land of Oz_

Harold took Andie back to the hotel. He didn't want the risk of running into Marlena and Andie was still feeling bad about the news report from earlier – the alcohol didn't help either. As Andie lay on the bed, Harold began to give her a full body massage. Her mood was changing to Harold's advantage.

Debbie and Marlena started bar hopping. As long as they didn't run into anybody named Tony, Marlena knew they would be okay. She knew Debbie was a ticking time bomb. She wasn't sure whether to tell her about seeing Harold.

Benny was still hyped-up. He went up to Tony Brunella, ready to stand his ground. Tony was still in the same spot, but Julie wasn't there.

"Where's Julie?" asked Benny.

"She went looking for you," said Tony.

"Well, it's a good thing for you, bucko," said Benny.

"And just what do you mean by that, pretty boy?"

"It means that I'm getting the heck out of here," said Benny, as he took off from his spot. He searched around the fountain, checked the piano bar, and even peeked inside the ladies room. There was no sign of Julie. He ran out the front door and headed for Bourbon Street.

Nick walked into Tropical Isle, a bar about a block away from Pat O'Brien's. He noticed a beautiful lady wearing a baseball cap and dark sunglasses at the bar.

"Have you seen a guy about five-foot eight, brown hair, wearing a blue Polo shirt and khakis?" she asked the bartender.

"You seem to have lost somebody," Nick said to her.

"Yeah, I lost my boyfriend," said the lady.

"Can I buy you a drink while you're looking?"

"You might as well. It looks like I'm in for a long night. I don't have any idea where he went off to."

"Well, maybe I can help you find him," said Nick, who was feeling the effect of the alcohol.

"I doubt it. It's pretty crowded out here. He could be anywhere."

"You look familiar," said Nick.

"Now that's the oldest pick-up line in the book."

"No, really. I'm definitely not trying to pick you up. I'm supposed to be looking for myself."

"Well, when you find him, let me know. I need to get going. God, it sure is hot in here." The lady took off her baseball cap and let her hair down.

"It might be easier to find this guy if you took off your sunglasses," said Nick.

"I guess you're right," said the lady. As she took off the dark glasses, she recognized Nick. They had met in a strip club five years earlier. Nick had given her the most money she had ever received for a table dance. Nick figured out who she was, or at least he thought he did.

"Oh, my God - you're Cheryl Anderson," said the inebriated Nick.

Julie smiled and said, "Yeah, that's it. I'm Cheryl Anderson. Whatever you say, Nick."

"I haven't seen you since high school, and you still remember my name. Damn, you look great. You look like you haven't aged a bit since high school."

"Well, thank you. Now, I really need to be going."

"Your breasts sure got a lot bigger," said Nick.

"I really need to go..."

"Are you still a lesbian?"

"What?" asked Julie.

"Because the gay bars are a few blocks down the street, if you're looking for them. Is that guy you're looking for gay, too?"

"It's been nice talking to you. I need to find Benny." Julie scampered out the front door.

"Why would Cheryl Anderson be looking for Benny?" Nick asked himself. Suddenly, he remembered something the old lady said to him: "You are about to have your present life mixed with your past. It will deeply confuse you. You will have to seek answers from your deeper past."

"You look confused, Nick," said the observant bartender.

"How do you know my name?" asked Nick. He wasn't ready for another psychic showdown.

"I just heard that girl call you Nick so it's safe to say that's your name," he answered. Nick nodded his head in agreement. He looked closer at the bartender and noticed something familiar.

"Do I know you?" asked Nick.

"Of course you do. It's me - Bart. Would do want to drink?"

"Right – Bart," said Nick trying to save himself embarrassment. He ordered a Hand Grenade, the house special.

"I'll see you later," Nick said.

"I'm sure you will," said Bart. Nick blew off that comment then went up the stairs to the balcony, where he had a good view of Bourbon Street. It was a little quieter up there, giving more time to think about things. He looked down and saw Debbie and Marlena walk right underneath him. He looked across the street and saw Benny screaming for Julie. He saw the girl he thought was Cheryl Anderson run up to Benny and give him a hug. A car splashed a puddle of water on them as it sped by. What in the hell is in these drinks? he thought. He glanced towards the river. He had a view of the backside of the St. Louis Cathedral. There he saw a three-story tall shadow of Touchdown Jesus, which was nicknamed by locals because the out-stretched arm pose resembles a referee signaling the six-point play. The shadow was cast from a statue on the ground with floodlights, but Nick didn't know the difference. He took all of this as a sign.

Meanwhile, Gerome Elderberry exited his taxi in front of Jackson Square, located in front of the St. Louis Cathedral. He began his search for Nick.

"Are you feeling any better?" Harold asked Andie.

"Much," said Andie. "I think I'll go change. Would you do me a favor?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"Could you make a few calls and find out what happened to Mr. Wainwright?"

"No problem. You go in there and change. I'll find out everything." He made a call to Peter while Andie went into the bathroom. "Hey, it's me. What's going on?"

"Where have you been?" screamed Peter. "I've been paging you for three hours."

"I didn't bring my pager with me," said Harold. "What's the problem?"

"I'll tell what's the goddamn problem. They found the plane – with bodies on board."

"What were bodies doing on board?"

"You tell me."

"How could they find it so fast? Wasn't it supposed to crash off the coast?"

"It crashed on the coast."

"Were the bodies identifiable?"

"Yes."

"Oh, shit." said Harold.

"Damn right, oh shit," said Peter. "Carlos is going to go ballistic when he finds out. He's already upset that you stood up his niece tonight."

"I thought she went back to San Diego this morning?"

"She changed her mind. She wanted to spend the weekend with you. I told him you had to leave town on business for tonight, but promised to have you back first thing in the morning."

"That's impossible. I can't leave here. Andie will not forgive me if I did something like that."

"I already sent the jet to pick you up at the Lakefront Airport for five o'clock."

"In the morning?"

"Yes, in the morning. Make up some excuse to Andie and be here in the morning to pick up Gina. We don't want Carlos more upset than he already is when he finds out about the bodies."

"You are really pushing me to the limit, Peter."

"We made a deal, Rogers. You better live up to it. Pick up Gina at eight o'clock. She's expecting you to spend the whole day with her."

"You are being totally out of line here, Grimes," said Harold. "You can't expect me to leave here at five o'clock in the morning. It's already ten-thirty and we haven't even..."

"I'll give you sixteen good reasons, Rogers."

"You wouldn't."

"Don't push me. Carlos would love to hear about that, wouldn't he?"

"I'll be there."

"Good." Peter hung up the phone. Andie walked out the bathroom just as Harold was hanging up. She was wearing the same sexy outfit as earlier.

"What did you find out about Mr. Wainwright?"

Harold's eyes weren't as receptive to Andie's seductive attire.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"Is he dead?" Andie put her hands to her face, waiting to her terrible news.

"Actually, that's not the news I was going to tell you. It seems that Mr. Wainwright wasn't even on the plane."

"What, is he missing?"

"I'm not sure, but I have to get back home first thing in the morning."

"Why do you have to go? What could you possibly do that couldn't wait until we get back on Sunday?" She was furious.

"Well, Peter needs me back to take care of business while he finds out what happened to Mr. Wainwright."

"This is crazy. He is depending on you for way too much. He needs to learn how to do things for himself. I hate him."

"I'm sorry, Andie." He tried to give her a hug.

"You're not actually going, are you?" She pulled away from the hug attempt.

"It's my job. I don't have any choice."

Andie ran back into the bathroom and came out a few minutes later wearing her regular clothes.

"Why don't you go downstairs to the front desk, and see if you can find yourself another room?"

"You're kidding," said the stunned Harold.

"Hell no, I'm not. If I'm not important enough for you to stay the entire weekend, you can leave right now. You don't have to wait until morning."

Harold started to put his shirt back on. He looked at Andie, who even looked sexier when she was angry. He stared at his suitcase then back at her.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he said, as he grabbed his suitcase. "I will make this up to you. I promise."

Andie turned her head as he tried to give her a kiss.

Debbie and Marlena muddled around the French quarter. They realized that to make their flight, they needed to get to bed. They took a cab back to the Hilton and walked through the front lobby. Marlena saw Harold trying to get another room. Debbie looked at Harold and stopped.

"Am I drunk, Marlena?" she asked.

"I'd say you're way on the other side of tipsy," said Marlena.

"I'm glad, because that man over there looks just like the son-of-a-bitch who just fired me." Harold froze as he recognized the familiar voice. He didn't dare turn around.

"Keep your voice down, Deb. We don't want to get thrown out. Besides, there is no way that man is your ex-boss."

"Well, lucky for him," said Debbie, "Because if it was, I'd go over there and kick his ass."

"Let's just get you to bed, honey," said Marlena, as she steered Debbie to the elevator. She looked over her shoulder and saw Harold sneak a peek at them. She flipped him the finger.

"Maybe I should try another hotel," Harold told Damien, who was still on duty.

As he walked out the front door, a cab stopped in front of him. Julie and Benny came out of it.

"It'll only take me a few minutes to change" Julie said to Benny, as they walked in front of Harold. Benny turned around and glanced at Harold.

"That guy looks exactly like Andie's new boyfriend," said Benny.

Julie grabbed his hand. "Please don't start that again. Let's just hurry up and get into some fresh clothes so we can get back to the Quarter."

Debbie was feeling a little lightheaded so Marlena left the room to get a Coke for her. Benny and Julie stepped off the elevator as Marlena walked by. Benny turned his head and looked.

"That girl looks..."

"That's enough, darling," said Julie. She put her card in the slot to open their room door.

"But she looks just like the girl at Balls and Burgers," said Benny, as Julie pulled him into the room. Debbie heard Benny's voice. She jumped off the bed and opened her door at the same time Benny closed his. Marlena was coming back with the Coke.

"What are you doing out here?" asked Marlena.

"I swear I just heard Benny talking about Balls and Burgers."

"Get back in there, sweetie. You've had a long day."

"That's Debbie's voice," said Benny. He opened his door the same moment Marlena closed theirs.

"Sweetheart, you are going nuts. I don't think I'm the one doing it to you," said Julie. "Come on, let's change." She took off her sweatshirt and Benny went wild at the sight of her black bra-covered breasts. In an instant, he forgot why he was going crazy.

"God, that couple next door sure is noisy," said Marlena.

"Tony used to make me scream like that," said Debbie. She started sobbing.

"Oh, come on. It'll be okay," said Marlena, as she got out of her bed and crawled into Debbie's. She hugged Debbie until she stopped crying and fell asleep. Marlena was also feeling the alcohol. She fell asleep right next to Debbie.

Why didn't I pack my vibrator? Andie thought to herself. That couple next door is doing exactly what I should be doing. Maybe I was too hard on Harold. After all, it's his job and he has to follow orders. She heard the muffled sound of Julie screaming, Yes, yes – YES! She thought the same thing to herself.

"Damn it, I didn't bring a handsome man all the way to New Orleans just to kick him out of my room," she said out loud. She threw on some clothes and went to the lobby.

Elderberry turned the corner onto Bourbon Street just as Nick was getting into a cab. The cab drove in front of him, but he didn't notice Nick. He walked into several clubs and bars looking for Nick. He flashed a picture but nobody would admit they saw him. When he made it to the east end of Bourbon Street, he found himself walking into the Pub, a gay bar. He confronted the bartender.

"I'm looking for this man. Have you seen him?"

The bartender smiled at him. "Maybe. What's in it for me?"

"You'll have the satisfaction of knowing you're helping a law enforcement official track down a suspected killer."

"You're a beautiful man."

"Thank you, now have you seen him or not?"

"My name's Jude. What's yours?"

"I'm Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry of the New Lake City Homicide Department."

"I think I have seen him. I saw him go into Oz, that club across the street. Talk to Keith. He'll hook you up."

"Thank you very much," said Elderberry, as he left to go to Oz. Jude got on the phone.

"Hey, Keith. You got a real pretty one about to walk into your front door."

"Thanks," said Keith, the head bartender. He motioned the stripper to get down from the bar. "Jude said there's a good one about to come in. Plant a big one on him."

As Elderberry walked in, the stripper went right to him and laid a big kiss right on his lips.

"Just what in the hell are you doing?" screamed Elderberry.

"Come with me behind the bar. I'm Robby," said the stripper. Elderberry thought it might be some kind of underground contact to find Nick, so he went along with it.

"Are you the contact to help me find Pel-tire?"

"Whatever you say, gorgeous," said Robby.

He gave Elderberry a shot of Crown Royal. "This'll loosen you up."

"For what?"

Robby started taking off Elderberry's clothes. "Trust me, just go with it," he said.

"What in the goddamn hell are you doing?" asked the startled Gerome.

"This will help you find any man your heart desires. Drink your shot."

Elderberry was exhausted from the traveling, lack of sleep, and the relentless pursuit of Nick.

"Oh, what the hell." He drank the Crown Royal. "Give me another one." He was down to his silk boxers as he drank his second shot.

Robby pushed him up on the bar and hollered, "Just shake what you got, baby." The boys in the club went wild when they saw Elderberry on the bar in his boxers. He was still nervous so he screamed for another shot. Keith gave him the bottle and Gerome started sucking it down as the crowd went wild. He was thrilled with the attention and started moving to the music. A star was born.

Nick's cab pulled up to the Hilton. He walked through the lobby and saw Andie at the front desk.

"So you have no idea what hotel he went to?" she asked Damien.

"I'm sorry ma'am," Damien remarked. Andie strolled back across the lobby to the elevator. Nick was leaning against the piano in the lobby while he watched Andie get into the elevator.

"That's a pretty lady you're looking at," said the piano player.

"She's beautiful," said Nick. He turned to look at the piano player.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Yes, what?" asked Nick.

"Do you have a request?"

"No."

"So why are you just staring at me?"

"I figure if I look at you long enough, you'll turn into somebody from my past, too. That's all I've been seeing tonight."

"That doesn't sound like a request."

"It's not."

"That doesn't even sound sane," said the piano player.

"Right now, I don't think I am."

"Let me just pick a song for you," said the keyboardist. He started playing How Deep is Your Love, a Bee Gees song from the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. A little tear started to flow from Nick's eye.

"That's Andie's favorite song," he said to himself. "God, I hate that song."

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: _Know Where You Got Your Shoes_

The first glimmer of daybreak entered Debbie's room. It caught her eye as she smacked her dry lips. She felt a pair of soft arms wrapped around her. One arm was caressing her belly, while the other was underneath her. She turned over and saw Marlena still asleep. Not remembering how they got into this position, Debbie thought, I know I've been upset at men, but this is a little extreme.

Andie was finishing her second cup of coffee from the room's in-house pot. The news report on TV was covering the airplane crash site. The victims were flying in Wainwright's plane, but he was not one of them. She knew something wasn't quite right.

Benny and Julie staggered in from their night on the town. After the sex session that Andie and Debbie overheard, they went back to the Quarter and stayed out all night. They jumped into bed and collapsed.

Nick was still sleeping. He stayed up until five am, talking to the piano player. This time, it was the piano player that did most of the talking. He told Nick a story, which paralleled Nick's. The man had lost what he thought was the love of his life to another woman. He also had a feeling that Satan was following him everywhere he went. When Nick asked him how everything turned out, the man told him how he was just released from a mental institution. That was where he learned to play piano.

Harold was driving up to Carlos' front door. He drove from the airport just in time to pick up Gina, who was walking out the door as he drove up.

"You look like shit, baby," said Gina.

"Had kind of a rough night – and please don't call me _baby_ ," said Harold.

"Okay – lover." She laughed as she jumped into the car and licked Harold's cheek in a long, seductive motion. Harold slumped lower in his seat and drove away.

Peter was walking into his office to find Carlos waiting.

"Carlos, so nice to see you. How did you get in here?"

"What's all this mess with the plane crash?" Carlos asked.

"There's no mess. Everything is fine."

"Fine? You call this fine? Wainwright's plane was found on shore with bodies in it – and none of them were Wainwright's."

"No need to panic..."

"I am not panicking. A Verona doesn't panic. He finds answers."

"Well, I have an answer."

"This better be good."

"It is," said Peter. "You see, we, uh, decided to have live bodies on the plane to make the plane crash seem more natural."

"How natural is this? Wainwright's plane crashes and he isn't on the plane. What did the plane's records show?"

"Well, it showed that Wainwright was on board."

"Well, where the hell is he?" Carlos yelled. His grey fedora fell off his head, revealing his just dyed hair.

"Settle down, Carlos. We both know where he is."

"But where in the hell do the authorities believe he is?"

"They think he jumped off the plane. They found three bodies on a four passenger plane."

"So, they're searching for him?"

"As we speak."

"Who were the victims? You promised me no victims – no real deaths. What if this all comes back to me?"

"Don't worry. I'm finding out everything. Absolutely nothing will be linked to you in any way, shape, or form."

"You act like everything is under control."

"Of course it is. Everything is fine. We just changed plans a little."

"Well, next time, inform me of the changes. I don't like surprises. You better stick to your end of the deal and make sure that man continues to suffer."

"No problem, Carlos. Did Harold pick up Gina?" He was trying to change the subject.

"I would assume so. I left before eight o'clock."

"I'm sure he's showing her a good time."

"Okay - it looks like everything is going all right," said Carlos. He started to calm down. "I'm going against my better judgment and trust you on this. I'm going back to my home. You let me know if anything changes - understand?"

"Yes, sir. I sure do." Peter let Carlos out the door and started hyperventilating. "Oh – my – God," he said to himself.

"You know what I want to do today?" asked Gina.

"No – and I'm afraid I don't want to know," said Harold.

"Let's take Uncle Carlos' jet to New Orleans."

"What? No - absolutely not. There is no possible way I'm taking you to New Orleans."

"That's too bad. I would hate for Uncle Carlos to find out exactly what we've been doing," she threatened.

"You wouldn't?"

Gina smiled. "It's nice to be in control. I'll just call the airport and they can have the plane ready to go within the hour. We'll have a great time." Harold turned the car around and went back to the airport.

As Debbie slid away from Marlena's still-sleeping hug, she checked herself out to make sure all her clothes were still on. Marlena started waking up.

"Are you feeling better, sweetie?" asked the waking Marlena.

"I think so. Just what in the hell happened?"

"Don't worry about it. You'll be fine. We need to repack and get to the airport. Our plane leaves at ten."

She got out the bed and walked to the bathroom. Debbie stared at Marlena's perfect body. I guess if I'd start liking women, she'd be a good one to do, thought Debbie.

Andie decided to take advantage of being by herself. She got dressed and went downstairs. There were plenty of brochures showing places to go. She took a walk along the river, sat on a bench, and watched the ships go by. It was a relaxing, cool spring morning as the breeze blew from the Mississippi. It gave her plenty of time to think. She watched a saxophone player belting out his sound, which seemed to echo across the river. An old black man walked up to her.

"Excuse me, miss. I see you have some lovely shoes on," he said.

Andie didn't quite know what to make of this, so she just said, "Thank you."

"You know, I bet you five dollars I can tell you exactly where you got your shoes."

Andie bought her shoes at Ramone's Boutique in her building. There was no way this man could know that, she thought.

"Okay, you're on."

"You got your shoes right there on your feet in New Orleans, Louisiana."

"You're wrong," said Andie. "I bought them at Ramone's Boutique in New Lake City."

"I didn't say where you bought them, lady. I said I could tell you where you got them. Look at your shoes. Right now, you got them on your feet, in New Orleans, Louisiana."

A con artist had just duped Andie. She reached into her purse and gave the man five dollars.

"Are all the street people as slick as you?" she asked.

"No ma'am. I'm the best," said the proud street hustler.

She got up and walked to the French Quarter. She ate beignets at Café Du Monde as she listened to the trumpet player. He pointed her out and asked if she had a request.

"Anything would be fine," she told him.

"You seem a little lost," said Horace.

"No, I'm just enjoying the scenery."

"I'm not talking about that kind of lost, pretty lady. You see that woman over there?" He pointed to the old blind woman.

"Yes."

"You wipe that powdered sugar off that pretty little face and go over there. You tell that woman Horace sent you. She'll fix you up."

"Excuse me, sir, but I don't need fixing up." Horace started laughing and began playing Hello Dolly. Andie wasn't quite sure what to make of this. She had just been conned once and had the feeling it would happen again if she talked to this woman. Being the naïve soul she was, she decided to give it a try. She approached the old lady, who stopped shuffling cards as she heard Andie's footsteps.

"You seek my advice?" asked the woman.

"Horace sent me," said Andie. She could tell right away that the woman was blind.

"You are troubled," said the woman, as she laid the tarot cards on the tray.

"This is part of your set-up, right?"

"You are a non-believer."

"I'm just tired of being taken for granted."

"Your lover does not show you proper attention." A reversed Lovers card was dealt.

"See? That's a basic question. I wouldn't even call him my lover, because..."

"He leaves when it is time for intimacy." She dealt a reversed Justice card.

"Exactly," Andie agreed.

"He left you in this city all alone while he attends other matters." She put the card back into the deck.

"Right," said Andie. "Hey - how did you know that?"

"It's right here in the cards." Andie was impressed. "What else does it show?"

"I see false affection." She changed the deck. The first card pulled was the Fool.

"On whose part?"

"Both."

"Both?"

"Yes, both. Your so-called lover is showing you attention only to get you to make love with him."

"And myself?"

"You are just horny, my dear." She smiled as she pulled an upright Empress card.

Andie turned red. "How do you know this?"

"It's in the cards. This is what I do. Haven't you figured this out by now?"

"I'm sorry. Tell me more."

"It'll cost you." Andie took twenty dollars out her purse and handed it to her. The woman took the money, turned over another card, and froze.

"What's the matter," asked Andie.

"I see something amazing." An upright Lovers card showed up next.

"What?"

"I see a true love."

"Who is it?"

"It isn't the man you are connected to right now, at least not physically."

"What do you mean by that? I'm not connected to anyone physically right now."

"But you sure have been trying with the one you are with."

"I guess you could say that," Andie stated, as she blushed.

"I just did. You're just as evasive as Nick."

Andie was baffled. "Did you just say Nick?"

"Yes, didn't you hear me?"

"Why did you say his name?"

"Because he is the object of your desires." She dealt a reversed Strength card.

"No way – not Nick."

"You have been having erotic dreams about Nick."

"Maybe so, but there is no possible way that Nick is the object of my desires, as you so casually put it."

The old lady just smiled.

"You are confusing the heck out of me," said Andie. "Here you are, knowing Nick's name, which is amazing, but saying that he is the one my heart needs is the most asinine thing I have ever heard."

"You doubt me?"

"Yes and no."

"Well, for five dollars, I can really tell you where you got your shoes."

"I know, I got my shoes, on my feet, in New Orleans, Louisiana," Andie proclaimed.

"That may be where you got them now, but you bought them at a store near to where you spend most of your time. Would that be work?" She didn't need any cards to come up with that one.

Once again, Andie was amazed. "You have to excuse me, ma'am. I'm really stunned here. You've nailed everything down, except for the Nick part. It's an amazing gift you have there but you shouldn't tell people things that just aren't true. It'll confuse the hell out of them."

"As you are now."

"Right."

"Then my job is done."

"What job are you talking about?"

"You will find out, my dear. You will find out." Andie gazed into the dark sunglasses the woman was wearing and didn't move.

"You'll have to get going now. There are people waiting," said the lady.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Look in back of you. There are people waiting."

Andie turned around to see a line of curious on-lookers waiting their turn. "I'm leaving now. I don't know what to make of everything you just told me, but I want to at least thank you for the entertainment."

The lady started laughing again.

"What's so funny?" asked Andie.

"You're in for a lot more than just entertainment," she said while still laughing. "Next."

Andie walked away and started thinking. How did she know about me dreaming about Nick, much less even knowing his name? How did she know about me not making love to Harold and him leaving to take care of business? How did she know where I got my shoes? What if she was right about Nick being what her heart desires?

A street kid walked up to Andie at that moment and said, "Hey lady, for five dollars, I can tell you where you got your shoes."

"Oh yeah? Well, for ten dollars, I won't be putting these shoes up your ass."

The kid ran away in fear. Andie couldn't believe she just said that. She lowered her head in embarrassment, as two older ladies had just witnessed her threat.

CHAPTER FORTY: _When in Gerome_

The cab dropped Debbie and Marlena off at the airport. When they reached their gate, they saw the three couples from Pat O'Brien's.

"Hi," said Marlena. "It's nice to see you girls here to see your men off."

"Oh, we're going with them to Miami," said Sara.

"What happened to separate vacations?" asked Debbie.

Melissa jumped in. "Hey, all of us are in love with our men. It doesn't make sense to be apart, so we decided to make the trip together. I guess we're all on the same flight."

"I guess so," said Debbie. She felt tears welling up in her eyes as she told Marlena, "Isn't it sweet to have someone to love?"

"Oh, right," said Marlena. "I'm sure the fact that that we're on this flight had nothing to do with them changing their plans."

Sara, Marcia, and Melissa gave Marlena the evil eye as they escorted Tony, Lonny, and Jay onto the plane. All three guys turned around and waved to Debbie and Marlena. They could hear the girls telling them to stop it.

Gerome Elderberry woke up in a strange bed. He was wearing his silk boxers and nothing else. The room had a putrid odor and was decorated with photos of male dancers. The door opened as Gerome grabbed the sheets and covered himself.

"You sure made a splash for yourself, big boy," said Keith, the head bartender at Oz.

"What in the hell am I doing here, and where are my goddamn clothes?"

"They're right next to the bed, sweetie. You were fabulous last night."

Elderberry freaked out. "What do you mean by that?" Keith gave him a wink and left the room. Gerome's head was pounding. He had no recollection of what happened to him. He put on his clothes, making sure his gun was still there, and walked out the door. It led into the bar area of Oz. Keith approached him and handed him two hundred dollars.

"Thanks for a great night," said Keith. Elderberry looked at the money, then at Keith.

"Oh – My – God," said Elderberry. He ran out the front door as the early afternoon sun glared his eyes. Three young men met him who had witnessed his performance the night before. They started applauding him.

"You were awesome last night, baby," said one of them.

Gerome was red-faced as he asked them, "Which way to the Hilton?"

"I'll be glad to take you there," said the young man.

"Never mind," said Elderberry. He ran down Bourbon Street until he found a cab.

Carlos' private jet landed at the Lakefront Airport and pulled into the same spot Harold had just left about eight hours before. A limousine was waiting for them. They jumped in and Gina pushed the button that raised the privacy window. She started taking off Harold's clothes.

"We can't keep doing this," objected Harold. "This is insane."

"You're absolutely right," said Gina. "I'm getting tired of these quickies myself. We can do it right when we get to our room at the Hilton."

"The what?"

"The Hilton. That's where I told the travel agent to put us for tonight."

"No way. We can't stay there. Anyplace but there."

"Settle down, lover. It's a great hotel. My family always stays there."

"But there's got to be hundreds of places to stay there. Can't we go someplace else?"

"Don't worry, baby. You'll love it."

"I'm a dead man," Harold mumbled.

Nick woke up, surprised about not being hung-over. His mind was clear and he had a sense of purpose. He got his belongings together and called the front desk to arrange a rental car for him. He was getting ready for his drive to Lafayette. It was time for him to find some answers.

Elderberry's cab pulled up to the Hilton front entrance, right behind the cab, which was waiting to take Nick to his rental car. Gerome walked through one of the front doors just as Nick was walking out another. When he got to the front desk, he found out Nick had just checked out. He ran back to the front door, just as Gina and Harold pulled up. He moved to the side and recognized Harold. That's the lawyer who was at the table next to Pel-tire at the bistro the other day, thought Gerome. He followed them back into the hotel and kept his distance as they checked in.

"Your room isn't quite ready yet, sir," said the clerk. "If you'd like you can wait in the lobby and we'll get you when it's ready. It'll just be a few minutes."

"We can wait in the bar," said Gina.

"No, the lobby will be just fine," said Harold. They sat on the couch as Elderberry sat in a chair right in back of them, facing the opposite direction.

"Why are you so uptight?" asked Gina.

"You honestly don't know?"

"Not really."

"I'm in another state, checking into a hotel room with..." – he stopped to see if anyone was listening. He didn't notice Elderberry right behind him. He lowered his voice and said, "with a minor who just happens to be the niece of Carlos Verona, our biggest client."

Elderberry smiled as he listened closer. He grabbed a magazine and pretended to read.

"Quit being such a prude, Walls," said Gina. "We're just here to have a good time. Nobody here gives a shit that I'm only sixteen. Besides, I'll be seventeen next week."

"Keep it down," said Harold. "I'm in enough trouble as it is."

Andie walked through the front door at that moment. Harold saw her then grabbed Gina and threw her on the couch as he planted a huge kiss on her. It was the only thing he could think of doing to hide from Andie. Elderberry also noticed Andie and held the magazine over his face.

"That's more like it," said Gina. "I hope our room is ready soon." She grabbed Harold's face, pulled it down to hers, and continued kissing him. What is she doing here? thought Gerome, as he watched Andie get on the elevator. Pel-tire has left and that man is here with the sixteen year-old niece of Carlos Verona. That lady I saw him with at the lunch meeting the other day just walked by and he was trying to hide from her. Something isn't quite right.

Harold got up from his position, much to Gina's disappointment.

"That was close," said Harold.

"What do you mean? I was just getting started," said Gina.

"Gina, what do you want from me?" asked Harold.

"I thought it was obvious. You haven't figured that out yet?"

"No, really. You are an extremely attractive girl, I mean, young lady. Why are you pursuing me like this?"

"Chill out, Walls. I like you. I just want to have a little fun."

"But you know how much trouble I could be in if somebody finds out what we've been doing?"

"Don't worry about it. I have Uncle Carlos wrapped around my little finger."

"It doesn't matter what you would do. If he finds out, he'll kill me." Once again, he looked around to see if anyone was listening. Elderberry was slumped low in the high-back chair. Harold didn't see him.

"Uncle Carlos wouldn't kill anybody. That's why he hired you guys." Gerome's eyes lit up. Harold's face turned white.

"What do you mean by that?" asked a shocked Harold.

"Oh, come on. I know what's been going on. Uncle Carlos has this bad-boy gangster reputation. Everyone thinks he got where he is today by being a tough guy. He's just a sweet pussycat. You should know that."

"He doesn't seem like a pussycat to me," said Harold. "In fact, it's just the opposite."

"It's all an act. He wouldn't hurt a fly. You guys are doing all the dirty work for him."

"It's not dirty work. We're just handling all the legal problems he keeps getting into."

"Yeah, right. I know all about the record company deal he's got with you guys."

"What do you mean?"

"That seems to be your favorite question today. You know what I mean."

"No – really. I don't."

"God, you are such a bad actor. I know all about Zipper Down being, uh, put aside, if you will. It was all a big publicity stunt to get Apocalypse out of the hole before Uncle Carlos turns it over to you. The feds think that he has something to do with Zipper Down's death. For all I know, you might be the one who killed him."

"Are you crazy? I didn't have anything to do with it. What else do you know?"

"You really don't know what's going on?"

"Apparently not."

"Well, I know Wainwright isn't dead."

"Did your Uncle tell you that?"

"No. I saw Wainwright during the week. I know the whole story about why Uncle Carlos doesn't want him dead just yet. It's kind of sad, really."

"Where did you see him?"

Gina smiled. "Are you toying with me?"

"No, I'm not. Nobody is supposed to know about this."

"So you do know what's going on."

"Not entirely. Do you know who killed Zipper Down?"

Gina continued smiling. "You're so cute. It doesn't make a difference to me that you're a cold-blooded murderer. In fact, it's kind of a turn-on."

"I didn't kill anybody," shouted Harold, as he stood up. He froze for a second, as everybody in the lobby stared at him.

"Uh, sir? Your room is ready now," said the clerk. Harold grabbed the key and darted to the elevator. Gina was skipping behind him. Elderberry lowered his magazine. This is getting interesting, he thought. The elevator opened in front of him and Andie walked out, carrying her suitcase. Harold and Gina had just gotten into the adjoining elevator. Elderberry put the magazine back up and listened as Andie checked out.

"I won't be staying here the whole two days," Andie said to the clerk. "Is it too late to check out?"

"Well, your voucher was good for two nights, Miss Jenson. There won't be an additional charge either way," said the clerk.

"Thank you. I'm going home early. I think I owe someone an apology." She grabbed her bag and walked out the front door. Elderberry watched as she got in a cab. All of a sudden, he heard a voice.

"Look, Mitch, it's that stud dancer we saw last night at the club," said the drag queen, who was running up to Gerome.

"Get the goddamn hell away from me," hollered Elderberry. He ran out the front door. The drag queen followed him.

"Come back here, sweetheart. I didn't get to tip you last night." Andie's cab made the circle and passed in front of the lobby doors to get to the airport. She noticed Elderberry running out, followed by the drag queen. That man looks a little familiar, she thought.

The phone rang in Jamie's office. "O'Malley," she said.

"Hi, O'Malley, it's Jude," said the bartender from the Pub. "We have Elderberry tracked down to the Hilton. You didn't tell me he was such a good looking man."

"You have to stop him," said Jamie. "We can't have him finding Nick just yet."

"No problem. Nick left in a cab and Elderberry is being chased by one of Keith's dancers across the Riverwalk as we speak."

"Great work," said Jamie. "Keep in touch and don't lose track of him."

"That goes without saying," said Jude. "The pleasure is all ours."

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE: _The Conning Linguist_

Peter Grimes was on the phone, trying to find out information about the plane crash.

"What in the hell happened?" screamed Peter. "I get you out of jail and this is the results I get?"

"I'm sorry, Pete," said the voice on the other end. "We got our wires crossed somewhere."

"That's a piss-poor excuse, and don't call me Pete."

"Sorry."

"Damn you, Peltier. You told me you were an electronics wizard. You were supposed to arrange a plane crash with nobody on board. The plane was supposed to crash way offshore and no survivors were to be found."

"Well, no survivors were found, Pete."

"You idiot – that's because all three people on the plane died – and quit calling me Pete."

"Sorry Pete," said the white-haired gentleman on the line.

"Shit," screamed Peter. "And just who in the hell were those people on the plane that died?"

"You're going to love this one, Pete. They were the last people on the liver transplant list in front of that Verona guy."

Peter was stunned. "What did you just say?"

"I said that they were the last people on that transplant list. Is there a bad connection or something?"

"That's what I thought you said."

"Well, I'm glad your hearing isn't going."

"My hearing is just fine. How did you even know about the list?"

"Ms. Vanderhousen has been keeping in touch with me. She's been letting me know what's going on around there. She's a sweet lady."

"Vanderhousen? She had no business doing that. Where in the hell is she? Damn it, how did you get her to do that?

"I was a good friend of her third husband. We met in the joint."

"She married an ex-con?"

"Hell, her other two husbands were ex-cons, too. She loved the touch of a man who's served time. I think I'm going to take her out when I get back." Peter was feeling a little sick. He never thought of Ursula in any way other than his faithful secretary. The thought of her being with low-life cons was something he couldn't handle.

"Well, she's not here. She called saying there was some type of family emergency or something."

"That's odd. She hasn't missed work in a while," said the gentleman.

"Ever," said Peter. "Never mind about her. I'll deal with her later." He was uneasy with the fact that someone knew more about Ursula than he did.

"Hey, easy, Pete. Save some for me," the gentleman laughed.

Now Peter was feeling nauseous. "Don't worry about that. I'm a happily married man. Now, just tell me..."

"That's not what your wife told me," the man chuckled.

"What - my wife? - What were you doing talking, hell, never mind. Just tell me how you arranged to have all those people killed," Peter was frazzled.

"Hey, I learned a lot in prison, Pete. I arranged a contest for an African Safari and rigged it so those three people were the only winners. Pretty clever, hey Pete?"

Grimes was livid. "Why didn't you tell me about this plan, Peltier?"

"I wanted to show you how resourceful I was. I found out about the Carlos Verona deal and decided to speed up the process a little. Now, that kid can have his liver and you'll get more money than you ever dreamed of."

"Oh, God. You are a complete moron. Do you know how suspicious this is going to look? What are the odds of all three of those people on the list being on an African safari at the same time and all dying in a plane crash?"

"Not too good, obviously."

"Damn right, not too good. It's going to look ridiculous. All fingers will be pointing directly at Carlos."

"Hold on, Pete. That's why I used Verona Travel as the contest sponsors. All fingers will point to him. You'll be home free. You'll have control of everything Carlos was working for."

Peter held the phone for a few seconds. "You know what, Peltier?"

"Please, Pete, enough of this last name crap. Just call me Dave."

"Okay, Dave. Maybe you're on to something. What about Wainwright?"

"I got that covered, Pete. Every link to Wainwright in this area was destroyed and I got all the documents showing he was on the plane. The locals believe it, too. Since Wainwright was never even here, it was no problem convincing them that one of those passengers was William Joseph Wainwright. The only person who ever saw me sign anything was a little boy who couldn't read. Wainwright is part of the local folklore here."

"What about the media and the fact that his body wasn't found?"

"These guys are so easy, Pete. They just want a story. They'll eat up the fact that Wainwright died from the plane crash. They love stories like that. Riptide."

"What do you mean?"

"Riptide. The authorities will be led to believe that his body was carried out into the ocean by riptide. It happened at the right time of day and the plane was close enough to the water for that to actually happen. I got it all figured out. Those media fools should be here anytime."

Peter started smiling. "Maybe you're right, Peltier."

"Please, Pete. It's Dave."

"Right – Dave."

"That's better, Pete. Now you can really get rid of Wainwright. Saving him for Carlos won't be a factor anymore."

"Dave, you're a genius."

"Hey, I've been here a year. I've learned a lot. It's amazing how people can be so easily manipulated with just a phone and fax machine."

"Thanks, Dave. I'll keep in touch. I'll get you back here in a couple of days."

"Thanks, Pete," said Dave Peltier. He hung up the phone and thought, Now the real fun begins.

Nick was driving west on I-10. He hadn't been on that road for seventeen years. He started thinking about Lafayette. He had no idea what he was looking for, but knew the answer would be found there. He got his second look at the Mississippi River as he crossed it in Baton Rouge. He was traveling across the Atchafalaya swamp and realized how peaceful it looked. He thought about his relationship with Jamie and smiled about it. It was really great. He had been so in love with her. All those years, all he could think about was the breakup. It felt good to be able to think back on the good times they shared. He smiled as he thought about Maw-Maw. He thought about his mother and father, wondering what it would have been like to have a family with a mom and dad. And for the first time in years, he started wondering whatever happened to his Uncle Dave.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: _The Grand Pooper Scooper_

"She has been missing for two days now," said a frantic Tony, to the missing person's officer.

"And you say that her car is still at the auditorium," said Officer Gillis.

"Si, and her..."

"Wait a second, where are you from?"

"I am from Italy. Why do you ask?"

"So, why are you looking for this woman?"

"She is my pasticcio."

"Your what?" asked the confused officer.

"You know, a pasticcio, that little cake-like thing that is, uh, somewhat smaller than a cake that is big."

"You mean a cupcake?"

"Right, she is my cupcake," explained Tony.

"Oh, you mean your sweetheart, your sweetie pie, your girlfriend."

"Yes. You are getting the hang of this."

"Look, don't patronize me."

"My sincere apologies, officer," pleaded Tony

"So why do you think she's missing?" asked Gillis.

"Because she is not here."

Officer Velma Gillis had been on the force for twenty years. She was a heavy-set woman, never wore make-up, and was meaner than most men on the force. Her hair was pulled in a bun so tight it helped smooth most of the wrinkles in her face. She had heard every story she could imagine – or at least she thought.

"So what do you want me to do?" she asked.

"I would like for you to find her."

"You want me to put aside all these reports of missing kids, wives, husbands, and other family members so you can find your cupcake?"

"Yes."

"Listen here, sonny, I don't have time to waste looking for a girlfriend. Did you two have a fight?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, we did. How did you know?"

"I've heard this story many times. Boyfriend and girlfriend get in a fight, girlfriend leaves town for a few days and doesn't let boyfriend know, and boyfriend files a missing person's report."

"So you will not help me?"

"Right, now run along. I don't have time to be wasting on pansy boyfriend-girlfriend problems."

"Ah, il dolce far niente," said Tony, as he walked away.

"What did you just say?" asked Officer Gillis.

Tony turned around. "I said, il dolce far niente."

"I heard you. I meant - what does that mean in English?"

"It means the sweetness of doing nothing."

"And just _what_ did you mean by that?"

"It was not meant to be disrespectful. I was just quoting my father. Those were his last words before he was run over by a bread truck."

"That's horrible," said Gillis.

"Yes. He was laying down in his letto when..."

"Wait a second - what's a letto?"

"It is a bed. We had a letto, I'm sorry; a bed set up in our back yard. My father was trying to sleep after a hard day of working in the vino fields."

"He was a grape picker?"

"No, he scooped merda from the asses."

"He did what from where?"

"You know, he scooped the, um, poop from the ass."

"I don't quite know what you're trying to say, son."

"You know – ass – hee-haw, hee-haw."

"Oh – you mean donkeys. He scooped the poop from the donkeys in the wine fields?" Gillis was struggling to keep from laughing.

"Yes. Grande Pooper Scooper was his nickname. He was so very tired that night when he just wanted to relax on the backyard letto. He said to me, as I brought him a glass of vino, Ah, il dolce far niente. At that moment, a runaway bread truck came crashing through our back yard. I froze. I could not do anything. The truck ran over my father, crushing him like the grapes that were crushed at the winery – where he had dreamed of working someday. That someday never came." He paused then glanced up to the ceiling. "He's poop scooping the heavens right now."

Officer Gillis was amazed. Nobody could make up a story like that.

"I'll help you find your girlfriend, son."

"Grazie," said the elated Tony. "I love America."

"Well, I love it, too. I'm glad we can help you. That's what this great country is all about." Gillis proclaimed.

"My father would be so proud," said Tony. This was true. Being a souvenir salesman and con artist, Tony's father taught him young about the art of deceiving.

Officer Gillis was holding back her tears of laughter. It was the most ridiculous story she ever heard. She knew she had to help Tony. He sincerely needed it.

Benny and Julie started to wake up. They had a quickie and got dressed. The elevator brought them to the lobby so they could go back to the French Quarter. When the door opened, they were face-to-face with Elderberry, who was worn out from running away from the drag queen. He was on his way to Harold and Gina's room.

"Hey, you're Detective Elderberry," said Benny. "What are you doing here?"

"Don't any of you people stay in New Lake City?" he asked. "It would make my job so much goddamn easier." He got out of the elevator and closed the door.

"What was that all about?" asked Julie.

"I have no idea," said Benny. They walked outside when the thought hit him. "Unless he's here to question me about Kat."

Gerome was halfway to the floor he needed when it also hit him. Hey, what the hell is that guy doing in New Orleans? He got out the elevator on the next floor and ran down the stairs.

"Benny, why would he want to question you? Don't you think he would have questioned Kat by now?" asked Julie.

"Unless he couldn't find her. Why else would he be here? Why would a homicide detective from New Lake City be in New Orleans when he's working on a case? He's after me." Benny turned around and saw Elderberry in the lobby, running after them. "Oh, crap." He took off running. Elderberry stopped by Julie.

"Why is Myers running?" he asked her, as he was out of breath.

"He thinks you're after him. He thinks you want to question him about Zipper Down's murder. He thinks you're a raving lunatic. He thinks you are the last person who is going to ruin this weekend for him. He thinks you better stay away from him and leave us alone so I don't have to kick your ass."

"Lady, are you threatening me?"

"Oh, it's not a threat. I know who you are, Elderberry. We have the same agent."

"What the goddamn hell are you talking about?"

"Gary Bell. You do know him, don't you?"

Gerome was quiet for a second. "Why should I know that sleazy bastard?"

"Wasn't he your agent about four years ago when you did that photo shoot for..."

"Stop. Nobody was supposed to know that was me."

"Well, I know. Gary is my agent right now. He showed me the pictures. You actually have a nice body, but as for your..."

"Never mind. Are you hinting at a possible blackmail scheme?"

"No, I'd never do that. I've just been having a tough time getting Benny to relax. It seems that every time he turns around, he sees something that reminds him of home. I really like this guy. He didn't kill anybody. He needs a break. Why don't you just leave us alone for the rest of this weekend and I'm sure he'll be more than happy to talk to you on Monday. Understand?"

"You people sure are making it hard for a cop to earn a living. Okay, I'll leave you two alone the rest of the weekend. I'll have my hands full with the nympho and pervert for a while anyway."

"I don't quite know what you mean by that, and frankly, I don't care. Here's hoping to not be seeing you soon." She turned and walked away.

"What a bitch," Elderberry said as he turned back to the hotel. He had just missed Harold and Gina walking out.

Carlos was at home, having dinner with his wife and son when the phone rang. The maid brought the phone to Carlos.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your dinner sir, but you might want to take this call," said the maid.

Carlos picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Carlos, Peter Grimes here."

"Why the hell are you disturbing my dinner, Grimes? This better be good."

"Oh it is, sir. You better start thinking about getting Frank ready for surgery. He's next on the list."

Carlos jumped up from his chair. "Fantastic. Frank, get your clothes packed. We're going get you a new liver."

"Hang on, Carlos," said Peter. "I said he was next on the list. I didn't say he has a donor yet."

"That's just a minor technicality, Grimes. You do what you have to do. We'll meet you at the hospital." He hung up the phone.

"Oh, shit," said Peter. He hung up then dialed the number in Africa. After a few minutes, he got the connection.

"Peltier here," said Dave.

"Dave, it's Pete. There's been a change of plans. We need you to come back now."

"No can do, Pete. I have to finish the business over here first."

"But Carlos is on his way to the hospital with Frank right now. He thinks the operation is already set."

"And just who gave him that information?"

"Well, I sort of did."

"And who's the idiot now, Pete?"

"I guess that would be me, Dave," said Peter, swallowing a huge dose of pride.

"Sure would, Pete. Gotta go. I'll see you in a few days."

Peter listened as the click signaled the hang-up. "I guess I'll just have to take care of this myself."

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE: _Who Says You Can't Go Home_

Nick pulled off Interstate 10 at the 103A exit. He drove into Lafayette on the Evangeline Thruway. He drove around the city, searching for something that would make him want to stop. He ended up in front of Jamie's old house. Mr. O'Malley was watering his lawn. Nick stopped and got out the car. Mr. O'Malley put the hose down and stared at Nick.

"Hi, Mr. O'Malley," said Nick.

"Whatever you're selling, I am not buying," he yelled.

"It's me, Nicholas." Mr. O'Malley squinted as he stared at Nick.

"Son-of-a-gun, it is you." Nick approached him as he held out his hand. Mr. O'Malley lifted up the hose and started spraying Nick.

"I told you to stay away from here, you little bastard." He never forgot how Nick upset his daughter.

Nick ran back to the car. He was dripping wet as he drove away. He drove in front of his old home, but it was just an empty lot. The neighborhood had been re-zoned and the house was cleared to make room for a Wal-Mart parking lot. He passed in front of his old high school. It still looked the same. He got flashbacks of all the great times he had there. As he made way to the Downtown area, he looked up and saw a billboard. There was a huge picture of Alvin. The four-inch Afro was gone but he was still recognizable. He was now an insurance salesman, with his own agency. Nick thought, drummer – insurance agent. I rest my case. Arriving downtown, he noticed cars parked everywhere, which was unusual for a Saturday in Lafayette. Nick parked the car and walked around.

"What's going on?" Nick asked a passerby.

"You enjoying the festival?" asked the drunken reveler.

"What festival is it?"

"Festival International," said the young man, as he stumbled away from Nick. Festivals were plentiful in south Louisiana, but this was one Nick couldn't remember. He walked along Jefferson Street, which looked completely different. He saw a crowd dancing in front of a stage. On stage was a band from Africa. They were playing steel drums, congas, and other percussion. This wasn't the typical French music Nick was used to hearing at festivals. In the middle of the crowd, Nick noticed a tall, bald-headed figure jumping up and down. He didn't recognize the man, but he knew the jump. He went up and tapped Alvin on the shoulder.

"Is that you, Alvin?" asked Nick.

Alvin froze in amazement. "Son – of –a – bitch. Nick?" asked Alvin. "Yeah, it's me."

"How in the hell are you, man?" He grabbed Nick and gave him a huge hug.

"Not bad," said Nick, trying hard to breathe.

"Man, I haven't seen you since your Grandma's funeral. Where you been, man?" He let go of the hug.

"If you have a couple of days, I could probably tell you," said Nick, while catching his breath.

"Man, it is so great to see you. What brings you here after all this time?"

"You probably think this is crazy, but I'm here to find answers."

"What's the question?"

"It'll take me hours to explain, Alvin. Hey, I saw the billboard. You're selling insurance?"

"Hey, gotta make a living somehow. I got a wife and five kids."

"Five? No wonder you lost all your hair. Who did you marry? Anyone I know?"

"Matter of fact, you do know her." Alvin turned to call his wife. "Hey, Angelle, come check out who the wind just blew in."

"Nick? Is that you?" asked the still beautiful Angelle. The last time he saw her, she was drunk outside of Alvin's house. It wasn't a great moment to remember.

"You're still gorgeous," said Nick. He was cautious as he gave her a hug.

"Thanks," she said. "Where have you been all these years, and why are you soaking wet?"

"Obviously, catching psychos causes people to work up a sweat," said Alvin. "We saw on the news that you helped catch Alphonse LeBlanc in Chicago a few days ago."

"Wow, that made the news over here? That was kind of wild," said Nick.

"Nobody in town knew what happened to that poor bastard," said Alvin. "We never saw him after that gig for his daughter's wedding. The mayor went berserk, resigned, and left town."

"Yeah, his daughter's wedding – the job you took Jamie to," said Angelle. "Whatever happened to her?"

"Actually, I just talked to her a few days ago. She's part of the reason I'm here."

"So, she did turn out to be a slut, right?" asked Angelle.

"Hey, wait a second, sugar," said Alvin. "Don't tell me you're still mad at him for dumping you way back then."

"Hold on," said Nick. "I didn't dump you, Angelle. I just started seeing Jamie exclusively."

"I still think she was a slut," said Angelle.

"That's far from the truth. It turned out she was really a..." Nick stopped before he blurted it out. He was still embarrassed about the whole ordeal.

"A what?" asked Angelle.

"A damn nice piece of ass?" asked Alvin. Angelle slapped him across the face. "I'm sorry, baby. That kind of slipped out," he said.

"You haven't talked like that since high school," said Angelle. "You see that? Jamie is still causing me pain after all these years." She started crying and ran away.

"Aren't you going to go after her?" asked Nick.

"Don't worry about it. She always gets emotional when she's pregnant."

"Again?"

"Yeah, number six."

"You don't know when to quit, do you?"

"Well, we have five boys and I wanted to try for a girl one last time."

"I didn't mean to cause any problems."

"Hey, no problem, man," said Alvin. "She's been mad at me all day anyway. We got into an argument last night over names. We were discussing what to call the baby if it happens to be a girl. I mentioned the name Jamie and she went ballistic. I really love my wife but she tends to get a little crazy sometimes."

"Yeah, that name seems to bring out the worst in people," said Nick. "Hey you want to grab a bite to eat?"

"Sure, man," said Alvin. They purchased gumbo from one of the festival booths. Nick gave him the condensed version about why he was there.

"So you see, Alvin, I have a lot of questions," said Nick.

"That's quite a story," said Alvin. "And to think that all these years I've been having fantasies about Jamie."

"You've been having fantasies about her and you're selling insurance? Man, you're having almost as tough a life as me."

"No way, Nick. I'm really happy. I have a great family and business. Things are just about perfect. You don't know what you're missing by not having a family. You know – the love of a woman and kids who adore the ground you walk on. There's nothing in the world that can match it."

"If everything is so perfect, why were you still having fantasies about Jamie?"

"Hey, I'm only human, man," laughed Alvin. "I still think she was the finest woman you ever had." He felt a hand slap him in the back of the head after saying that.

"I heard that," said Angelle, who had just walked up.

"But baby – I meant she was the finest woman he ever had besides you. You didn't let me finish."

"Go to hell," she screamed and walked away.

"I think I better go after her this time," said Alvin. "Here's my card. Give me a call." He handed Nick his card as he ran after Angelle. "Baby, come back here. There's nobody in the world nearly as beautiful as you."

Nick chuckled then looked at the card. The grease from the gumbo on Alvin's hand had smeared the card a bit. It read Alvin L. Williams Insurance. The address on the card should have read St. Antoine Street but instead the words appeared to read - Satan Antonio Sees U.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR: _Sixteen Good Reasons_

Benny and Julie were enjoying the riverboat cruise they had missed the night before. Gina was dragging the reluctant and exhausted Harold around the French Quarter. Elderberry was sitting on the couch in the Hilton lobby, waiting for Harold and Gina to return. Debbie was at the wedding, having a horrible time. Andie was home trying to find someone to talk to. The calls she made to Harold, Debbie, Benny and Tony were all received by answering machines. Even the call she made much later to Nick had the same result.

Peter was at the hospital, trying to convince Carlos that even though Frank was next on the list, a donor needed to be found first.

Meanwhile, back at the crash site in Africa, Dave Peltier decided to go back to New Lake City to finish the job he started. He didn't trust Peter Grimes to do his work.

Jamie was sitting in her apartment, watching movies on TV.

Tony was working with the Missing Persons Department, trying to find Debbie. He went to the 7-Eleven where he worked to finish some inventory paperwork that was behind schedule. He heard a voice coming from the side of the building.

"Hey, Italian boy," said the voice.

"Who said that?" asked the startled Tony.

"Over here, it's me." Tony walked to the side of the building where the voice was coming from and saw the old man.

"Oh, it is you, Joseph," said Tony. "You frightened me."

"Sorry, my boy. I didn't mean to do that. You looking for something?"

"As a matter of fact, I am. I seem to have lost my Deborah."

"Lots of things have been getting lost lately. Three lives were just lost in a plane crash. Do you know why?"

"Because the plane crashed?" asked a confused Tony.

"Well, yeah. But do you know why they were on that plane to begin with?"

"No. I do not know. I have been trying to find Deborah all day. I have not been keeping up with the news."

"That's too bad, my boy. It's getting real interesting. Keep an eye out for your girl's boss. He's up to something."

"Do you mean the Harold person?"

"Well, him too, but I mean her big boss – that Peter Grimes character. Why don't you send the police in his direction? He knows what's going on."

"Does he have something to do with Deborah's disappearance?"

"I'm just saying he knows what's going on. Bring the police to him."

"Why are you telling me this information?"

"Two reasons. First, I want to see that bastard pay for what he's done, and second – I really could use a few bucks for some more wine."

Tony reached in his pocket and gave the old man a twenty. "What has he done?" asked Tony.

After grabbing the twenty, the old man said, "He's trying to make me pay for something I did thirty-five years ago."

"Why would he be making you pay for something that happened that long ago?"

"Well, it's like this," said the man. "I wasn't always like this. It started many years ago. I was a struggling musician. After I lost my girl, my heart wasn't into the music business. I worked my way through law school by playing in clubs. It took a lot of years of struggling but I finally made it. I became a successful lawyer. I wanted to start my own law firm, but didn't have the finances. I met this young, upstart attorney named Peter Grimes. He was a great kid. He graduated from Harvard, was making a great name for himself, and had a lot of money from an inheritance. We started a firm together fifteen years ago and it became the most prestigious firm in the city."

"But, that would mean, you are..."

"William Joseph Wainwright," said the man.

Tony was amazed. "But you are a homeless alcoholic. How can you be that way?"

"Its all part of Peter's great plan. You see \- Peter has plans of controlling this entire city. He lost sight of what our business was supposed to be. All he wants is control. He got Carlos Verona involved in deals to help his cause. I didn't want the firm to be involved with that man in any way. Peter knew of my previous addiction to the bottle and somehow got me back on it. He manipulated my life to make it look like I moved to Africa for a yearlong safari. Meanwhile, he and Carlos started a partnership, using the firm as a cover."

"Why did not you go to the police?"

"They got me good, Tony. Every few days, one of their boys come around and gives me some kind of roofie. It's always a cop. Most of the cops in this town work for Carlos. I'm always too drunk to fight it off. They got my house, my cars and anything that made me part of society. It seems that nobody believes the ranting of an old, homeless drunk."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"It looks like their master plan is falling apart. It's time I expose that bastard."

"But you did not tell me why you are paying for something that happened thirty-five years ago."

"That was Carlos' idea. He's been upset all these years because I stole his girlfriend away from him. He's all hell-bent on making me suffer."

"So, Carlos is behind the plane crash?"

"He might be behind it, but he didn't cause it. He can't kill anybody. He's the worst mob boss I've ever seen. That's why he got involved with Peter. Peter doesn't have much of a conscience. He's the one who has people going around doing Carlos's dirty work."

"Have you ever tried to tell this to anybody before?"

"I tried to tell that homicide detective a few days ago. It seems like he's the first cop I've seen that I could trust. He was right here, watching one of Peter's men. I told him to keep an eye on that guy and he would be led to the murderer."

"What murderer?"

"The one who killed that rock and roll drummer about a week ago. I don't think that detective took me seriously, though."

"You know who killed this Zipper Down?"

"I have a good idea."

"That is an amazing story," said Tony. "We must do something to help you win your life back."

"I'd like that, Tony," said Wainwright.

"How can you help?" "I have made friends in the police department," said Tony, with a smile.

Elderberry was sitting on the couch, trying to make sense of the situation. Why did Peltier leave New Orleans? What is his lawyer friend doing here and why is her friend here with that little bitch while trying to avoid the lawyer?

Peter and Carlos were arguing at the hospital.

"What kind of sick game are you playing, Grimes? I brought my precious boy over here, expecting a liver transplant, and now you tell me I gotta wait?"

"I'm sorry, sir. These things take time."

"Look at this boy. He ain't got much time left. You do whatever you gotta do and do it now. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," said the dejected Peter. He watched Carlos walk away and started thinking, Hmm, Carlos would make the perfect donor.

Jamie picked up her phone as it rang. "Hello, this is O'Malley – Oh, hi Daddy – No, everything's fine – You saw Nick? - As a matter of fact, he's working for me now – oh, no, not in that way. He works for a business I'm taking care of now – I know, Daddy. I'll be careful. I love you. Tell Mom the same." She smiled as she hung up the phone. There's no way Elderberry will find Nick in Lafayette.

Gerome got up from the couch as he noticed Gina and Harold coming back into the hotel lobby.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry from the New Lake City Homicide Department. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."

"Well, we do mind," said Gina. "We just came back here to change. Harold is taking me to Commander's Palace for supper. Come on, baby, don't pay attention to pretty boy over here."

"Excuse me, miss. Did you just hear who I said I was?"

"Of course. I'm not deaf, you idiot."

Harold was breaking out in a sweat as he saw Gerome turning red with anger.

"Listen here, you little bitch..."

"Hey, stop right there," said Gina, as she turned to Harold. "Sweetheart, are you going to let this mean man talk to me like this?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," said Gerome. "Do you have anything to say in this little bitch's defense?"

"We have nothing to say," said Harold. He grabbed Gina and walked away. Elderberry followed them.

"You have something to hide, Rogers?"

Harold stopped, turned around, and said, "Look, I don't know why you're all the way down here in New Orleans asking us questions. You're way out of your jurisdiction. Neither this young lady, nor I have anything to discuss with you. Good day."

"You don't want to tell me why Pel-tire just left a few hours ago, why your lawyer friend was also here and left, why one of Apocalypse's weenie boys is here with that skanky BreastMaster whore, and why you're here with a sixteen-year-old little slut?"

"You asshole," hollered Gina. "I'm going to tell my uncle to have you thrown off the force."

"And just who is your uncle?" asked Gerome.

"Don't tell him," begged Harold.

"Carlos Verona," said Gina. "He'll have Chief Bushman turn in your badge in a second."

Gerome smiled. "So, Rogers. You're here with the sixteen-year-old niece of the biggest crime boss New Lake has ever seen."

"He's not a crime boss," said Harold. "He's a respected businessman – and she isn't sixteen, she's, um, twenty-one."

"If you say so," said the unconvinced Gerome. "Did he have something to do with Zipper Down's murder?"

"He wasn't murdered," said Harold. "It was an accident. That's what the coroner's report indicated."

"And what are you doing reading the coroner's report?" asked Gerome.

"Why don't you leave us alone, dick wad?" said Gina.

"Oh, what a clever name to call an officer of the law," said Gerome.

"You're just jealous because the Cramping Violets are going to make it big and you'll be stuck being a small-time detective. Who cares that Zipper Down was murdered? He wasn't a good drummer, anyway."

"Shut up," cried Harold.

"Hey, don't you tell me to shut up. Nobody tells me to shut up," Gina yelled at Harold.

"Yeah, let the little slut talk," said Gerome.

"Quit calling her a little slut," said Harold. "We're finished talking to you." He grabbed Gina again and went to their room.

"I'll be talking to you soon," said Elderberry. He decided to wait for Benny and Julie. There was one more question he needed to ask. A while later, Harold came out the elevator without Gina and approached Elderberry.

"So you decided to talk?" asked Gerome.

"I just have one question. When you said Pel-tire was here, did you mean to say Pel-tee-ay?"

"Yes. I don't like to say his name that way. I don't like when people try to prove me incompetent. "

"Thank you, sir. I'll be more than happy to talk to you when we get back to New Lake City. You'll have our full cooperation." Harold assumed Elderberry was talking about Dave Peltier.

"That's more like it," said Gerome. Harold hurried to his room and called Peter. The answer machine picked up before anyone else.

"Grimes, this is Harold. Pick up the damn phone. Dave Peltier was just here in New Orleans." Nobody picked up the phone.

"It looks like your boss isn't home," said Gina. "Why don't you relax and take your clothes off?" Harold turned around and saw a naked young vixen. It may have been the stress and fatigue, but in that instance - consequences were the furthest thing from his mind.

At the wedding reception in Miami, Marlena sensed Debbie wasn't enjoying herself. She ran into an old boyfriend, who was with one of his friends, then introduced them to Debbie.

"Debbie, I want you to meet an old friend of mine. This is Alex," said Marlena.

Debbie put on her best fake smile. "Pleased to meet you, Alex," she said.

She looked over the shoulder of Alex and saw a handsome man with a delighted grin. He was bobbing his head to the loud salsa music the band was playing. She knew this was a setup.

"Likewise," said Alex.

"I'm glad you could make it down for the wedding. Hey, I want you to meet my friend..."

"Hold on a second," interrupted Debbie. She went to Alex's friend and asked, "Is your name Tony?"

The man looked at her in surprise and replied, "Why yes it is. Have we met before?"

"Yes, we have," said Debbie. "We have met in bars. We have met in coffee shops. We have met in parks, schools, places of business, and blind dates. And you know what? Every time we meet - it turns out the same." Her rage was building to a boil. "You and your kind are all assholes. You pretend to love until it's reciprocated, then you go on to the next one. Yes, Tony we have met – and you can go straight back to the hell you came from."

Marlena grabbed Debbie and dragged her aside. Miami Tony ran the other way.

"Sweetie, I don't think you're well," said Marlena.

"Obviously," said Debbie, as the tears started to flow down her pink cheeks. "I think we need to go home."

"Well, you see," said Marlena, "Alex and I kind of hit it off, again. I think I'm going to stay here a while. I was hoping you and his friend would get together - if you know what I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean," said Debbie. "No thanks. You know he'll just use you then toss you aside when he's done."

"What makes you think I'm not going to do that to him?" asked Marlena.

"I'm sorry, Marlena. I can't handle these games. I need more than that. I'm going home."

Debbie called a cab, got her bags from the hotel, and then went to the airport to catch an early flight home.

An unexpected thunderstorm hit New Lake City. The roads were slick and inattentive drivers were causing traffic congestion at every turn. Peter's drive home from the hospital was nerve-racking. All he could think of was getting a nice tall glass of bourbon and watching The Pelican Brief, which he just picked up at a local Blockbuster Video store. He actually looked forward to spending some time at home with his wife. Movie night was a great escape for him.

When he reached home, a cute young lady dressed in a Ramone's Mobile Spa uniform was just leaving. Francine greeted Peter, dressed in a brand new modest cocktail dress. A huge smile was on the face that just received two hours worth of an in-home facial along with the dress. That's when he realized he forgot about the plan for the evening. Ursula prearranged it the week before, but wasn't there today to remind him. She arranged the facial and dress delivery, then made dinner reservations at Rollins Tower. She knew Peter was neglecting Francine and always made sure to throw date nights into his schedule.

As they rode along the freeway in the downpour, Francine's smile gave way to concern.

"Is everything okay?" she asked. "You seem a little distracted."

"Yes, everything is fine. Why do you ask?"

"You haven't said a word since you picked me up."

"I'm sorry, honey," he said. "I guess everything at work is getting to me right now. This extra work for Carlos Verona is stressing me out a bit."

"I thought it might be something else. I've never seen you this stressed before."

"No, I assure you, its just Verona."

"I thought it might have something to do with a Dave Peltier."

"Excuse me," Peter said in surprise. He had never mentioned that name to her before. "What made you say that man's name?"

"Well, right before you picked me up, I heard the answering machine take a message from Harold Rogers. He said something about a Dave Peltier being in New Orleans."

"What?" yelled Peter, as his eyes glued to Francine. "There's no way. I just talked to Peltier a couple of hours ago and he was still in Africa."

"Sweetheart, I can tell you're upset but please keep your eyes on the road," said Francine. Peter looked back just in time to see the back end of an eighteen-wheeler, carrying a load of bricks stopped in his lane. He slammed the brakes as the Mercedes crashed into the trailer.

Elderberry waited patiently for Julie and Benny. When they walked in, he ambushed them.

"Before you two get all huffy, I just need to ask one quick question."

Julie gave him a look that could kill. "This better not have anything to do with Zipper Down." She then mouthed the name Gary Bell to him.

"All I need to know is what part of this wretched state is Nick Pel-tire from." Benny was squirming. Julie looked at him and noticed his nervous status.

"We'll talk later like we discussed. Now, leave us alone," said the agitated Julie. Elderberry discretely followed them at a distance to get more info when he heard Benny ask Julie... "Why would he want to know where Nick was from? There's no way he could find clues to Zipper Down's murder in Lafayette." Gerome stepped to the side behind a marble column and smiled. I think a quick trip to Lafayette will put the missing piece of this puzzle in its place, he thought to himself.

Tony led Wainwright into the precinct house and walked up to Officer Gillis.

"Velma Gillis, I would like you to meet a friend of mine," said Tony. "He has a story I think you would love to hear."

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE: _Bless Me Father_

Nick walked away from the crowd and took a good look at his surroundings. Jefferson Street had just gone through a major transformation. It wasn't run down like he remembered. It had an eclectic, yet homey look. As he made his way through the crowd, he wandered off towards St. John Street. There he saw the St. John Oak, next to St. John Cathedral. He always marveled at the sight of this tree. It looked just like he remembered. A few people were strolling into the church, preparing for the Saturday evening mass. Nick inched towards the front door and slowly walked in. He noticed a nun kneeling in a pew, an older lady lighting a candle near the statue of the Virgin Mary, and a young man walking into the confessional. Nick sat in one of the pews and was reminded of the days when his Grandma took him to church every Sunday. He never got much from the mass itself, but he did it to please Maw-Maw. She was so proud of her Tee Nick. For the first time in months, he felt completely safe from Satan.

After the young man came out the confessional, Nick felt the sudden desire to go in himself. He never agreed with the idea of having to tell a human his sins to be forgiven by God, but always went along with the concept regardless. He opened the curtain and saw the covered window facing the center of the three cubical confessionals. He knelt on the padded knee rest and jumped when he heard the door over the window slide open. The opaque material hid the figure on the other side, but he could make out some form of silhouette.

"Yes, go on," was the voice Nick heard coming through the window. It had been a couple of decades since he'd been through the agony of a confessional, but he still recalled the drill.

"Uh, bless me father, for I have sinned," said the embarrassed Nick.

"And how long has it been since your last confession, my child?" asked the priest.

Nick started counting on his fingers. "Let's see, I would say – about twenty years."

"Nick? Is that you?" asked the priest.

Nick was startled. "What?"

"It's me, Father Thibodeaux."

"Wow. I can't believe it. How did you know it was me?"

"You are one individual that would be hard to forget, my son. Would you like to continue with your confession?"

"But you know who I am. I've never gone to confession where the priest knew who I was."

"I'll let you in on a little secret, Nick. I always knew when it was you. You always had such interesting sins."

"Thanks – I think," said Nick, not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed.

"So, go on," prompted Father Thibodeaux.

"Well, for one, I haven't been to church since Maw-Maw's funeral. I've taken the Lord's name in vein a shit-load of times. I've had lots of sex with women I hardly know – I guess that's a sin, right?"

"Yes, Nick. Fornication is a sin."

"Okay, in that case, I've sinned a hell of a lot."

"Are there any more?"

"There may have been a slight chance that maybe, and I mean maybe, one or two were possibly married."

"Okay, we have adultery along with fornication. You're doing well."

"Oh, yeah – last Saturday night, I slept with my best friend's girlfriend."

"Now we have betrayal. You seem to be on a roll."

"I guess that's about it." In Nick's twisted mind, it didn't sound as bad as he thought.

"Are you sorry for your sins?"

"Well, I feel kind of guilty about the last one, but I really don't remember doing the actual act. Actually, I don't remember any of the sex I've had in the last entire year. Does that still count?"

"Yes, Nick, I'm afraid it does. Lack of memory doesn't excuse the act."

"Okay, then I guess I'm sorry about that."

"What about the others?"

"Oh, come on, Father. I've been away from this game a long time. I can't feel bad about what I've done if I don't remember the rules."

"Okay, Nick," said the priest, who was quietly chuckling under his smile. "I want you to say twenty Our Fathers and thirty Hail Marys for your penance. After that, I want you stay for my mass then meet me in the rectory for a beer afterwards. Go in peace."

"Thanks, Father," said Nick. The window closed and Nick walked out to the nearest pew to begin his praying. He saw Father Thibodeaux come out of the confessional. He give Nick a wink as he went to the door in back of the altar. A few more people strolled in before the mass began. Father Thibodeaux started the service and Nick went through the still familiar routine of the Catholic aerobics. It's like riding a bike, he thought. After the gospel, Father Thibodeaux delivered his sermon.

"Good evening, everyone," he announced. "I'm Father Thibodeaux. Father Broussard is out enjoying the festival, so I'm doing him a little favor by saying Mass for him. Many of you may remember me from my earlier days in this parish. Well, if you do, you may also remember me for being a little long winded. Don't fret. I'm going to keep it short, since I know by the small turnout; many of you would like to go back to the festival. I had a planned sermon to perform, but I decided at the last moment to change it. I want to talk to all of you about the difference between good and evil. I've been semi-retired for about five years. I love this area, so I just kind of take the place of other priests to give them a break. It also helps me keep in touch with the people. Up until a few moments ago, I thought I was doing a good job of that. I talked to a lost soul who I had the pleasure of baptizing many years ago. He had the misfortune of not having a mother or father in his life, but had the great blessing of having a wonderful grandmother to raise him. He was pointed in the right direction, but somehow lost his way. He's been struggling to find the difference since losing the woman who raised him. It would be easy to sit back and preach to him the difference between good and evil, but it would be just that – preaching. Instead, all of you should take a moment and look at your own lives. What do you think is evil? Is it the same thing that the person sitting next to you thinks it is? Probably not. I'm just a human being. I could tell you the difference, but since times have changed, I might be wrong where you are concerned. I'm an old man. I was raised in a time where values were meant to be honored, not exploited. This soul I was mentioning earlier is struggling to know the difference right now. I'm not going to tell him what's right or wrong. I'm only going to steer him in the right direction. Is it the right direction as far as he's concerned? I don't know. I can only hope. Before you go judging people and forcing your beliefs on them, understand the fact that everybody is different. Everyone has different circumstances bring them to the points of their lives where they now are. I heard a song on the radio a few days ago. A gentleman named Elvis Costello sang it. In the song, he sang What's So Funny About Peace, Love, and Understanding? First of all, most of you are probably wondering what I'm doing listening to a radio station playing Elvis Costello. Well, I may be old, but I like to keep up with what's going on in the real world. Peace, love, and understanding should go hand in hand. I know that Elvis Costello isn't God. He isn't even Elvis Presley, which, by the way, is considered a religion in some parts of this country. He's just a man with a concern. The song had a pretty good beat, too. That's why I'm going on a limb by saying this - I don't think this religion is keeping up with the times. Father Broussard will most likely not let me fill in for him anymore after a statement like this – but I don't care. I'm old. I don't have to worry about what others think about me anymore. That's why I can feel good about saying this – do what you feel is the right thing. If you believe in God, you're on the right track. Don't worry about committing a sin just because you missed a mass so you could attend a festival. Make it up some other way. Go out your way and do something nice for somebody. I'm sure God would rather see you do that than spend an hour of your life being miserable in a place you really don't want to be. Life has many simple pleasures. If you have the fortune of experiencing them, share them with others who don't have that same fortune. Is this the right thing to be preaching during a Catholic Mass? Probably not. Just do what you think is right. Yes, there are certain rules you need to follow, but I won't get into that. Only you yourself can know if they apply to you or not. Do what you feel is right in your heart. As for the lost soul I mentioned earlier, he's on the right track. All he needs is a point in the right direction – much like a lot of us do. Let us pray."

As the somewhat shocked congregation followed along with the rest of the Mass, Nick was smiling. For the first time in his life, he was enjoying a Mass. He followed the line for Communion. When he reached Father Thibodeaux, he noticed the priest dipping the Communion wafer into a grail filled with wine.

"The body and blood of Christ," said the priest.

"Cool," said the smiling Nick.

"The proper response is amen," said Father Thibodeaux.

Nick was a little embarrassed. "Sorry, father. Amen."

He walked back to his pew and silently prayed... God – I know I haven't quite been the man you'd hope I'd turn out to be, but I sure am trying. I know that I care a lot about certain people – I just don't know how to express my feelings anymore. If it was you who sent Jamie back to me, thanks. Now that I've had a few days to think about it, it does feel good to know that it wasn't my fault about Jamie dumping me. Tell Maw-Maw and my mother hello for me. Tell Zipper Down, if he's up there, that I'm sorry he had to die before seeing his band have a hit. And God – one more thing – could you possibly keep Satan away from me? He's really getting on my nerves. Thanks – I'm sorry, I mean – amen.

After the Mass ended, Father Thibodeaux left the altar through the back door instead of leading a processional to the church entrance. Nick went around back to the rectory and found Father Thibodeaux taking a couple of beers out of the refrigerator. He tossed one to Nick.

"Not your basic sermon, hey Nick?"

"What was that all about?" asked Nick, as he popped open the ice-cold brew.

"You know, Nick, I'm an old man. I've been a priest for over fifty-five years. I've been following the rules of the Catholic faith religiously. Now that I'm retired, well, semi- retired at least, I've had a chance to take time and re-evaluate things."

"What kind of results have you found?"

"Like I said in my sermon, I don't agree with all these rules set up by the Church. I've seen way too many people leave the faith because of them. I look at you and I see a lost soul, desperately trying to find answers. I know that God has a path for you to follow. I just don't think the Catholic Church is on that path for you."

"Are you trying to say that I'm not good enough to be a Catholic?" asked a surprised Nick.

"For God's sake, no. I'm just trying to make you realize that you are an individual who needs to find his own path. It's a complicated trip. This Church doesn't condone the path you've taken so far, but I know you, Nick. It's something you need to do."

"What's all this talk about a path?"

"It's obvious that you're trying to find some answers. You lost your grandmother when you needed her guidance the most. She told me on her deathbed about the Jamie girl you were seeing. She was scared that Jamie would ruin your life."

"She did. That's the main reason I've been living the way I do."

"Are you sure?" Father Augustus Thibodeaux was an insightful, intelligent man.

"Yeah, I'm positive."

"Why? Are you sure that it's not just some excuse to run away from what is scaring you?"

"What do you think is scaring me?"

Father Thibodeaux started laughing. "Oh, my son. You were always so easy to read. You're scared of Satan and afraid to commit to a relationship."

"How did you figure that out?"

"I can see the fear in you eyes. You look tired from running away from the Dark One."

"It's that obvious?"

"Oh, yes. You shouldn't worry about that. If you have a strong enough belief in God, that evil bastard can't lay a hand on you." Thibodeaux smiled as he took another sip of his tasty ice-cold brew.

"But I've been a terrible Catholic. I haven't been to church in almost seventeen years and I've committed all these sins." Nick followed Father Thibodeaux's lead, like any good Catholic would, and took another sip of his beer.

"You see, Nick, this religion has been making a habit out of making people feeling guilty all the time. I believe our God is a forgiving God. Follow your heart, Nick. Your Grandmother taught you right from wrong. You may have bent the rules a little – let me correct myself – a lot, but you're on the right track. Now – this woman that you're avoiding..."

"Hold on a second. What makes you think I'm avoiding a woman?"

"That's the other look you have in your eyes. It's the look of unrequited love."

Nick's smile turned to a more somber look. "Excuse my French, Father, but how in the hell do you know what unrequited love feels like?"

"Well, I've found that a man needs the love of a woman. I've been celibate for all these years and I have to admit – I've missed it."

"You've had a woman before?" Nick was shocked. He just assumed that priests never had sex, even before being ordained.

"Oh, yes. She was a beautiful woman. We were childhood sweethearts. We had done the forbidden deed when we were teenagers. She ran off to Chicago with the son of some rich oilman. I felt so guilty about it; I joined the church and became a priest."

Nick started to recall the story his grandmother told him. They were and far between but this is one he recalled vividly.

"Just out of curiosity, Father, what was the name of the guy she ran off with?"

"I don't remember his first name, but I know he was a Larquette."

"This might the biggest coincidence of all time, but my mother's maiden name was Larquette, according to Maw-Maw," Nick stated. "She was born in Chicago."

Father Thibodeaux stopped for a few seconds and started doing the math.

"I know this is personal, Father, but how long after you two did the horizontal bop did she run off with this guy?" asked Nick.

Father Thibodeaux was concentrating hard. "It was just a couple of months. She was afraid that her parents would find out about what we did."

"So you think that maybe this oil guy was just an excuse to get away from here?"

"Now that you mention it, that might have been the reason." Thibodeaux scratched his thick curly white hair.

"So a woman sent you down the life you've been leading," Nick said. "You are in the same boat as me."

"Isn't that ironic? It looks like both of us have had life-altering paths started by the rejection of a woman."

"Father, this is kind of hard to talk about, but do you think she really loved this guy?"

"I would hope so. It would be a shame if she married him for his money."

"What if his money was a solution for her?"

"What do you mean?" Thibodeaux was perplexed.

"Why was she so terrified of her parents?"

"Because we had committed the forbidden act of sex before marriage," Thibodeaux added.

"What if she was pregnant?" asked Nick.

"What?" Thibodeaux asked.

"Maybe she left town because she was pregnant with your child."

Father Thibodeaux was quiet for a few moments. That thought had never entered his mind. He slipped into deep thought for a few more moments.

"You know, that could be a possibility, Nick That would explain why she left town so fast with someone she hardly knew." He stood up from his chair and went behind the desk. He reached down and picked up an old satchel. He pulled out an old Bible and took out a sealed, yellowed envelope.

"What's that?" asked Nick.

"This, my boy, is a letter sent to me from Annabelle. I got it a year after she left. I kept it here in my personal Bible ever since. It's to remind me of the sin I committed with her."

"Was Annabelle the girl you had sex with?"

"Yes, she was the one." Thibodeaux smiled from the thought.

"What did she say in the letter?"

"I don't know. I never read it."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"No, Nick. The wonder and curiosity that was brought on with this letter has been my driving force to stay close to God. I promised myself never to read it."

"Come on. You have to read it now. It might explain a lot." Nick was beyond curious. Father Thibodeaux reluctantly handed the envelope to Nick with a quivering hand. He turned around and took a few steps away from Nick.

"You read it," he said.

Nick carefully opened the sealed envelope, making sure he didn't rip it. He gingerly pulled out the letter and started to read it.

"Dearest Augustus, Nick read. "Wow, is that your name?"

"Just read the darn letter."

Nick continued, "I know you must be terribly hurt from what I did to you. You have been my dearest friend for so many years. What we did together, while being sinful, was the most beautiful experience of my entire life. I do not regret it for one minute. My parents did not agree. I had to leave and promise them never to see you again. I found out yesterday that you have joined the seminary. I am so happy for you. You have taken the situation and turned it into a wonderful journey. I know you will make an excellent priest. Do not let the sin we took part of ruin your path. It's probably the reason you are joining the priesthood. I take some solace knowing that I am the reason you are on this wonderful journey. I now have a new life in Chicago now. I am married to a decent man and have a wonderful baby daughter. I would like to say that I love him, but you are one person I could never lie to. It was a marriage of convenience. He is wealthy and my parents adore him. He loves my Louise Anna, despite the fact that the girl is not his child. She is yours. I don't expect to hear any reply, my darling Augustus. I just want you to know. Please pray for us and do not let anything stop you from becoming the finest priest ever known. With deepest love and admiration, Annabelle."

Father Thibodeaux turned around and smiled at Nick.

"Son – of – a – bitch," exclaimed Nick, shocked and amazed. "You are my grandfather."

"Oh, my," said Father Thibodeaux. "I guess I should have read that letter when I received it. That's why your life has had a profound affect on me." He pondered even more. "Oh, my. That's why the funeral of your mother was the hardest one I ever officiated. She was my own daughter."

There were a few moments of silence as both men stared at the cold floor. Their heads lifted at the same time and without thinking – they both raised their beers up as if to give a toast to Louise Anna Larquette.

"So that's probably why I've been sent here. You have all the answers," said Nick.

"Oh, no, Nick. I don't have all the answers. I may have a few, but definitely not all," said Father Thibodeaux, as he wiped a tear away from his eye. "At the funeral, your grandmother told me that Louise's parents had passed away years before. I had no idea she was talking about Annabelle."

"I'm sure she had no clue, Father," said Nick.

"I guess you're right," said Augustus.

Marie Blanchard and Annabelle Melancon were best friends since they were five. They did everything together. They were always there for each other while growing up, for every little change in life that happened – they were there to help each other through. Their interest in boys happened at the same time. Unfortunately for Marie, Annabelle found a boyfriend first. His name was Augustus Thibodeaux. The two became inseparable. This meant little time for Marie to spend with Annabelle. As the intense jealousy fostered, Marie felt like she had to break them up. Annabelle confided in Marie about her and Augustus being in love and having sex. Marie used this to her advantage. She was the one who told Annabelle's parents about it and they, in turn, forced the breakup. As soon as they discovered she was pregnant, they sent her to Chicago to live with her Aunt and Uncle to avoid shame. After giving birth to Louis Anna, she eventually met and married Lawrence Larquette. He loved Annabelle and Louise. He gave them a comfortable life. Annabelle never found out that Marie was the one who told her parents about the encounter with Augustus. She sent Marie letters every so often to keep in touch. Marie ultimately met Nicholas Peltier, married, and had their two sons, David and Philip. It was the oddest twist of fate that Philip eventually met and married Louise. Just as Marie couldn't stand the thought of sharing Annabelle, she couldn't share Louise with Annabelle. She was the daughter she never had. Marie confessed to Annabelle about being the snitch that revealed the secret to her parents. Annabelle was so distraught; she vowed never to speak to Marie ever again. The news of the pregnancy was bittersweet for Annabelle. She would have loved to be there for her daughter, but didn't want to be anywhere near Marie. Louise promised to visit her with Phil and the new child as soon as they would be ready for the trip after the birth. Annabelle didn't find out Louise's death until right after the funeral. Marie called her with the news and said that both Louise and the child didn't make it through. She knew this would keep her from ever having to share Nick with anybody.

"Well, maybe you can answer this one – why is Satan following me?" Nick asked Augustus.

"He's not following, you. He's everywhere. If you let him, he can be in your heart, your soul..."

"Your bathroom?"

"Yes, if you let him, he could even be in your bathroom. However, if you have a strong belief in the power of God, then the dark one's powers are useless against you," Augustus said with conviction.

"I guess my beliefs haven't been too strong these past years."

"That's why he seems to be following you. That detective who is looking for you isn't Satan. He's just a man who is also being led down the wrong path."

"You know about him?"

"Oh, yes. I saw the news report. The local media has been having a field day with you, especially after finding Alphonse LeBlanc." He picked up the Saturday edition of The Daily Advertiser, the local Lafayette newspaper. Nick's high school picture was on the front page.

"Man, I hate that picture," said Nick.

"I guess it's the most recent one they could find. You've been gone for so long, nobody could figure out what happened to you."

"I've been living a low profile life."

"Well, keep up your search, Nick. I know you'll find what you're looking for."

"Everybody keeps telling me that. How can I find something if I don't even know what it is?"

Father Thibodeaux started laughing. "I guess you really are my grandson. You are filled with the same sense of confusion I've had all my life."

"Why have you been confused?"

"I've been thinking all these years that I got rejected by the woman I loved because I thought she didn't love me. Now I look at you and realize you are a direct result of my heartbreak. It makes me feel great."

"You feel better about being dumped now?"

"I sure do. Don't you?"

"Feel better about you being dumped? I guess so. I probably wouldn't be here if you weren't."

"No, I mean about you being dumped, as you say."

Nick started thinking. "You know, Father, it does feel like a weight has been taken off my back. I know now that it wasn't my fault and there was nothing I could have done differently. But if what happened to you is what we just figured out, then you have a grandson to show for it. What do I have?"

"Nick – you have what you're looking for."

"Damn it. What am I looking for?"

"You'll find it, my son. You'll find it. Now why don't you back out there and enjoy the festival? The answers will come to you."

"Thank you, Father Thibodeaux – I think."

"You're welcome, Nick. Come see me before you leave town." Nick held out his hand to shake Father Thibodeaux's. The priest grabbed his hand and gave him an enormous hug.

"Could you do me just one small favor, Nick?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"Could you call me...?"

"Grandpa? Sure." He gave Father Augustus another warmhearted hug.

"I just wanted to know what it would feel like. Thank you, Nick."

Nick smiled and walked out the door. He felt wholehearted inside. The feeling of being near an actual relative was something he hadn't experienced in a long time. Even though he wasn't sure what he was looking for, he felt a sense of self-confidence. He felt like evil wasn't lurking in the darkness, waiting to pounce on him at a moment's notice.

Meanwhile, Gerome Elderberry was on his way to Lafayette.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX: _Tragedy in New Lake_

Andie woke up Sunday morning feeling a little hung over. She drank an entire bottle of White Zinfandel, which she had meant to share with Harold. She wanted to call him, but resisted the urge. She didn't want to seem desperate. She poured herself a cup of coffee and walked outside to get the morning paper. What she saw in the headlines made her drop her cup. The hot coffee splattered all over her bare feet. After letting out a scream and a couple of mild obscenities, she ran back into her apartment to get dressed. The headline read – GRIMES WIFE DIES – PARTNER MISSING.

Peter woke up in the hospital to Carlos's smiling face. He was in severe pain and had no idea what was happening.

"What's going on?" asked Peter.

"Grimes, I'm sorry I doubted you," said Carlos. "When you said you would take care of everything, you really meant it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You went a little extreme, but, hey, who am I to argue? I like the results." Carlos was gloating.

"Will somebody please tell me what's going on here?"

A nurse rushed into the room and asked Carlos, "How long has he been awake?"

"Long enough for me to thank him," said Carlos. "My son is in surgery right now thanks to this man. I owe you, Grimes. I've never said that to anyone before. You rate in my book."

Peter tried to get up but saw both of his legs in splints. "Somebody – please tell me what's going on."

The nurse tried to comfort Peter as Carlos turned to leave the room.

"I'll check on you later, Grimes. I'm going to wait to see how Frank's operation turns out," said Carlos.

"Try to relax, Mr. Grimes," said the nurse. "You need to rest."

"Will you please tell me what happened?" asked Peter.

"You just stay calm. I'll have to get the doctor." She left the room. "What in the hell is going on?" screamed Peter.

The doctor entered the room and said, "Mr. Grimes, I'm Dr. John Foster, Chief of Surgery here at New Lake General."

"I know who you are. My firm handled your malpractice suit and saved your ass. Will you tell me what the hell is going on?"

Dr. Foster took a deep breath. "Mr. Grimes – last night you were involved in an accident."

Peter looked at his mangled body. "Okay, that would explain why I look like total crap."

"Do you remember anything about the accident?"

"No."

"You don't remember that your wife was with you in the car last night?"

"No, I don't."

"I'm afraid I have some good and bad news." Dr. Foster had the bedside manner of rodeo bull.

"Well, spit it out. What's the bad news?" Peter pleaded.

"Mr. Grimes – your wife died in the accident."

Peter turned pale. "Oh – my – God. This can't be true."

"I'm afraid it is, sir. However, there is some good to come from it."

"I can't believe she's dead. What good can come from this?"

"Francine was a registered organ donor. Her liver was used for a transplant operation, which is in progress right now. She may have died, but in turn is saving a life as we speak."

"Verona!" yelled Peter.

"Yes, the recipient is Frank Verona. How did you know?"

Peter burst into tears. He realized why Carlos was so happy to see him earlier.

Wainwright woke up on Tony's couch. Tony had put him up for the night and brought him a cup of coffee.

"Don't you have anything stronger?" asked Wainwright. This was the first day someone hadn't slipped a roofie in his drink. He knew what he had to do but all he wanted was a hard, stiff drink.

"Oh no, my friend," said Tony. "Today we start to sober you up. My friend Velma Gillis is meeting us this morning. We are going to find my Deborah and reclaim your life back." He went outside to get the Sunday paper and came running back in. "Oh, my, Joseph. You must read this headline."

Wainwright read the headline. The article stated she was an organ donor and a life was saved as a result. He knew whose life they were talking about.

"That son-of-a-bitch. This has got to be an all-time low – even for him," Wainwright said.

Jamie walked out of her apartment to get her paper. When she noticed the headline, she ran to the phone.

"Sir, I'm sorry to bother you this early on a Sunday morning, but I have some disturbing news," she said into the phone. "I just saw the headlines in this morning's New Lake Times. I think it's time we make our move."

Benny and Julie got their bags together and went to the limo, which was waiting to take them to the Lakefront Airport. They didn't bother to pick up the copy of USA Today, which was lying in front of the door. When they arrived, they saw the corporate jet of Verona Enterprises parked right next to their jet. Not thinking much of it, they settled in and got ready for the flight. There was a breakfast waiting for them, complete with bacon and eggs, toast, mimosas, fruit slices, and a Sunday edition of USA Today. On the front page, they saw the news – New Lake City Tragedy.

Harold put on his robe as he got out of bed. He turned and looked at the sight of the beautiful sixteen-year-old girl he just spent the night with. Things can't possibly get any worse than this, he thought. He opened the door to pick up the copy of USA Today. He wanted to see if there was any news of Wainwright's disappearance. The article he saw on the front page proved him wrong.

Debbie was in Miami, waiting for her flight to board. After spending the night in the airport lobby, she had to buy a first class ticket since the first flight out was booked solid and it was the only seat available. She settled into the luxurious seat and the flight attendant brought her a Bloody Mary. An older gentleman took his seat right next to her.

"Kind of early in the morning to be drinking, don't you think?" asked the man, politely.

"Look, mister. Don't get me started. I'm having a pretty rough time right now. It's none of your business if I drink this early or not."

"Then you won't mind if I have one with you," said the man.

"Hey, it's a free country. Be my guest," said Debbie.

"Are you on your way to New Lake City?"

"That's where this plane is going, right?"

"Hey, no need to get all riled up. I'm just trying to start a little conversation."

"Look, sir, I don't mean to be rude, but..."

"Hey, you're not being rude. I just thought you'd like someone to talk to on this long flight we have ahead. I'm not trying to hit on you or anything like that."

"I'm sorry. I really don't feel like talking," said Debbie.

"I can respect that, miss," said the man. He took the Sunday USA Today out of his briefcase and opened it up right to the stock market section. The front page was facing Debbie. She saw the same article that Harold, Benny, and Julie read.

"Oh, my God," said Debbie.

"What's wrong?" asked the man. "Did you see this article on the front page?"

He turned the paper over and saw the article. "Well, I'll be a son-of-a-bitch. I can't believe I missed that article." He quickly read it. "I didn't think Grimes had it in him." Knowing Grimes like he did, he figured Peter had the accident staged to have his wife killed. He knew how deviant minds operated.

"What are you talking about?" asked Debbie.

"Oh, nothing that concerns you, little lady."

"Yeah? Well, up until a couple of days ago, I worked for Wainwright and Grimes."

"You're kidding? I work for Grimes, myself. What a small world we live in."

Debbie held out her hand for the man to shake. "Sorry about earlier. My name's Debbie."

"Dave Peltier here," said the man.

"Damn nice to meet you." "Peltier? I wonder if you're related to Nick."

"Don't know any Nick, Debbie. As a matter of fact, I really don't know any relatives, except for my brother Phil. I haven't seen him in over forty years."

"You resemble Nick, in a way. You have his eyes."

"Who is this Nick character?"

"He's a dear friend of mine."

"Well, any friend of yours is surely a friend of mine."

"Tell, me, Dave, what do you make of all this about Wainwright being missing and Grimes' wife dying in an accident almost at the same time?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," said Dave.

"Try me," insisted Debbie.

"Well, you look honest enough." He looked around to see if anyone else was listening or not. "I know for a fact that Wainwright isn't dead."

"How could you know that?"

"Let's just say that I have connections. This Peter Grimes character isn't exactly the straight-laced attorney he make himself out to be, either."

"You're telling me. He can be a total sleezeball."

"Well, he's in way over his head now. What kind of work did you do for those bastards?"

"I was a secretary."

"You want your job back?"

"No way. I wouldn't work for that asshole again."

"What if he weren't there anymore?"

"But it's his firm. How would he not be there?"

Dave started chuckling. "Oh, it's only a matter of time."

Nick woke up on a sofa, staring at a miniature, lighter skin colored version of Alvin. His face was just inches from Nick's.

"He awake!" screamed the little boy, as his high-pitched voice rang in Nick's ears.

"Good morning, Nick," said Angelle. She walked into the living room, carrying a glass of orange juice.

"Where am I?"

"You're at our house. We found you wandering around aimlessly at the festival last night. You were plastered so Alvin and I took you home." As she came into focus, Nick realized how much Angelle had changed since high school. Her eyes had lost the exotic luster they once had and her body was stretched out from all the pregnancies – including the one she was now experiencing. She did still have the succulent lips which he remembered the joy of kissing.

"Thanks for putting me up," said Nick, as he drank the juice.

"No, problem," said Angelle. She sat next to Nick on the sofa. "Nick, how have you been?"

"Life has been pretty strange for me, Angelle."

"Yeah, Alvin filled me in on the Jamie story. That's one I didn't see coming."

"You can say that again," replied Nick.

"He's not kidding about that," said Alvin, who came strolling in, carrying the morning paper and a cup of coffee. "He really didn't see her coming." He threw the paper on Nick's lap. "Take a look at the story on the story on page two."

Nick looked at the paper. It was picked up from a puddle of water in the driveway – the paperboy wasn't that good. The pages were stuck together but he could still make out the article.

Nick read it aloud. "The New Lake City law firm of Wainwright and Grimes, one of the most prestigious firms in the country, took a tragic blow this weekend. The plane carrying William Joseph Wainwright crashed on the coast of Cameroon in Africa. No survivors were found, however the body of Wainwright has not yet been identified. Also, Saturday evening, the car driven by Peter Grimes was involved in a fatal crash resulting in the death of his wife, Francine Grimes. There are no details on the condition of Mr. Grimes. As a registered organ donor, Francine Grimes was able to save the life of a local citizen."

"Isn't that the place where Andie works?" asked Alvin.

"How do you know about Andie? I never mentioned her."

"That's all you talked about in your sleep last night," said Angelle.

"Yeah," said Alvin. "We plopped you on the sofa here and you kept mumbling stuff about Andie working at Wainwright and Grimes, Satan was following you, Grandpa, homo-homicide guy, and looking for answers."

"I said all that?"

"And that's just the stuff we could understand," said Angelle.

"Did I mention anything else about Andie?"

"You mumbled her name a lot, but we couldn't make much out, other than the fact about her working for that firm. I found it strange to see that article in the paper about them, especially since you mentioned Wainwright and Grimes in your sleep," said Alvin.

"Well, I don't know either one of those men. All I know is that I was sent on this so-called mission to find a replacement drummer for the Cramping Violets, and it's turning out to be something else all together."

"You know the Cramping Violets?" asked Terrance, Alvin and Angelle's oldest son, who just walked in.

"Yeah. You've heard of them?" asked Nick.

"Dude, they have the number one song in the country right now. Love Blender kicks ass."

"Hey, son,' said Alvin. "What did I tell you about using that kind of language?"

"Sorry, dad, but The Cramping Violets have a new drummer – the Pizza Guy. I saw them on MTV last night." He turned on the TV. "The week's countdown show should be on right now."

Nick saw the screen and was amazed to see a close-up of Pizza Guy. The video was already number six for the week. It was just released the day before. He was also shocked to see Julie Templeton in the video. One close-up shot showed her arm around Benny for a second. He had cast himself as an extra in the video.

"I can't believe this is all happening," said Nick. "I just saw that Pizza Guy last Tuesday. He was serving me coffee."

"So why are you looking for a replacement drummer, when they obviously found one?" asked Alvin.

"That's what I'd like to know," said Nick.

Meanwhile, Gerome Elderberry was at the Lafayette Hilton. He had stayed there overnight and was trying to find clues to where Nick might be. He studied a map of the city but couldn't figure out where to start looking. After observing several busses loading with what appeared to be tourists. He questioned a few of them and found out about the music festival going on. He knew this would have to be the place to find Nick. He hadn't bothered to read the morning paper.

Andie went to the hospital to find out what was going on. She expected to find Harold there with Peter, but he was nowhere to be found. Instead, she ran into Carlos.

"Miss Jenson, it's great to see you. Isn't it a beautiful day?"

Andie looked at him with disgust. "How can you say that? Mrs. Grimes was just killed, Mr. Wainwright is missing, and you think it's a beautiful day?"

"My son is going to be fine. It is a beautiful day."

"Isn't he waiting for a liver transplant?"

"He got one. He's in recovery as we speak."

"But I thought he had at least three people ahead of him – and that was just a few days ago."

"It looks like your boss has kept you in the dark, Miss Jenson. Frank is receiving Mrs. Grimes's liver right now. You may not like the man, but he sure got the job done."

Andie turned pale. She ran into Peter's room and started yelling, "What in the hell is going on?"

Peter was lying in bed, still in a state of disbelief. "Jenson, I guess you heard the news."

"My, God, Mr. Grimes. Did you arrange all this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you arrange the accident to have your wife killed just so Frank Verona could get a liver quicker?"

"Are you insane? Why would I do something like that?"

"Where's Harold?"

"Hey, I'm lying in bed with two crushed legs, my wife just died, and you want to know where Harold is?"

"He was supposed to be with you, finding out what happened to Mr. Wainwright."

Peter started screaming for a nurse, " Get this crazy bitch out of here."

"No, Peter. You are a manipulative bastard. I wouldn't put it past you to arrange this whole thing just to please your biggest client. What's in it for you?"

"Nurse."

"Why am I being assigned to cases involving liver dysfunction and your precious Carlos just happens to have a son who needed the operation?"

"NURSE!"

"Did you arrange to have Wainwright killed, too?"

"NURSE!"

"You are not going to get away with this, Mr. Grimes. I will get to the bottom of this." A nurse stormed into the room.

"Get this insane bitch out of here," screamed Peter.

"It's okay," said Andie to the nurse. "I'm leaving." She turned before walking out the door. "I'm going to find Harold and we're going to burn you – Mr. Grimes."

Just as Harold and Gina finished packing, Gina started feeling amorous again. She started unzipping Harold's pants.

"Not again," objected Harold. "We need to leave right now."

Gina slid her body around Harold's, touching every inch she could. She worked her way up to his ear and started sticking her tongue in it.

"No, not now," said Harold, as he started to breathe heavier. She moved her silky hand down his shirt and worked her way to his belt buckle. She skillfully undid the buckle and unbuttoned his pants in one fluid motion. "No – not – now," Harold half-heartedly rejected. She dropped to her knees and grabbed the waistband of his silk boxers with her teeth. She seductively slid them down, exposing the head that was doing all the thinking at the moment. She started sliding her tongue up and down.

"No – not – now, now, now," screamed Harold, as he leaned against the door. Gina stood up and melted her body against his.

"I'm sure we have time for one more, don't we, Walls?"

Harold threw her on the bed. All thoughts of Peter, Andie, and jail were temporarily gone.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN: _Satan's Girlfriend_

Officer Velma Gillis took Tony and Wainwright to New Lake General. She arranged to have Wainwright set up in a rapid detox program, while remaining anonymous. She didn't want anyone to know he was there. Tony managed to find Peter Grimes's room and sneaked in.

"You are Peter Grimes?" asked Tony.

Peter opened his swollen eyes and saw Tony. "Who the hell are you?"

Tony looked around to make sure nobody else was in the room. "I am your worst nightmare."

The drugs Peter was given made everything look blurry. He stared at Tony's distorted face and got scared.

"Are you...?"

"It does not matter who I am. You are a very bad man. Your partner is going to get well and expose you for the terrible person you are. That was also very cruel the way you had your wife killed."

"It wasn't planned. I didn't know something like that would happen. I don't even remember how it happened."

"You play with fire – you get burned," said Tony.

"Where is Deborah?"

"Who's Deborah?"

"She works for you."

"I have a lot of people who work for me. I can't recall any Deborah."

"So, this is how you are playing this game. I will not have any pity on you Peter Grimes. You have tried to destroy the life of a friend of mine, and you are keeping me from my little fettuccine. You will go to hell for this." He left the room, slamming the door behind him. Peter was left shaking in his bed. He buzzed the nurse, who came running in.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Grimes?" she asked.

"Who was that man who was just my room?"

"Sir, I was right next door at the nurses station and I didn't see anybody."

"You had to. He was a tall, dark-skinned, kind of evil looking man."

"I'm sorry sir. The painkillers you're on probably have some hallucinogenic effect on you. You'll be fine."

Peter started thinking, I think I just came face-to-face with Satan.

As the nurse walked out, Chief Bushman walked in. "How are you, Mr. Grimes?" he asked.

"What the hell do you think? My wife's dead, I have two mangled legs and Satan just visited me."

"I'm sorry about all that, sir," said the Chief. He thought, What does he mean Satan just visited him? He added, "I just wanted to give you my condolences, and let you know that Elderberry is still way off track. Everything's okay in that situation."

"It better be," grumbled Peter. "I don't think I could take anything else going wrong."

The door opened again and in walked Velma Gillis.

"What are you doing here, Officer Gillis?" asked Bushman.

"Would you mind if we step outside for a few seconds, Chief?" she asked.

"Excuse me, Mr. Grimes," he said, and then walked out the room with Gillis.

"I have just found the ultimate missing person," she gleefully said. She gave Bushman the entire story and let him know that nobody knew about Wainwright being in the hospital. Bushman congratulated Gillis on her good work and made her promise not to tell anyone else about Wainwright. He wanted to investigate the situation himself. He went back to Peter's room.

"Uh, Mr. Grimes, we have a slight problem," said Bushman.

"Wainwright is..."

Once again the door opened, and this time Jamie walked into the room. She had a bouquet of flowers and set them on the table next to the bed.

"I'm so sorry about the accident, Mr. Grimes," said Jamie. She looked at Bushman and said, "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met."

"I'm Chief Samuel Bushman, ma'am, head of New Lake City Police." He extended his hand and gave Jamie a shake.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Jamie O'Malley, head of Apocalypse Records."

"What are you doing here, O'Malley?" asked Peter.

"I just wanted to say how sorry I am for the awful accident. You must feel terrible."

"Look, lady. I know you don't mean a damn word of your phony sympathy play. You're here to gloat. I still haven't figured out what you're doing pretending to be the head of Apocalypse when you know goddamn well Carlos Verona owns it legally."

"Really?" asked Jamie. "Please, tell me more."

"I think Mr. Grimes needs his rest, Miss O'Malley," said Bushman.

"No, let her stay," directed Peter. "I want to know the real reason she's here."

"I already told you," said Jamie. "I just want to offer my condolences on behalf of myself and the record company."

"That's bullshit and you know it. I don't know what you're doing, but I will get to the bottom of this."

"So will I, Peter," said Jamie. "Take care and get well soon." She shook Bushman's hand as she left the room. "Pleasure to meet you, sir."

"The pleasure was all mine," said the smiling Bushman.

"Wipe that stupid grin off your face, Bushman," said Peter.

"Sorry, sir. She sure is one pretty lady."

"That bitch is up to something and I want you to find out what it is. She has no right to Apocalypse Records. We did everything legally. Verona Enterprises is the legal owner."

"You shouldn't be saying that too loud, sir. That's still supposed to remain confidential."

"Yeah, I know. These painkillers are making me blab away everything. I didn't love Francine as much as I used to, but I didn't want her to die. Carlos's son got her liver, so I guess I should be happy, shouldn't I?"

"If you say so, sir."

"What were you about to say about Wainwright before that red-headed monster interrupted you?"

Bushman stalled for a few seconds then blurted out, "Sir, Wainwright is here in the hospital."

"What?"

"Officer Gillis brought him here. He's in rapid detox."

"Does anybody know he's here?"

"Just Officer Gillis and the man who brought him to her."

"Well, you know what you have to do, Bushman."

"Yes, sir. I'm afraid I do."

At New Lake International, the 757 carrying Debbie and Dave Peltier landed. Dave convinced her to come to the hospital with him. They got into the elevator just as the one next to it opened, letting Tony out. They went to Grimes's room.

"Well, what do we have here?" asked Dave.

"Peltier? Is that you?" Everything was looking blurry to Peter.

"Yeah, it sure is," said Dave.

"What in the hell were you doing in New Orleans?"

"I wasn't in New Orleans."

"That's what my wife said right before we hit that truck." His memory was starting to come back.

"You're all drugged up from painkillers, Grimes. I wasn't there."

"Who is that with you?"

"You don't recognize me, Peter? I'm Deborah Bailey. I used to work for you."

"Deborah? You're Satan's lover," screamed Peter. "Get her out of here."

Debbie was confused but decided to seize the moment with her acting skills.

"Right. I am the lover of Satan. I am here to claim his prize." She was trying not to laugh.

"What do you mean?"

"I know that Wainwright is alive. He didn't die in that crash. He was never on that plane."

"You know he's here, too?" Debbie and Dave were both surprised.

"Yes, we know he's here. He's here to get revenge on your soul," said Debbie, using her best evil voice.

"How can he get my soul if he's in detox?" asked the frightened Peter.

"He really is here?" asked Dave.

"I thought you just said you knew that," said Peter.

Dave ran out the room, leaving Debbie alone with Peter.

"Why are you and Satan torturing me?"

"You are an evil man, Peter," said Debbie. "You have been doing things to hurt people."

"But I thought Satan liked those kind of things."

"Hey, listen. I'm Satan's lover. That asshole does what I say now. I don't like the way you made Mr. Wainwright suffer this past year just so you could screw him over."

"But that was all Carlos Verona's idea."

"Really?" She was wishing she had a tape recorder.

"Yeah. I just wanted control, but Carlos wanted to make him suffer for stealing his girlfriend."

"Oh, I see. But you were the one who set up my best friend with that pedophile Harold Rogers."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you the one who did the setting up?" Peter was also starting to remember Debbie.

"Hey, buddy, I don't like to be corrected."

"Sorry."

"You'd better be – and just where is this Harold guy?"

"He's in New Orleans with Verona's niece."

"Oh, I see – and how about my lover?"

"You mean Satan?"

Debbie was really enjoying playing with Peter. "Yes, the dark one himself. When was the last time you saw him?"

"I just saw him a couple of hours ago."

Debbie remembered Andie telling her about Nick's fear of Tony, thinking he was Satan.

"Tell me, Pete, did this image of Satan you saw speak with an Italian accent?" she asked.

"Yes – an eerie, demonic, dark-sounding voice that nearly made my ears bleed."

"Thank you, Pete. I'll put in a good word for you." She left the room.

Downstairs at the cafeteria, Tony was getting a bite to eat. He noticed Kat sitting alone at a table and went over to talk to her. She explained that her mother was in the hospital, recovering from minor surgery, and she was just staying with her for a few hours. Debbie walked in front of the cafeteria and saw them sitting together. She burst into tears and ran outside, passing right in front of Officer Gillis, who was coming in for a cup of coffee. Gillis walked up to Tony and Kat.

"I think I just found your missing person," she told Tony.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT: _All the Ducks in a Row_

Nick thanked Alvin and Angelle for their hospitality and left. He needed to get back to New Lake City and try to figure out what was going on. He'd found some answers in Lafayette but didn't feel like he found all of them. He had a few hours before his flight so he drove around town.

In the seventeen years he'd been away, Lafayette had changed quite a bit. He saw the Acadiana Mall where he remembered a swamp being. That whole area had grown from nothing to the retail hub of Southwest Louisiana. The chain stores made this part of Lafayette look like the dozens of cities he'd been to since working for Apocalypse. As he drove down Congress Street, he came across the Cajundome, a beautiful structure across from Cajun Field. He drove through the USL athletic complex and wondered what his life would have been like if he'd stayed in Lafayette and gone to college there, like he originally planned. He drove through the campus and saw that little had changed there.

He turned and found himself driving around Girard Park. The park was unusually quiet for such a beautiful Sunday afternoon in the spring. He figured that a lot of people were downtown at the music festival. He drove around to the south end of the park and saw the duck pond. It had been overhauled since the last time he saw it. The aesthetics were pleasing, but it had lost the vision of innocence he remembered. The tree where he had the last, heartbreaking encounter with Jamie was still standing. He saw two young lovers sitting underneath and it brought him back to that night. After parking the car, Nick strolled by the two lovers. The girl was throwing bread at the ducks, which were enjoying the food and attention. The boy was playing a guitar. He was playing an acoustic version of Love Blender. Nick remembered taking Jamie to that spot. It was the last night he'd ever spent with her. He strolled to a little snowball stand near the pond.

"I'll have a small root beer snowball," said Nick.

"That'll be one dollar, Nick" said the man in the stand.

"Do I know you from high school or something?" asked Nick, as he struggled with the somewhat familiar face.

"It's me – Bart," said the man.

"Oh, yeah, right. Good to see you, man," said Nick. "See ya later." As he walked away he thought, How do I know this guy? He walked around the entire pond and came across an older man throwing bread to the ducks. The thing that struck Nick the most was the way the man was throwing bread with his left hand, using an awkward motion. Nick approached him.

"Sure is a nice day," said Nick. The man looked up and saw Nick.

"I guess you could say that."

"Why aren't you downtown at the festival?" asked Nick.

"I don't have much interest in music anymore," said the man.

"Man, that's too bad," said Nick. "I love music."

"Well, hooray for you."

"You mind if I throw some?"

"Be my guest," said the man, handing a slice of bread to Nick. Nick tore a chunk off and threw it with his left hand using the same awkward motion the man had just used.

"You sure have a strange way of throwing bread," said the man.

"I notice you throw the same way," said Nick.

"My mother taught me to throw that way when I was a kid," said the man. Nick had a mysterious feeling about this.

"Are you from around here?" he asked.

"Sort of," said the man.

"I was born here, left, came back, and then left again. I haven't been back here in years."

"Where've you been?"

"All over. Anywhere to get away from this place."

"What brings you here now?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions for a stranger."

"Sorry about that. My name's Nick."

The man held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Nick."

Nick waited a few seconds for a reply. "And you are?"

"Confused about being here," said the man.

"So, why are you here?"

"It's kind of a long story. I don't know if you have that kind of time."

"I've got time," said the interested Nick.

"Well, it's kind of a sad story," said the man. "About thirty-five years ago, I was living here with my pregnant wife. I was selling insurance to make ends meet. I was a professional musician, so I didn't like too much the idea of selling insurance for a living. Her parents were well off but my stupid pride wouldn't allow me to let them help us. She was a beautiful woman – my God, she was absolutely gorgeous. We had to live with my mother since I didn't make enough to afford a place for ourselves. When it came time for Louise, that was my wife's name, to have the baby, something went wrong."

The man started to shed a few tears. Nick was stunned to hear these words. He couldn't believe whom he was talking to. As shocked as he was, he still needed to hear the rest of the story.

"What happened next?" Nick asked, with caution.

"She died while giving birth," said the man, while containing the sobbing.

"What did she have?"

"I don't know. It was some kind of complication that the doctors..."

"No, I mean, what was the gender of the baby?"

"I don't know that either. I think they might have told me, but everything is such a blur."

"Do you even know if the baby lived or died?" The man lowered his head in shame.

"No."

Nick wanted to lower the boom on this man but held back.

"Didn't you ever wonder what happened to that little boy?"

"I told you – I didn't remember if it was a boy or a girl."

"Right – you did. Let's say for the sake of argument it was a boy. Would you ever want to know what ever happened to that boy?"

"Maybe that's what I'm here to find out."

"After thirty-five years, you finally have the nerve to come back to find out what happened to your son?"

"Hey, don't get all preachy with me. I don't know why I'm here, but I'm sure it's not to argue with somebody I just met – and quit saying the word son. I told you, I don't remember if it was a boy or a girl."

"I'm sorry," said Nick. "I guess I'm a little passionate when it comes to that subject."

"What's your story?" asked the man.

"I'm here for the same reason. I'm trying to find some answers."

"Are you on the right track?"

"I thought I was. Now, I'm not so sure."

"It has to do with love I think," said the man.

"You think so?"

"Yeah. It was love that settled me down in the first place. It was the loss of love that started me on my path to destruction."

"So you think you've been destroyed?"

"Hell, just look at me. I haven't had a relationship in thirty-five years. I've been having sex with all kinds of different women. Not once have I even thought of staying with one of them. All I can think about is Louise. I drink all the time. I keep changing jobs. I don't stay in one city for more than six months at a time. I'm so miserable."

"And you think love is the answer?"

"It's got to be. I'm sure I wouldn't be in this predicament if I still had the love of that woman."

"So why can't you let yourself love one of those many woman you've been with after all these years?"

The man looked at Nick with cold stare and said, "Because of Satan."

"What?" asked Nick.

"The Dark One himself has put a spell on me, keeping me from ever loving another woman."

"How do you know?"

"I've heard him. He came to me at the weirdest place."

"Your bathroom?"

"Yeah. How in did you know?"

"Just a hunch – go ahead."

"I started drinking heavily after Louise died. I ran away and didn't care about anything. I remember one night I was sleeping in a YMCA somewhere. I drank an entire fifth of some cheap bourbon. I went to the bathroom to relieve myself when I heard this ghostly, demonic voice. He said he owned my eternal soul now, that I left my newborn child, and deserted my mother. He told me that I would never experience love again."

"Did he have an Italian accent?" asked Nick.

"I'm not sure. It was just so cold and dark sounding."

"So, do you believe it?"

"I don't have any reason not to. I haven't found love. I don't even remember what it feels like."

"I'm kind of in the same boat," said Nick.

"Are you in a relationship?"

"No. I was in love about seventeen years ago, got dumped, and haven't found love since."

"You drink a lot?"

"Yeah, I sure do."

"Did you ever talk to Satan?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Well, Nick. It looks like you and I have a lot in common."

"A lot more than you think," said Nick.

On the other side of the lake was a man with binoculars. He was hiding in some bushes while he got a look at Nick and the man. He reached inside his coat pocket, pulled out a large billfold containing dozens of pictures, and looked at the one given to him by Wainwright.

"Well touch me in the morning and walk away with a bar of soap. That's Pel-tire with a man that looks like this man in the picture," he said to himself. This was the photo given to him by Wainwright during their encounter at the 7-Eleven. The picture showed Phil, Louise and Wainwright sitting at a table in a Chicago club. Barry Washington shot it. Elderberry had been searching through the Downtown area, trying to find a parking place. The festival crowd was enormous so he kept circling the area for a spot. He ended up lost and found himself at Girard Park. He saw the boy playing the guitar and thought that maybe this was a part of the music festival. That's when he saw Nick, sitting next to the man. Elderberry took a long range listening device out of his pocket and directed it at Nick and the man.

"Would you know love if you ever found it again?" asked the man.

"I don't know. The last time it happened, I got screwed over."

"Well, you have time to find out. It's too late for me to find it but it's not too late for you."

"And I guess you're qualified to make that statement?" The man started crying. Nick put his hand on the man's shoulder to comfort him a little.

"I sure have made a mess of my life," cried the man.

"You sure have, not to mention the life of someone else," said Nick.

"I have a confession to make, Nick. I have regretted my decision to leave my child every damn day of my miserable life."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and you know what? If he was a boy, he'd be about your age right now."

Nick was at a loss for words. He tried to keep his composure to ask the next question.

"Tell me this - let's just say that I was the son you walked out on. What would you say to me right now?"

The man looked at Nick through tearful eyes.

"I'd get on my knees and beg for forgiveness and understanding."

Nick thought long and hard about what to tell this man.

"Well, I have something to say to you."

"What is it?" He stalled for bit then said, "You need to find him and tell him this yourself."

"I can't," cried the man.

"Why the hell not?"

"I'm too ashamed."

"Don't give me that excuse. If you really want to feel some sort of redemption for your major screw-up, go out and find that man and tell him for yourself." Nick wasn't about to let him off the hook that easy.

"For one thing, I don't know if it was a boy or girl, and second, I don't have the slightest idea where or how to start looking for this person."

"If you really want to find this person, I can help you."

"Really? How?"

"I can get you the service of the best detective New Lake City has ever seen."

"How do you know that person?"

"Because he's been following me for almost a week and he's right there across the lake, staring right at us."

"Oh, goddamn it to hell," said Elderberry. He took his headphones off.

"Here's my card," said Nick. He handed the man his business card.

"Call me if you want the help, Phil." Nick started to run after Elderberry.

"Hey, Nick. How did you know my name was Phil? I never told you," yelled the man, as he watched Nick run to the other side of the pond. He looked at the card and saw the name – _Nicholas Peltier_.

"Oh – my – God," said Phil.

Nick found Elderberry crawling out of the bushes.

"Why do you keep following me?" hollered Nick.

"What are you doing talking to that man?" asked Gerome.

"I asked you first."

"You were wanted for questioning for the murder of Zipper Down."

"I didn't kill Zipper Down."

"I know that."

"What?"

"Let me explain. I thought you did at first, but now I know someone else did."

"So why are you still following me?"

"Not so fast, Pel-tire. It's my turn. I answered your little question so now you're going to answer mine. What are you doing talking to that man?"

"I'm pretty sure he's my father," answered Nick.

"Oh, that would explain the resemblance."

"You saw a resemblance?" asked Nick.

"Well, it was hard to tell at first but after looking at the picture then you, I can tell."

"What picture?"

Elderberry took out the picture given to him by Wainwright during the encounter at the 7-Eleven.

"This is the man you were just talking to, isn't it?"

"Where did you get this?"

"Some homeless man in New Lake City gave it to me. He had a peculiar interest in you."

"I just saw this picture in Chicago." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the copy Barry made for him. "Why would some strange homeless man give you a picture of my father?"

"I think your father is the one who killed Zipper Down. This, by the way, makes me feel so good, since I was right about it being a Pel-tire. It was not quite the right one I was chasing, but at least you lead him to me."

"Are you trying to tell me my father is the one who killed Zipper Down?"

"I'm not trying, I am doing it."

"You're insane. I haven't seen that man – ever – before today. What would he be doing in New Lake City?"

"That's what I'd like to know."

They both looked across the pond and noticed that Phil had disappeared.

"What kind of scheme are you two pulling?" said Gerome. "You're trying to distract me while he gets away? I'll get you for aiding and abetting a criminal, Pel-tire."

He started running towards where Phil had been standing.

"That's it," yelled Nick, as he sneered at the empty spot Phil just created. "I can't take this crap anymore. Fast Phil just left me for the second and last time. It's time for me to get out of this town."

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE: _Bottom's Out_

Dave Peltier walked into Wainwright's room. Being the con man he was – he was able to talk to the right people to find it. A nurse was monitoring Wainwright's progress as he slept. He had been sweating from the detoxification process and was resting between his withdrawal attacks.

"Can I help you with something?" asked the nurse.

"Yes, I'm this man's, um, brother," said Dave.

"I just came to see how he was doing."

"You're not supposed to be in here. Officer Gillis said there were to be absolutely no visitors."

"It's okay," said Chief Bushman, as he walked into the room. "This man is with me."

Dave was surprised to see Bushman but knew they were working towards the same purpose.

"I don't know about all this," said the nurse. She picked up the phone to call the doctor.

Bushman grabbed the phone from her and blocked her view of Wainwright and Dave.

"Listen, miss," said Bushman. "I am the Chief of Police and this man is a suspect in a major investigation. I would appreciate if you wouldn't interfere with our work."

Dave took a needle out of his coat pocket and was about to inject one cc of arsenic into the IV that was flowing into Wainwright's veins. Wainwright opened his eyes at that moment.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing, you son-of-a-bitch?" screamed Wainwright. He recognized Dave's face. The nurse peeked around Bushman to see what the commotion was about. Wainwright kicked Dave in the face. As Bushman turned around, Wainwright grabbed the pole holding the IV, swung it around, and knocked Bushman to the floor with it. The nurse struggled to get to Wainwright.

"Those two sons-of-bitches are trying to kill me," screamed Wainwright. He ran out of the room, exposing his bare bottom from the back of his hospital gown.

Bushman tripped over Dave as he got up and tried to go after Wainwright. He then stumbled over the IV line Wainwright had just pulled out of his arm. The nurse buzzed for hospital security. As Dave tried to get up, he stumbled over Bushman and got tangled in the line. Wainwright had found the stairwell and was on his way down.

Bushman and Dave ran out of the room, looked in both directions, and didn't see any sign of Wainwright.

"You freaking idiot," screamed Dave. "How in the hell did you ever get to be Chief of Police in the first place?"

"Screw you, Peltier," hollered Bushman. He pointed down the left side of the hall.

"Look, I'll go that way and you take the other direction."

"No, I'll go to the left and you take the right," said Dave.

"What the hell difference does it make who goes where?"

"Because I don't like you telling me what to do. I don't like cops, especially ones who get positions the way you got yours."

"Listen here, Peltier. I earned my position through years of hard work and dedication."

"Oh, yeah, right. And I suppose Carlos Verona had nothing to do with it."

Bushman was fuming. "I have no connection with that man, Peltier. How dare you insinuate that I got my position by associating myself with that mobster?"

"What seems to be the problem?" asked Carlos, who was passing by the room on his way to get coffee.

"Oh, Mr. Verona, sir," said the fidgety Bushman. "How long have you been standing there?"

"I just walked up and saw you arguing with this man here. Is there a problem?"

"Absolutely not, sir," said Bushman. "Everything is under control."

"Why don't you tell Verona here what just happened?" asked Dave.

"No, everything's fine," said Bushman.

"What is this gentleman talking about, Bushman?" asked Carlos.

Suddenly, two armed security guards came running to the room. The nurse opened the door behind them and screamed, "Wainwright just got away."

Carlos was stunned. "What does she mean by that?"

"Nobody was supposed to know he was here," Bushman bawled at the nurse.

"Well, I'm the one taking care of him so obviously I knew who he was," said the nurse. "Go find him," she directed the confused guards. "He'll be the half-naked old man running through the halls."

They ran off in different directions while Carlos stood there, waiting for an explanation.

"Sir," said Bushman. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Tony was sitting at the table with Kat when Officer Gillis brought him the news.

"You found my fettuccine? Where is she?"

"I just saw her running out the front door."

"Oh my. I must go after her." He turned to Kat. "I'm glad to hear your mother is doing fine, but I must go after Deborah." He ran out of the cafeteria. As he passed in front of the stairwell, the door flung opened and Wainwright ran into Tony, knocking them both to the floor.

"They're after me, Tony," screamed Wainwright. As he got up, his gown fell completely off and he ran naked through the front lobby, and out the front door. Tony got up and started running to the front door. He was torn between going after Debbie or his naked friend.

At the airport, Benny and Julie got off the plane. Benny wanted to check on Andie and Debbie. He dropped Julie off at her hotel and headed to Andie's apartment, which was a few blocks away from the hospital. When he got close, he saw Tony running down the street, chasing after an old, naked man. He made a quick turn but didn't see them when he got around. Tony caught up with Wainwright and wrestled him to the ground.

"Why are you running away, Joseph?" asked the out-of-breath Tony.

"Those two guys are after me," said Wainwright.

"What two guys?"

"The two guys that started this whole downslide." He started coughing from being out of breath. "That tall one tricked me into drinking one day at the office. He must have known about my chronic alcoholism. He put something in the drink – some kind of roofie. I woke up behind the 7-Eleven. All I wanted to do after that was drink. That other man kept finding after that, giving me more drugs, making me black out, and making me want nothing but the booze. I lost everything. Most of all - I lost my pride. I couldn't bring myself to tell anybody. He's the Chief of Police. His men have been helping him keep me this way."

"Where are they now?" asked Tony.

"They were in my room. I woke up and the tall one was about to stick a needle in my IV. I'm not safe in that place."

Tony looked around and saw a beach towel hanging over a wooden fence nearby. He grabbed the towel and gave it to Wainwright to cover himself.

"You stay right there, Joseph. I'll go back to the hospital, find my friend, Officer Gillis, and try to get those two men," said Tony. He ran back to the hospital, coming out of some bushes just after Benny drove by.

"What kind of bad news are you talking about?" Carlos asked Bushman. "And what did that nurse mean by Wainwright getting away?"

Dave was smiling as Bushman stumbled to find an explanation.

"Well, Mr. Verona, it, ah, seems that Wainwright was admitted to the hospital for some kind of rapid detox."

"I don't understand. I thought the drugs you gave him were supposed to keep him wanting nothing but alcohol."

"Well, sir, apparently somebody admitted him," said Bushman.

"Who in the hell did that? That man is not supposed to get better. He is supposed to suffer for stealing the love of my life all those years ago."

"I thought I was the love of your life," said Isabella, who had just walked up behind him. "Who were you just talking about?"

"Sweetheart," said the surprised Carlos. "I would like you to meet some business associates of mine."

"Who were you just talking about?" demanded Isabella.

"You, of course. You are the love of my life."

"But I was never stolen, like you just accused Wainwright of doing. Wasn't he the man who stole your precious Louise from you back in Chicago?"

"I need to get going, sir," said Bushman. He knew a window of opportunity when he saw one. Dave just stood there with a smile.

"Are you going to answer me or not?" said Isabella.

"I'm doing business right now, sweetheart," said Carlos, trying to avoid the questioning.

"Well, it looks like one of your business associates just left, while the other one is just standing there with a silly grin."

"It looks like she's got you in quite a pickle, hey Carlos?" laughed Dave. Carlos stood in place, wanting to kill Dave, and trying to figure out what to say to his wife.

"Sweetheart, this man is my financial advisor," said Carlos. "He came here to see how our precious Frank is doing."

"Man, Carlos. You're going to have to come up with something better than that. Look at her. She's not buying one bit of your explanation."

Carlos glared at Dave and blurted, "Just who in the hell are you, anyway? And do you realize who I am?"

"Well, judging from the way your wife is looking at you, I'd say you're a man who is in deep shit. And as for the question of who I am - I'm the man who's going to ruin you."

Isabella stood there with her arms crossed. She was waiting patiently for Carlos to come up with a better story than the one he was dancing around. Carlos was debating who to confront first – his wife, who looked as if she were about to devour him, or the man standing right there, threatening to ruin everything he'd been working for.

"Izzy, what are you doing here?" was the voice suddenly heard.

Isabella turned around and saw Officer Gillis. She combed her fingers through her hair, making sure it was in place.

"Velma, hello," said the nervous Isabella. Officer Gillis gave Isabella a huge, loving hug, but Isabella tried to make it look more impersonal.

"My son is here. He received his transplant this morning. This is my husband, Carlos."

Gillis looked confused. She knew who Carlos Verona was but didn't realize Isabella was married to him. In fact she didn't know Isabella was married at all, much less even had a son. They were secret lovers, who met every Wednesday evening at a lesbian bar called Leather & Lace.

"Pleased to meet you – Velma?" asked Carlos. Gillis extended her hand to Carlos.

"Officer Velma Gillis. Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Verona."

"I guess you know who I am."

"Everyone on the police force knows who you are, sir. In fact, everyone in this town knows who you are. I'm surprised not many people know who your wife is."

"I like to keep a low profile," said Isabella.

"Obviously," said Gillis. Dave studied the situation and started laughing.

"What in the hell are you laughing at?" asked Carlos.

"This is great," said Dave. "The great Carlos Verona is here, trying to explain to his wife about the love of his life, while his wife is here with her lover. It just doesn't get any better than this."

"Her what?" asked Carlos.

"Don't listen to this man, honey," said Isabella. "She's just my good friend."

Officer Gillis understood the need for discretion and backed up the statement.

"Yes, Izzy and I go way back. She's a good friend," said Gillis.

"Why haven't I ever heard about her?" asked Carlos.

"Maybe it's because you're always too busy to pay any attention to me. You're always conducting some kind of business deal. You never have any time for me." She started crying. "I'm tired of all this, Carlos. The stress of Frank's illness and you never being there for me has just taken its toll on me. I want out of this marriage. I want a divorce." She started sobbing uncontrollably as she fell into Velma's arms.

Carlos stared at the two women hugging each other and understood what was happening.

"It looks like you're losing another one, Carlos," said Dave. "Are you going to have Peter do the same thing to this officer here as you did to Wainwright?"

"What do you know about Wainwright?" asked Officer Gillis.

"He doesn't know a damn thing," said Carlos. "Could I have a few words with you, sir?" he pulled Dave down the hall.

"Who in the hell are you and what are you trying to do to me?"

"Hey, don't your panties all tied in a knot, Carlos," said Dave. "I'm working for Peter Grimes. I'm the one who arranged this whole scheme of putting Wainwright out of commission and staging the plane crash. You should be thanking me."

"I guess you're right. That crash put my son in line for the operation he just got. What about Wainwright? Does he know what's going on?"

"You let me worry about that. Right now, you need to figure out what you're going to do about your wife." Carlos turned around and saw Isabella and Velma in a warm embrace.

"I think I'm going to be sick," said a disgusted Carlos.

Benny stopped at Andie's apartment, but she wasn't there. She had gone to Harold's apartment, trying to find him. Benny went home to unpack and change before going back to the hotel to see Julie. He was looking forward to spending the rest of the day in bed with her. He drove by Debbie's apartment but saw that her car wasn't there. At least he had tried to be the consoling friend. He kept going to the hotel.

After trying to find Harold at his apartment, Andie went to the office, hoping to find him there. She had no idea where he could be located.

Harold and Gina were on their way home from New Orleans. Not a word was said between the two on the flight. Harold was trying to figure out what to do about the mess he was involved in. Gina was just getting bored. After arriving at New Lake City International, they hopped into Harold's car.

"I need to stop at the office before I bring you home," said Harold. "Is that okay with you?"

"Whatever," said Gina. She was ready to be back home in San Diego. There was a doctor, a college professor, and a rock musician in San Diego all eagerly awaiting her return.

Andie went to her own office after searching for Harold. She started digging through the Verona files. Most of the cases involving Verona had something to do with the death of someone who had a history of liver disease. The case she won for him had the same outcome – one person from the transplant list was eliminated. William Joseph Wainwright's name was on all the documents, including hers. She found this strange, since Wainwright was presumed missing in Africa a couple of days after her winning the case. She found a copy of her hiring papers, which were signed by Wainwright himself. She noticed a slight difference between the signature on the papers and the ones on the Verona documents. She was searching for other discrepancies when she heard two pairs of footsteps echoing from the empty hall. As the sound passed her office, she cracked the door open to see who it was. She saw Harold turning the corner, followed by Gina. She heard the door to the file room open and close.

"What are you looking for?" asked Gina.

"I know there are some documents linking me to Apocalypse Records. I need to find them before someone else does."

"So you're the one who Uncle Carlos is buying the record company for. I thought it was Peter Grimes."

"No, it's for me. Peter arranged that deal when I came aboard. I was to get the company and Peter was to get everything else. I don't know what went wrong."

"You're a bad boy," said Gina, who started feeling amorous again. "I like that in a man." She walked up to Harold and started stroking the inside of his legs.

"Back off, damn it," Harold shouted. "I'm not going to have sex with you anymore. You're the sixteen-year-old niece of the most notorious man in this city. I'm in enough trouble as it is."

"I love it when you're mad," said Gina. She grabbed Harold's face and tried to drive her tongue down his throat.

"Leave me alone," screamed Harold, as he pushed her away.

Gina smiled. "Oh, so you do like it rough. That's cool." She ran back to him and tore off his shirt. "What do you think about that, tough guy?"

Harold was steaming. "Listen here, you little bitch..."

"Don't you dare call me that," said Gina, as she grabbed his belt and flung it across the room. "Nobody calls me that." She undid the button holding up Harold's trousers and forced them down to his knees. "You have to pay for calling me that." She got on her knees as she pulled his boxers down.

"I can't believe I'm letting you do this to me," whimpered Harold.

"I'm going to do more than just this," said Gina, as she pushed him down on the oversized conference table. She pulled her dress over her head, revealing her beautiful, naked body. She climbed on top of Harold and started humping him as if she were a jockey in the Kentucky Derby, coming down the home stretch.

Andie was standing outside the closed door, listening to the whole thing.

CHAPTER FIFTY: _Jamaica Me Crazy_

Nick caught the first flight out of Lafayette Regional Airport to Dallas. He had called Father Thibodeaux before leaving, explaining the events at the park. Father Thibodeaux advised him to just follow his heart. If it were meant to be, then Phil would go to him when the time was right. He got to DFW and found out there was a three-hour layover before he could get a connecting flight to New Lake City. He quickly found one of the bars. He ordered a Crown on the rocks than looked at the bartender's nametag.

"Thanks, Bart," Nick told the server.

"You're welcome, Nick," he replied with a warm smile.

"Do I know you?" asked Nick. "You look familiar."

"Sure you do. It's me - Bart, but I also think you know that gentleman sitting over there," he said while pointing to a small table.

Nick looked off the side at one of the tables and saw a familiar sight – it was Mr. Levon. He was sitting next to a woman just a few years younger. He was laughing and flirting with the woman. This didn't look like the behavior of a man who had just been ousted from his own company. Nick made his way to the table, forgetting about the bartender.

"Mr. Levon?" asked Nick.

Mr. Levon looked at Nick and yelled, "Nick, my boy. Good to see you. What the hell are you doing here?" He got up from the table to give Nick a handshake. His extended belly knocked over the drinks onto the lady's lap. "Oh, I'm sorry, Ursula, my dear. Let me clean that up for you."

"That's quite all right, Robert," said the woman.

"How rude of me," said Mr. Levon. "Nick, this is Ursula Vanderhousen. Ursula, this is Nick Peltier. He works for me."

Nick was confused. "Uh, sir, I don't want to seem uncompassionate, but I used to work for you."

"What, did you quit?" asked the somewhat inebriated Mr. Levon.

"No, sir. You're the one who doesn't work for Apocalypse anymore. Don't you remember?"

"Oh, that thing," he laughed. "There's nothing to worry about there. That was just..."

"Robert," interrupted Ms. Vanderhousen. "We're not supposed to talk about that."

"Oh, that's right. Sorry about that. Forget I said anything about that, Nick."

Nick looked at Ms. Vanderhousen. He remembered Andie talking about her. She looked exactly as Andie described her.

"Don't you work for Wainwright and Grimes?" asked Nick. Vanderhousen got fidgety.

"I think our plane is boarding now, Robert," she said.

"Gotta go, Nick. We're off to Jamaica. I'll see you when we get back." He shook Nick's hand, grabbed Vanderhousen's hand, and they walked toward the gate.

What was that all about? thought Nick. He went back to the bar and ordered another drink.

The festival in Lafayette was winding down as Elderberry searched through the crowd for Fast Phil. He found a little secluded park in the middle of Downtown, sat on a bench, and tried to sort out the situation.

"Let's see," he said to himself. "Pel-tire was here, talking to a man whose picture was given to me by a homeless drunk in New Lake City. Pel-tire said the man was his father, who he never saw before this. That old, homeless man was telling me to keep an eye on Pel-tire and he would lead me to the murderer. I need to find out what connection Pel-tire's father had with Zipper Down. Wait a second. What if the old man was talking about someone else at that table? That Rogers character was at the next table. Why was he in New Orleans with the niece of Carlos Verona? Maybe this whole Pel-tire thing is a decoy to keep me away from the real investigation. Why was Chief Bushman so happy to see me detained in Chicago? It seems as if he closed the investigation rather early. What about the pizza box? I haven't found out about that yet. Why did that BreastMaster chick threaten me? She knew about that sleazy agent, Gary Bell. Come to think of it, what were Myers, Rogers, and Pel-tire all doing in New Orleans at the same time? I found them all fairly easy – but then again, I am a great detective. They were never in the same place at the same time. Maybe that was to throw me off."

"Who are you talking to?" asked a voice.

Elderberry looked up and saw Fast Phil.

"Damn it. You startled me."

"Sorry about that," said Phil. "I saw you sitting here, talking to yourself. I have something to ask you."

"Go ahead, Pel-tire."

"It's pronounced 'Pel-tee-ay' – and how do you know my name?"

"Whatever. What do you want to ask?"

"Why are you following my son?"

"That's what I'd like to know. Tell me, have you ever been in New Lake City?"

"No, why?"

"Why would an old, homeless man in New Lake City have a picture of you?" Elderberry took out the picture of show Phil.

"Where did you get this picture?"

"I just told you – an old homeless man in New Lake City gave it to me. Who are all these other people?"

Phil studied the picture closely. "That's me, my wife, I don't remember that guy's name, and – that guy in the corner is Carlos Verona."

"Carlos Verona?"

"Yeah. He was trying to make a name for himself back in Chicago. I ended up marrying the woman who once belonged to him."

Elderberry started to make a connection. "So, you stole Carlos Verona's lover away from him?"

"Well, actually, no. I got her after someone else took her away from him."

"Would you happen to know who that someone was?"

"It was this guy in the picture. Let me think \- I believe his name was Bill Wainwright or something like that."

"Bill? That would be the nickname for William. William Joseph Wainwright. Could this be the same person?"

Phil thought for a second. "You know, I did notice that name in the news. It didn't ring a bell at the time. Do you have a picture of him?"

"I'm not involved in that at all. I'm just trying to find out who killed Zipper Down."

Phil looked at a trashcan nearby and saw a newspaper sticking out the top. He walked over and grabbed it. It was the Sunday Advertiser. He found a picture on page two.

"He's a lot older, but that's the same guy," said Phil.

Elderberry studied the picture. He took a pencil from his overcoat and started drawing on the picture. He added a few wrinkles, scrambled the hair, and drew a beard. He took the eraser and smeared the graphite a bit, giving it a grayish appearance.

"That's the old man," revealed Elderberry. "That's the old, homeless man who gave me this picture."

"Why would he give you this?"

"He said that Pel-tire would lead me to the murderer, then gave me this picture. Would you know anything about this?"

"Wouldn't that be strange if he was talking about my brother?"

"You have a brother?"

"An older brother, just by one year. I haven't spoken to him in almost forty years. The last thing I heard, he was in prison. We look almost exactly alike. I lost all contact with anybody related to me. It wouldn't surprise me if he got involved in any of this. I just found out that I have a son. I knew I had a kid, but didn't care to know anything about it. My mother died and I didn't even find out about it until almost eighteen years later. I don't know what made me come back here, but something did. Now, I find out that my son is involved with Verona and Wainwright in some way. Man, this has been one heck of a visit."

"I need to get back to New Lake City. There's something strange going on," said Elderberry.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE: _Naked_

Wainwright couldn't stay put. He went against Tony's wishes and started running. He ran into the street just as Benny was on his way back to Julie's hotel. Benny slammed on the brakes, missing Wainwright by inches.

"What are you doing, you crazy, old man?" screamed Benny.

"You gotta help me," said the frantic Wainwright. "They're going to get me."

"Are you nuts?" said the apprehensive Benny.

"That's what they want you to think," said Wainwright. He turned around to see if he was being followed. He didn't notice his towel fall off. Benny was feeling weird about an old, naked man talking to him in the middle of traffic.

"Just get in the car," said Benny. He unlocked the passenger door for the old man. As he drove away, Wainwright told Benny the entire story of the big con game going on.

"So if you're William Joseph Wainwright, and your firm is the legal owner of Apocalypse Records, what does Jamie O'Malley have to do with this whole mess?" asked Benny.

"Would she be that good-looking redhead you and Nick were having lunch with a few days ago?"

"Yes - hey, how do you know about that lunch?"

"I was across the street at that 7-Eleven."

"Do you know her?"

"She works for the FBI. They've been investigating me for years."

Benny slammed on the brakes. "What in the heck are you talking about?"

"If you're going to stay parked, kid, you might want to get out of the traffic."

Benny pulled of the road and into a parking lot. "This isn't making any sense. Why would an FBI agent be posing as a new owner of our company and be investigating you?"

"Because I've been trying to have Carlos Verona killed for years," said Wainwright.

"You're trying to kill him?"

"Not me, personally. I hired people to do the deed. They didn't do a very good job. It looks like Carlos got to me first."

"I don't understand this whole thing. Why were you trying to have Carlos killed?"

"Look, kid. It's a long story. I stole his woman from him years ago. He's been out to get me ever since. He set up shop here in New Lake City just a few months after I started my practice. Neither of us got to keep the girl, but that son-of-a-bitch sure holds a grudge. My friend told me to put out a contract on him before he had the chance to do it to me, so I did. The FBI doesn't exactly like that kind of thing, so they've been watching me for years. O'Malley just happens to be the most recent investigator on my case."

Benny didn't know what to do. For one thing, he had never learned how to talk to a naked old man in a car before.

"Let me take you to your home to get you some clothes," said Benny.

"No – can't do that. That's what they want me to do. They're waiting for me."

"Who are they?"

"I don't know. It's either the FBI or Carlos's people. Someone has been living in my house ever since I fell off the wagon. I can't go back there."

Benny was curious. "Why don't we take a ride by there and see if anybody is inside."

"Okay," said Wainwright, "but I'm going to be here on the floor. You just let me know what you see."

Debbie was wandering around town aimlessly. Her tear-soaked cheeks were pink as the breeze from the lake chilled her face. She walked in front of El Muchacho, the Mexican restaurant, and decided to go in for a margarita. The lunch crowd had just left and Chaz Reed was setting up his equipment in a corner near the bar. He performed there on Sunday and Thursday evenings. He noticed Debbie sitting all alone at the bar. He casually approached the bar and asked Raul, the bartender, for a Coke. He turned to Debbie.

"I haven't seen you in here before," said Chaz.

"Probably because I've never been in here before."

"I'm Chaz - Chaz Reed."

"I'm unimpressed - thoroughly unimpressed."

"Do I sense a bit of iciness?"

"Look, if you're trying to pick me up, forget it," proclaimed Debbie. "I've had it with men. You are nothing but lying, deceitful, vulgar, and unfaithful human beings, and I use that term very loosely."

"It looks like you're going through a tough time." Chaz wasn't taken aback with Debbie's attitude. In his line of work, he had encountered dozens of women in her predicament.

"You can't even imagine how tough. I've just uncovered the most diabolical scheme this city has ever seen, and it doesn't excite me one bit. You know, I usually get off on things like this, but it's being overshadowed by a stupid, cheating, man."

"If you don't mind me asking, what kind off scheme did you just discover?"

"I do mind you asking. Why don't you just leave me alone?"

"Okay, sorry," said Chaz. He turned to Raul and said, "Man, Raul, it must be something in the air. Kristi just told me this morning I had to move out. She said that something big was going on and I couldn't stay in the mansion anymore."

"That is a shame," said Raul. "That is the nicest house in all of New Lake City. You were lucky to be able to stay there as long as you did."

"What mansion are you talking about?" asked the interested Debbie.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to me."

"I still don't but I just heard the bartender say you were living in the nicest house in town."

"That's right."

"Could that be the Wainwright mansion near Deville Creek?"

"She did mention something about some guy named Wainwright owning the place. I never questioned it." Chaz was one to always go with the flow.

"Who's she?"

"My girlfriend, Kristi."

"I never understood how she could afford to live there," said Raul. "I didn't think record company secretaries made that kind of money."

"Well, she just quit her job last week," said Chaz. "I guess she really didn't need to work anyway. This Wainwright guy must be her sugar daddy or something."

"What do you know about Wainwright?" asked Debbie.

"I know he's been out of the country for a about a year and for some reason, Kristi is living at his house. I don't ask questions. She's been letting me live there rent-free with her. I never question a good thing."

"So, you're living with this girl, who just happens to be living in a mansion that belongs to one of the wealthiest men in this city – which you don't even ask why – and you're trying to hit on me."

"I'm just making conversation. I'm not trying to pick you up or anything like that. Excuse me, I'm sorry."

"I don't want to seem like a bitch or anything like that," said the always-apologetic Debbie. "It's just that men have been putting me through hell these last few days. You just happen to be one of the gender."

"No, problem. I'll leave you alone and finish setting up my equipment. It was nice to meet you, I think."

Debbie drank the rest of her margarita. She decided this place was as good as any to hide out from the troubles she was experiencing.

As Benny approached Wainwright's home, the old man began to get even more neurotic. He noticed a black Jaguar with the license plate reading G BELL.

"That's Gary Bell's Jaguar," shouted Wainwright.

"Who's Gary Bell?" asked Benny.

"He's the sleaziest man I've ever met. He makes Grimes and Verona seem like Abbott and Costello."

"What does he have to do with all this mess?"

"I don't know. Park the car right here. I think I see someone coming out of the house." Benny pulled the car into a driveway across the street. He and Wainwright turned and looked through the back glass. They saw a tall, bald-headed man wearing a long, black overcoat walking from the house. Clutching his arm was a ravishing, bleached-blond beauty, carrying a suitcase.

"That's Kristi," said Benny.

"That's Bell. I recognize that ridiculous prosthetic left hand. Who is Kristi?"

"She was the receptionist at Apocalypse until last week. She quit."

"Do you know why she quit?"

"Some detective upset her, and she just quit."

"Would that detective have been Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry?"

Once again, Benny was amazed. "Yeah – how did you know?"

"He's the best snoop this city has ever seen. I tried to steer him in the right direction but he didn't take the bait. I haven't seen him in a few days. I wonder what lead he's following?"

"Haven't you seen the news?" asked Benny. "He's been tracking the supposed killer in Chicago. He mentioned the killer being associated with Apocalypse Records."

"Well, at least he's right about that. The killer is associated with your record company." Oh, my God, thought Benny. It is Kat.

"Get down," said Wainwright. "I don't want him to see me."

They lowered themselves in the front seat as the Jaguar pulled out of the driveway and left. A sudden tap was heard at the window. They looked up and saw a patrolman staring down at them through the window. He saw Benny crouched in the front seat right next to an old, naked man. Benny slowly lowered the window. He knew he was going to have a tough time explaining this one.

"May I help you, officer?" asked the red-faced Benny.

"Would you mind telling me what you're doing in Peter Grimes's driveway, hunched over in the front seat – with an old, naked man?"

"Peter Grimes?" yelled Wainwright. "What happed to the Rickman family? They've been living here for years."

"I'm sorry, sir," said the patrolman. "This is Peter Grimes's private residence and I'm going to have to ask you to leave. And would you please put some clothes on that man before I take you in for public indecency?"

"Yes, sir," said Benny. "Right away, and I'm sorry if we've caused any problems." He quickly backed out and sped away.

"This isn't good," said Wainwright.

"You're not kidding. He could have thrown us in jail."

"No, I mean about Grimes living right across the street from me. He's been trying to get the Rickman family to move out of that house for years. And what in the hell is Bell doing in my house? He doesn't have anything to do with the feds or Verona. This isn't good at all."

"Do you want me to follow his car?"

"Yeah, you do that," said Wainwright. He peeked in the backseat and noticed one of Benny's jackets. "Hey, do you mind if I cover myself up with that sport coat of yours back there?"

"By all means, please do," said Benny.

"It sure would be embarrassing if someone saw me naked in here," said Wainwright.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO: _Kat Calling_

Harold couldn't find anything linking him to Apocalypse Records. He was still wiping off the sweat and putting on his clothes as he continued his search.

"Okay, I'm bored with you again," said Gina, as she slid her dress on over her head. "You can take me home now."

"Okay, it looks like everything is clear here," said Harold. He had enough of Gina.

Andie had already made it to her apartment. She wanted to collect her thoughts and figure out what to do about the situation with Peter Grimes. She knew she couldn't count on Harold for help, since it seemed he probably was in on the whole thing. She was about to pick up the phone to call the police when it started ringing.

"Hello?"

"Andie, hi. It's Harold."

"Oh, hello stranger," said Andie. She decided to play it cool and not let him know she knew what was going on. "Where are you?"

"I'm bringing a client home right now." Gina was sitting next to him in the car, shaking her head in disgust.

"What did you find out about Wainwright?" asked Andie.

"Oh – he's, uh, still missing. I guess you heard the news about Francine Grimes."

"Yes, I sure did. It's tragic."

"Yeah, it is. I'm going to visit him at the hospital after I drop Gina, I mean Carlos's Aunt Regina off at the airport."

"I thought you just said you were bringing a client home?"

"Uh, yeah, I mean I have to drop by Carlos' house to pick up her bags then bring her to the airport."

"Didn't you bring dear Aunt Regina to the airport last week?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, I did. She came back into town over the weekend and now she's going back." Gina started laughing over Harold stumbling all over himself.

"Oh, I see," said Andie. "Well, when am I going to be graced with the pleasure of seeing you again?"

"How about tonight?"

"That would be perfect. Chaz Reed is playing again this evening at El Muchacho. I'm in the mood for some great Mexican food – you know, something spicy to get us all hot and bothered."

"Uh, yeah, that would be great."

"You better be prepared to get what you've been missing," said Andie, in the sultriest of voices.

"Okay, that sounds great. I'll pick you up at eight, if that's okay."

"That sounds perfect, my little stud-man. Bye." Harold had no idea how he was going to be able to pull of another sexual encounter, no matter how much he'd been looking forward to making love to Andie. Of course, Andie had other plans. Even Atticus Finch seemed to stare at her with approval.

Jamie was in her apartment after visiting with Peter. After settling down with a glass of Chardonnay, she checked her messages and made a phone call.

"Hello, sir. This is O'Malley – yes, I know it's getting a little sticky. Grimes looks like hell - Verona is happy as a lark since his son received the transplant – no, sir. No sign of Rogers yet. I expect him to enter the picture anytime. I'm not sure where Nick is – oh, really? I wonder how he ended up in Dallas? – Oh, Vanderhousen. She turned out to be a pretty good contact. I would have questioned her loyalty – Yes, sir, Wainwright was seen in a car a few minutes ago by one of the local patrolmen. He just left a message. Apparently not all the cops are under the Verona control – no, sir, I haven't received word where Elderberry is – Yes, sir, I know he could botch up the whole operation. That's why I sent him on the wild goose chase. I'm sure he'd pinpoint the actual murderer and ruin the big picture – Yes, sir. Carlos Verona and Peter Grimes are about to be put in their places. Oh, sir, I want to thank you again for letting me keep Nick out of the picture. I'm sure he's never been involved with his Uncle Dave – sir, I'm surprised at you. Yes, I guess you could say that if I weren't a lesbian, I'd be married to Nick. I think you're getting way to personal here, sir – I know, sir. A good agent needs to be reminded of being human every once in a while. Thank you, sir. I'll make my move and finish this thing off tomorrow. Agent O'Malley signing off."

She finished her glass of wine, drew a bath, and began to relax.

Benny followed the Jaguar to Hotel Rollins. Gary Bell gave the keys to the valet and went to the other side of the car to let Kristi out. She grabbed his arm and entered the hotel.

"You wait in the car," said Benny. "I'm going to follow them into the hotel, and then I'll go to Julie's room and grab one of those robes that come with the room. Then, I'll come back down and sneak you into her room. We can hide you out there."

"Okay, whatever you say," said Wainwright. Benny saw Bell and Kristi walk up to the elevator. He was close enough to hear him mention the eighteenth floor. That's the floor Julie's room is on, thought Benny. He went to the adjoining elevator and rode up to the same floor. The door opened and he saw the tail end of Bell's long trench coat flip around the corner. Benny hid behind a linen cart as he watched Bell knock on a door. That's Julie's room, thought Benny. He made sure he was completely out of sight as he watched the door open. Julie came out and gave Bell a huge hug.

"What's she doing here?" Julie said, as she glared at Kristi.

"Look, sister, I'm about as happy with this whole arrangement as you are, so just deal with it," said Kristi.

"Don't get testy, ladies," said Bell. "There's plenty of me to go around." He took the small piece of luggage Julie was holding and motioned her to grab his arm – the one not being held tightly by Kristi. They walked right in front of the cart Benny was hiding behind. Benny tried his best to hold back the tears. When the elevator closed, Benny took out the spare key card he had taken the liberty to grab. He opened Julie's room, snatched a robe and jumped as the phone rang. He grabbed the phone and waited for somebody to say something.

"Hello?" said the familiar voice. "Julie, are you there?"

"Kat, is that you?" asked Benny.

"Who is this?"

"It's Benny."

"Oh, shit." A hard click was heard as Kat abruptly hung up the phone.

Why was Kat calling Julie? thought Benny. He saw two large suitcases on the floor near the bed. He noticed a naughty pink nightie hanging on the bathroom doorknob. He ran out of the room, still holding the robe, and went to the elevator. It made two stops on the way down and reached the lobby just as Gary Bell was walking out the front door with Julie and Kristi. The Jaguar was waiting for them and Benny watched them leave. He ran to his car and threw the robe to Wainwright.

"Nice robe," said Wainwright, as Benny flung himself into the driver's seat and floored the gas pedal.

"That bastard has Julie in the car with him," said Benny.

"Who's Julie?"

"She's my – oh, who am I kidding? She's another woman who just took advantage of me. Kat has something to do with this, too."

"Who's this Kat?"

"She's the girl who murdered Zipper Down. I thought you knew that."

"Maybe it's just a nickname," said Wainwright.

The Jaguar entered the freeway and went in the direction of New Lake International. It took the airport exit and went to the long-term parking section.

"It looks like they're going to be going on a long trip," said Wainwright.

"So why did Julie leave most of her stuff in her room?" asked Benny.

"Look, kid. Why don't you go hang out in the airport and find out what's going on. I'll wait right here."

"I feel like a detective," said Benny.

"Just leave your keys," said Wainwright. "I want to be able to listen to the radio."

When Benny got on the terminal bus, Wainwright got behind the steering wheel and sped back into town. He hadn't driven in a few years, and it showed. His erratic driving attracted the attention of a patrolman. Wainwright saw the flashing lights and pulled over. The patrolman walked up to the car.

"Well, at least you put on some clothes," said the officer – the same one who talked to them earlier.

"Look, officer," said Wainwright, "I've got an amazing story to tell you."

"Can I see your license first?"

"I don't have one. I'm wearing a bathrobe. Does it look like I'd be carrying a license?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to take you in."

"That's fine. I don't really remember how to drive, anyway. Are you taking me downtown?"

"Yes, sir. I'm afraid I am."

"Great. I might be able to find somebody there who hasn't been bought by Verona. What about you?"

The officer ignored Wainwright's remark and escorted him to the patrol car.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE: _Mile High Demon_

Nick boarded the American Airlines 747 when the first class section was announced. He was getting used to spending the company's money on luxury seating. He settled in his seat, looked up, and saw a warm, friendly face. It was Shanice.

"Well, what have we here?" she said in a friendly, soothing voice. "It sure is great to see you," said Nick.

"This has been one hell of a trip."

"Let me get all the other passengers situated, then I'll sit and talk to you." She grabbed a glass of wine and handed it to Nick. "Here's something to get you started."

Shanice had quite a few needy passengers and just kept handing Nick wine in between tasks. His bladder was filling up rapidly and soon found nature making its inevitable call. When he stood up, he felt the effect of the wine. He walked into the miniscule bathroom. As he was relieving himself, the plane hit a small air pocket. Nick bumped his head on the ceiling and was knocked out - the wine had a lot to do with it. When he opened his eyes, he saw a strange image in the mirror. It looked like a cross between Jamie, Tony, Lucille, and Andie.

"Hello, Nick," said the ill-defined voice of the image.

"Is that you again, Satan?" asked the dizzy Nick.

"Could be, what do you think?"

"I think you need to either leave me alone, or quit meeting me in bathrooms. This is getting a little ridiculous."

"So you haven't figured it out yet."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know – it."

"I don't know it or what or even why this is all happening."

"Didn't this trip provide you with the answers?"

"I don't even know the questions."

"You are such a hopeless case."

"I guess that's a good sign when you say I'm hopeless."

"Don't you see what you've just gone through? You've met your father and your grandfather. You've seen your old best friend, and even he told you about you talking of Andie in your sleep. Do I need to hit you over the head with a brick?"

"Oh, so now you're playing cupid?"

"No need for that. The arrow has already pierced your heart. Andie is the answer to all that has troubled you these last few years. You're not afraid of me, if I'm actually who you think I am. You're afraid of being rejected again. Your father rejected you and so did Jamie. If you don't give it a shot, you'll never have the chance to experience the joys of true love."

"What kind of advice is that for someone like you to be giving?"

"Oh, come on, Nick. Get off this obsession with me and get on with your life. I'm not what you need – Andie is."

"Will you leave me alone if I do?"

"I only go where I'm allowed to go. I show up in many different shapes and forms. People accept me and I'm able to take over their lives. You have never accepted me. You are basically a good person. It takes a lot to win over someone like you. I'll try you again later. As simple as you seem to be – it will take a complex plan to acquire your soul."

Nick rubbed the bump on his head as the image faded away. He heard a knock on the door.

"Nick, are you okay?" asked Shanice.

Nick opened the door and smiled. "I'm great," he proclaimed. He staggered back to his seat amidst the stares of everyone in the first class section. Shanice sat next to him.

"You noticed how everyone just glared at me as I walked out of that room?" Nick asked Shanice. "I think they were in awe of me. I've just conquered the Devil."

Shanice leaned over and whispered in his ear," I'm not sure what you're talking about, Nick, but I think they were staring at you because your fly is unzipped and you're not wearing underwear."

Nick looked down and turned every shade imaginable as he zipped up his pride.

"What did you just mean about conquering the Devil?" asked Shanice.

"He doesn't want me. He just told me in there."

"So you're trying to tell me that you just had a conversation with the Devil in the bathroom?"

"Yeah."

"What did he tell you?"

"He said I'm a good person and I'm in love with Andie."

"And it took the Devil for you to realize this?"

"I think so."

"Don't you think it has something to do with the fact that you just discovered who your grandfather is, you had contact with your father, you talked to the nurse who was there at your birth, and your old best friend told you that you were dreaming about her?"

Nick was amazed. "How did you possibly know about all that?"

"I told you – I have the gift."

"That sure is one powerful gift. You hit it on the head."

"So maybe it wasn't the Devil you were talking to in the bathroom. Maybe you actually talked to your inner self. For the first time in many years, you're letting your heart tell you what to do instead of being afraid of it. Maybe the Devil was just an excuse for you to stay away from any kind of emotional attachments. Maybe it's finally time for you to take that chance and go after what you really need – love."

"I believe you're right," said Nick. "You've been a great help, Shanice." He leaned over and gave her a little kiss on the cheek.

"Now, when you get home, there's going to be a little mess going on between those lawyers Andie works for and your record company. Let Andie sort out those problems before you make any kind of confession to her."

"What about her and Hal, Horace, Horrible – oh, whatever his name is."

"If you're talking about Harold, I don't think you have anything to worry about. Just don't scare her off."

"So I should go after her slowly?"

"Just be yourself, Nick, and the rest will take care of itself. Follow your heart." She got up and gave him another glass of wine. "Here, enjoy this one and relax. Take a nap. When you get home, go to your apartment, play your guitar, listen to some music, you know – anything to get back in touch with your inner self. Let Andie see the true you."

Nick smiled as he took the glass. Shanice went to her little area just behind the cockpit and picked up the phone.

"O'Malley, this is Agent Motabi," said Shanice.

"Hello, Motabi," said Jamie, who was relaxing in a tub of raspberry-scented bubbles. "Where are you?"

"We're about an hour and a half away from New Lake."

"Who are we?"

"I have Nick on the plane."

"That's great. I lost contact with him. I just found out he was in Dallas."

"Well, Agent Williams called me from Lafayette when Nick left his house. He let me know of Nick's plans to come back to New Lake. I arranged to take this flight, knowing he'd be on it."

"Great work, Motabi. Will he be a problem when he gets back?"

"Not at all. He bought that gift line I gave him. He's going to stay home and relax for a while. It should give you enough time to do what you need to do without Nick knowing a thing."

"Thank you, Motabi. I really want to keep Nick out of this whole mess."

"And thank you, too, O'Malley. Nick is really a sweet person and it was a pleasure to watch him. One thing that concerns, me though; he seems to have some kind of fascination with the Devil."

Jamie laughed. "Oh don't worry about that. That's just his excuse for not wanting to get involved with anyone."

"That's exactly what I told him."

"Okay, great. I'll be ready for tomorrow. Thanks for the good work." Jamie put the phone down and smiled. Her plan was working perfectly as everything was coming together. She closed her eyes as the flicker of the candles surrounding the tub put her in a tranquil mood. She opened her eyes as a sudden voice was heard.

"Who's there?" she asked.

"Who do you want me to be?" asked the eerie voice.

The patrol officer entered the precinct with Wainwright. He brought him straight to Captain Wilcox.

"What have we here, Phipps?" asked Wilcox.

"He was driving without a license and had erratic moves, going over the center line, and was speeding," said the officer.

"Is he drunk?" asked Wilcox?

"No, but I'd sure like to be," said the sobering Wainwright. "I'm not used to being in this condition."

"I'll take care of this one, Phipps. Thanks for bringing him to me," said Wilcox.

Officer Phipps left Wainwright and Wilcox alone in the room.

"Are you one of Verona's goons?" asked Wainwright.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean – are you on the take too, like your beloved chief Bushman?"

"Just who in the hell are you?"

"My name is William Joseph Wainwright. Does that ring a bell?"

Wilcox was stunned. He knew that Wainwright was presumed missing somewhere of the coast of Africa. He also had knowledge about Bushman having dealings with Verona.

"Do you know what's going on around here?" asked Wilcox.

"I can tell you that most of this police force is being controlled by Carlos Verona. They've been drugging me on a regular basis. That Phipps guy just now wasn't one of them, I hope."

"He was just hired two days ago. Tell me more."

"Before I tell you this, you have to promise me I'll be safe."

"I promise."

"Swear?"

"Yes, I swear."

"Swear on your mother's grave?"

"How did you know that my mother was dead?"

"Sorry about that – lucky guess. Just look me straight in the eyes and give me your word that I'll be protected."

Wilcox gave the most sincere look he could. "You have my word."

"Okay - there's this man named Dave Peltier who's been behind this whole scheme. He's been helping your Chief do Verona's dirty work. They're trying to kill me."

Wainwright explained the scenario to Wilcox, who was receptive to the idea of helping Wainwright out.

"This is all fascinating," said Wilcox, "but I don't understand why you sent Elderberry on a wild goose chase."

"Whether you like the man or not, he's damn good. I was trying to lead him to the killer. He made a mistake and went after the wrong guy. Man, I sure could use a drink right now. He could have cracked this case wide open before the feds could get what they really want."

"And what would that be?"

"They want to bring down Verona. Unfortunately, there have been too many people on his side. He owns this town."

"So the feds are in on this?"

"Yeah, so watch your back. I know you and Elderberry don't quite get along, but he's definitely not one of the bad guys in this mess. I need both of you to help me out."

"He's the one person I really don't want to work with, but I will if I have to," said Wilcox.

"Now we just need to find out how Gary Bell fits into this scam."

"The Gary Bell?" asked a surprised Wilcox.

"Yeah, you've heard of him?"

"He's the only man Verona was ever worried about. The Chief always talked about how he'd like to nail Verona, and Bell would be the one man to do it."

"But if the chief is in on this scam to help Verona, why would he want to bring him down?" asked the baffled Wainwright.

"Everybody wants control of this city. I can't figure out who to trust anymore. It seems like everybody is busy backstabbing his or her supposed partners. Maybe Elderberry is the only one on the force I can trust." Wilcox pulled a picture out of his pocket and showed it to Wainwright.

"What in the hell is this?" asked the shocked old man, as he gazed at the picture of two men in the sixty-nine position.

"I don't know who the muscular black man is, but the other one is Gerome Elderberry. He did porn work for Gary Bell years back. I kept this picture in case I ever needed to blackmail him. It came close, but if I need to work with him, I can use this picture as insurance. Maybe we can help you out after all."

"Well, you can start by either giving me a drink or getting me back home to my own house. I'm dying to get back into my own clothes. This bathrobe is giving me the willies."

Meanwhile, back in the air, Nick's thoughts were on Andie. Maybe she really is what I need right now. He closed his eyes and started dreaming...

"You look lovely tonight, Andie," said Nick, as he gazed into her eyes across the table. He summoned the waiter to pour her another glass of wine.

"Thank you, Nick," said Andie. "I've been waiting so long for this moment. It feels like a dream."

"It sure does," answered Nick. "Your eyes are glowing like I've never seen eyes glow before. Your hair is shining like the sunrise over the Caribbean. Your neck is screaming to be kissed."

"Stop it, sweetheart," said the blushing Andie. "Save all that for after dinner."

"I'm just trying to get you in the mood."

"I've got a secret for you, lover. I've been in the mood since the moment I laid eyes on you in that little club in Dallas. Nothing you say now is going to increase your chances of getting me into bed now. I'd say your chances are one-hundred percent yes."

"I love those odds," said Nick. "I just want you to know, this isn't just about sex. I can have sex with a woman anytime I want. This is about something else entirely."

"And what would that be?" asked Andie.

"It's about lo..." he had difficulty saying the word.

"Are you trying to say love?"

"I think so."

"But you're not sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. This is definitely about lo..." His tongue froze as he tried to get the word out.

"Say it, Nick."

"Lo... lu... la... le... I can't say the damn word."

"It's okay, Nick. I understand. It's hard for you to say the word if you don't really mean it."

"But I do mean it." He took a deep breath, stood on the chair, and screamed at the top of his lungs across the crowded restaurant, "Andie, I love you."

The patrons in the restaurant applauded at Nick's proclamation. Nick got down from the chair and grabbed Andie's hand. He kissed it lightly and gazed into her glowing blue eyes. She was smiling with a little tear trickling down her cheek.

"I've been waiting so long for you to say that, sweetheart," said the smiling Andie. "There's been something I've wanted to say to you for a long time, too. Sit down. I wanted to hear you say it first before I could say this."

Nick was shaking in anticipation of what Andie was about to say.

"Nick," said Andie.

"Yes, my love. Go ahead." He held her hand with a tight grip.

"I'm a lesbian. I've just been playing with you heart." Her blue eyes turned black with crimson lines shooting out from the irises. She let out a demonic laugh as horns sprung from the top of her darkened mane. "Ahh," screamed Nick...

"What's wrong, Nick?" asked Shanice. Nick woke up, looked at her beautiful face and shook his head.

"I don't think my heart wants to be followed right now."

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR: _Bleached Blonde Bombshell_

Elderberry got on the last available flight from Lafayette to Houston. There, he would be able to get the last connecting flight to New Lake City, putting him in town early evening.

At New Lake International, Benny kept his distance while he kept focus on Julie, Kristi, and Gary Bell. They were checking in on a flight to Argentina. They found three chairs next to window facing the runway. Gary sat in the middle while Julie and Kristi sat on either side of him. Benny positioned himself in a seat on the side of a post where he could keep an eye on them without being seen. Julie excused herself to go to the restroom.

"Hurry back," said Gary. "The plane boards in five minutes."

Julie walked towards the restroom and looked back to see if Gary was watching. When she saw he wasn't, she detoured and went to the nearest payphone. Benny followed her and hid behind a rather large woman using the phone next to Julie.

"Nick, it's Julie. Are you there? Please pick up if you are. I really need to talk to you," were the words Benny heard come from Julie's mouth.

Benny was thinking. Why is she calling Nick? First, Kat calls her, now she's calling Nick. I don't get it.

"Can I help you with something?" asked the large woman, in a sarcastic manner.

"Just stay right there," whispered Benny. "You're doing a great job."

"Do I need to call security?" she asked.

"No, everything's fine. Just keep quiet."

"Security," yelled the woman, just as Gary Bell grabbed Julie's arm and pulled her away.

"I don't need you causing a scene," said Bell. "Let's get out of here. They just announced our flight was suddenly canceled."

Julie looked back and saw Benny running away from a security guard.

"Keep walking and don't look back," said Bell. "Who were you just talking to?"

"I was just calling my mother to let her know I won't be there for her birthday next week," said Julie. What was Benny doing there? she thought.

"Hey, it's the BreastMaster girl," said a curious onlooker. Everybody in the airport turned their heads to see Julie.

"Can't you come up with better clothes to hide this great body of yours?" asked Bell. "I hate it when you draw attention to us."

"I thought you liked attention," said Kristi, who just met up with them. "You're always telling me to dress to show what I've got."

"That's different; you're not famous like Julie," said Bell.

"And who's fault is that?" asked Kristi.

"Hey, don't start with me. I got you that centerfold gig. You're the one who got lazy at that Playboy Mansion and put on the extra ten pounds. It's no wonder nobody wanted to hire you. You were lucky to get that receptionist job at Apocalypse."

"Listen here, you son-of-a-bitch," said the infuriated Kristi. "I was a damn good receptionist for that record company. How was I supposed to know that the asshole detective you warned me about was going to come bother me at work? I didn't have to put up with all that shit. He was an abusive, horrible man – and get a better-looking fake hand. That one looks ridiculous."

"Settle down, baby," said Bell. "You're causing a scene."

"I don't care. And another thing – some men out there actually like the extra weight I put on."

Several men around her started clapping and cheering. She smiled, put her arms way above her head, and did a model's turn for the appreciative male crowd.

"See what I mean?"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Let's just get back home and we can catch the flight tomorrow." He turned around to see Julie. She wasn't there. "Where in the hell did Julie go?"

Julie had sneaked away during the argument. She was trying to find out where Benny went. Benny managed to escape from the pursuit of the security guard. He looked around a corner to see Gary Bell dragging Kristi by the arm, trying to find Julie.

"Look, you wait in that bar over there while I try to find Julie," said Bell.

"And just what makes you think I'll stay?" she asked. Bell stopped and took a deep breath. He put his arms around Kristi and gave her a sweet hug.

"Would you please sit in this bar until I find Julie? I promise I'll make it up to you," he said, in the sweetest of tones.

"That's better," said Kristi. She took a seat at one of the tables and ordered a martini. Benny saw her there, saw Bell running away, but saw no sign of Julie. He casually approached Kristi.

"Kristi, is that you?" he asked.

"Benny. What are you doing here?"

"I'm waiting to pick up my, uh, mother, who's coming in from Philadelphia. How about you?"

"Oh, me? I'm, uh, doing the same thing. My mother's coming to visit me, too."

"Oh, really? What a coincidence. Do you mind if I sit here and wait with you?" Kristi was squirming in her seat.

"Well, my mother is kind of a strange person. I'm not sure what she what do if she saw me sitting here talking to somebody."

"That's weird," said Benny. "Tell me, Kristi – would your mother just happen to be about six feet tall, have a bald head, and be chasing Julie Templeton around this airport?"

"That's not a nice thing to say about my mother."

"Come on, Kristi. I saw you leave William Wainwright's mansion earlier, in the arms of Gary Bell, and now with Julie Templeton."

Kristi was stunned. "What were you doing following me?"

"I was really following Julie. Why are you, her, and Gary Bell all together, apparently trying to leave the country?"

"This is really starting to get screwed up," said Kristi.

"What is?"

"Benny," said Kristi, as she looked to see who was listening, "You weren't supposed to get involved in this."

"In what?"

"You know how Love Blender is doing such a great job on the charts and The Cramping Violets are so popular right now?"

"Yeah, so?"

"I had a lot to do with it."

"I don't understand."

"Well, you see, the agency Gary Bell works for is owned by Carlos Verona. Gary has been doing under the table work without Carlos knowing about it. He's been setting Carlos up for a big fall."

"What have you and Julie got to do with it?"

"I really can't say much more. Gary would kill me. Just get away as fast as you can and don't let Gary..."

"Don't let Gary what?" asked Bell, who just walked up to the table.

"Hello, Mr. Bell," said Benny. "My name is Ben Myers with Apocalypse Records, and..."

"Oh, just shut up, Myers. I know who you are. What are you doing asking Kristi all these questions?"

Benny felt like a rat in the cage. He did the only thing he could think of doing.

"Security," he yelled. A security guard was at the table in a matter of seconds; followed by the large woman Benny was standing next to by the pay phone.

"That's him," said the woman. "That's the man who was harassing me while I was using the phone."

"Sir, could you come with me, please?" the guard asked politely. Benny graciously walked away with the guard. He figured it would be safer than staying there with Gary Bell.

"Just what in the hell were you doing?" Bell asked Kristi, as he grabbed her arm.

"Ouch, damn it, that hurts," she cried.

"It's going to do a lot more than just hurt if you don't keep quiet. We have to leave right now. I don't want to cause a scene."

"What is it with you and scenes?" asked Kristi.

"I just don't like them. Is that okay with you?" he asked.

"Okay, I get the picture. Did you find Julie?"

"No, I didn't get the chance to look. I glanced back over here and saw you talking to that Myers punk. What did he want with you, anyway?"

Kristi smiled. "Come on, sweetie. What would any guy want with me?" She put her arm around him and gave him a sexy kiss. "I can play games too, you know."

Gary started breathing heavy. "I think we need to get back home, right now," he muttered.

"What about Julie?" asked Kristi. "I really don't trust her."

"It'll be okay. She's worked for me a long time. I'm sure she's around here somewhere. Let's go find her."

"Can I just stay here and finish my drink I just ordered while you look? I'm really thirsty and it'll put me even more in the mood for later – if you know what I mean," she said, with a naughty little wink.

"Okay, you win," he said. "Just don't start talking to anybody. I'll come get you right after I find her."

The bartender approached Kristi with the drink. She gulped it down and ordered another one. The second one went down even faster than the first. As she lowered the glass from the third martini, she looked up and saw Nick walking by.

"Nick," she yelled.

"Kristi?" he asked, as he walked in front of the bar. "What are you doing here?"

"From the looks of it, I'm getting pretty sloshed," she said. "It looks like your black eye cleared up nicely."

"Yeah, thanks for saving me last week."

"I'm sorry for leaving you so quick, but I really didn't want to talk to that asshole that was waiting for you in front of your apartment."

"Oh, you mean Lieutenant Elderberry?"

"Yes, him. What was he doing there?"

"He had some strange idea that I killed Zipper Down. Now he thinks my father did it. He's a strange man."

"He sure is. I didn't think you even had a father, I mean..."

"It's okay. I know what you're getting at. I actually just met him this afternoon. Elderberry followed me to Chicago, then New Orleans, and then to Lafayette. I don't know where he got the idea that my father would be a murderer."

"What if I killed him?" asked Kristi.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Nick. "I mean – what would you think if I told you that I was the one?"

Nick was starting to get a little nervous. "Look, Kristi," he said, "I don't know what's going on here, but I think you're getting a little too drunk and don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you're right," said Bell. He had just walked up - empty-handed. "Just who do we have here?"

"I'm Nick Peltier. Are you with Kristi?"

"You could say that," said Bell.

"I think you need to take her home. She doesn't seem to be feeling okay."

"I'm going to do just that," said Bell. Nick watched as Bell grabbed Kristi and dragged her across the terminal.

"Where's Julie?" asked Kristi.

"I can't find her, and who in the hell was that bastard you were talking to?"

"He said his name. Weren't you listening?"

"I heard his name, Nick Peltier. I mean – who is he?"

"He told you – Nick Peltier."

"Listen here, bitch. Don't you start causing..."

"A scene? Is that what you were about to say? Well, just how predictable was that? Why don't you just leave me the hell alone."

As Nick noticed the situation, he felt an arm pull him aside next to a shoeshine booth. He glanced up and saw the gorgeous face of Julie Templeton.

"Julie?" asked the surprised Nick.

"Shhh, be quiet Nick," she whispered. She watched Bell dragging Kristi out of their sight. "I need your help."

Nick studied the flawless features of her face and suddenly remembered the encounter he had with her in New Orleans.

"Oh, wow. When I thought I saw Cheryl Anderson in that bar in New Orleans – that was you. No wonder you knew my name. How long has it been, what, about five years?"

"Nick, please shut up. We'll have time for small talk later. Benny's in big trouble and I need your help."

"What kind of trouble? No wait – let me guess. He went over budget on that video y'all made and Jamie wants him to come up with the difference out of his own pocket, right?"

"No, Nick. Gary Bell is going to kill him."

"Who's Gary Bell?"

"He was that big man you just saw when you were talking to Kristi."

"Wait a second. Isn't Gary Bell your agent?"

"He's more than that."

"So you finally settled down. That's nice."

"No, damn it – I didn't mean anything like that. He's more than just an agent. He overheard Kristi talking to Benny about what's going on. I'm sure Gary is going to kill him. I was trying so hard not to get him involved."

"I don't understand – involved in what?"

"Nick, remember that night in the strip club when we met?"

"How could I forget? That bouncer had me by the belt buckle with one hand. I don't even want to say where the other hand was."

"Well, you remember why he didn't toss you on the street?"

"Because you told him not to."

"And do you know why?"

"I thought it was because I gave you an extra hundred dollars for the table dance."

"No, goofy. It was because you were a truly sweet man. I saw all kinds of assholes and jerks in that place, but I could tell you were one of a kind. You talked me out of the stripping profession that night."

"That's only because the patrons weren't allowed to have sex with the strippers. I thought if you quit, I would be able to get you to sleep with me."

"Well, I did quit and we did sleep together, but it was just that - sleep."

"I never did like that part of the story," said Nick.

"I never got the chance to thank you. You gave me the number of a modeling agency and I called it. It ended up being the break I was waiting for. That number you gave me was for Bell and Associates Modeling Agency. That man you were talking to was Gary Bell."

"I knew that name sounded familiar. So that was the big man himself?"

"You never met him?" asked Julie.

"No, I just got his number out a phone book in L.A. and gave it out to strippers looking for a break."

Julie started laughing. "You are so funny."

"No, I'm dead serious. I never had any connections with Gary Bell other than sending him business by using that number."

"Now, that takes the cake," said Julie.

"I'm sorry, Julie. I was just being honest."

"Well, forget about all that. Remember when you said you would like to pay back the favor for me getting you out of being tossed out the club and you gave me your number?"

"Yeah, vaguely."

"Now's your chance. I need you to hide me out at your house for a while."

"It's an apartment," said Nick.

"It doesn't matter," said Julie. "I need a place to stay where Gary won't find me."

"Okay, no problem."

"I also need you to find Benny and let him know that Gary Bell will be looking for him. He needs to be warned."

"Okay. I'm sure I'll see him tomorrow at work."

"No, right now. He's in the airport security office right now. A guard just took him away."

"He gets into the strangest predicaments. Okay, we'll get him out and go to my apartment."

"No. He can't know that I know you."

"Why? I don't understand."

"Nick, Benny's been through hell with his last girlfriend..."

"Yeah, Kat."

"You know Kat?" asked a surprised Julie. Nick stalled for a few seconds.

"Let's just say I know of her and leave it at that."

"She's the reason I know so much about Benny. I told him it was because of what I read in the trade papers about him."

"How do you know Kat?" asked Nick.

"She's my cousin."

"Your what?"

"My cousin. In fact, she was supposed to call me at my hotel room to let me know how my Aunt Priscilla, that's her mother, was doing after her surgery today."

"I don't get it. What are you doing going after your cousin's boyfriend?"

"She was about to break up with him, anyway. Besides, it was the perfect opportunity to find out all I needed to know about him."

"Why did you need to know all about him?"

Julie looked around. She grabbed Nick's arm and led him into a secluded spot near a maintenance closet.

"Nick, this is going to freak you out, but I need to let you in on something."

Nick started to turn pale. "Are you Satan?" he meekly asked.

"No, of course not."

"Okay, then you can tell me anything."

"I needed to find out all about Benny so I could get the gig for the video shoot." She quickly poked her head out to make sure nobody followed her.

"I don't think you needed help for that," said Nick.

"Well, I needed to make sure Benny would be distracted. Kat told me he was a pretty sharp guy."

"Why would he need to be distracted?"

"So he wouldn't find out what was really going on at Apocalypse."

"What in the hell is going on over there?" asked Nick.

"You noticed how the Cramping Violets became popular so fast?"

"Yeah."

"Well, the death of Zipper Down sure helped that situation, don't you think?"

"Sure, it did – but what does all this have to do with you pulling a scam on Benny?"

"Please, don't call it that, Nick." Julie was ashamed.

"But isn't that what it is?"

"Hear me out. Zipper Down was murdered. It was timed to coincide with their album's release. It was supposed to get the attention of the public, making them want to buy the CD's, tapes, video, tee-shirts, you know – all that stuff that turns over a quick profit."

"It looks like it worked."

"It sure did. The company is finally going to turn over a huge profit. It was supposed to be part of a deal to be handed over to Wainwright and Grimes law firm."

"Jamie doesn't work for Wainwright and Grimes," said Nick.

"No, but they work for Carlos Verona."

"But Andie is working on a case for Carlos Verona. He's just a client."

"No, Nick. He's a lot more than that. Carlos has been using Wainwright and Grimes as a cover to take over every possible business in this city."

"This is terrible. Andie talked so highly of William Wainwright. I didn't think he was the type to be involved in anything like this."

"He wasn't, Nick. He wasn't even in Africa this past year."

"Where was he?"

"He's been living behind a dumpster near a 7-eleven."

"Oh, my God," said Nick. "That's the old man who knows everything about me. How do you know about all this."

"Because Gary Bell is trying to take over Verona Enterprises. He wanted me to make sure I kept Benny out of the way so he wouldn't screw anything up."

"So you used him. You used my best friend."

"Oh, that's the pot calling the kettle black," responded Julie.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Nick.

"Kat told me how you took her home the night of the party."

"But you just acted surprised when I told you I knew of Kat."

"I was just testing you. She told me all about that night – in detail."

"Oh, shit. Please don't tell Benny about that."

"Only if you'll help me out."

"Okay, you got a deal. What else do you know about this thing?"

"I know Peter Grimes is trying to two-time Verona. He has no intention of letting Carlos follow through with his plan. He was letting Carlos have fun by letting him see Wainwright go through hell – some kind of personal vendetta. All the while, Peter was doing dealings by using Wainwright's signature electronically. He had some guy in Africa fronting the whole scam. Everything that Carlos thinks he owns is owned by Wainwright and Grimes, except that Wainwright doesn't have a thing to do with it. Grimes expects to come away with everything. He let his buddy, Harold Rogers, believe he was going to take over the record company. That's why Rogers is playing along with all this."

"That son-of-a-bitch," said Nick. "That's why he's been going after Andie."

"Oh, I don't know anything about that. I just know he's in for a rude awakening if he thinks he's going to get Apocalypse."

"I still don't understand. Why do you need my help?"

"Nick, I really like Benny. He was supposed to be someone I distract for a while, but I really like him. I can't go through with this anymore."

"You know, he thinks your cousin is the one who killed Zipper Down."

"Oh, that's just great. He really needs to know differently."

"Well, I know for a fact she didn't do it. She was with me that night, but I'm definitely not going to tell him that."

"What are you two doing here?" asked the security guard who sneaked up on Nick and Julie.

"Uh, we're just trying to say good-bye in private," said Julie. "Do you mind?"

"I'm going to have to ask you to step away from the closet area. There's been a report of suspicious actions going on in the airport and we need to take all necessary precautions," said the thick-necked guard.

"That's just fine, sweetheart," Julie said to Nick. "You have a nice trip and I'll be waiting for you when you get back." Nick looked at Julie and gave the guard a quick glance.

He miraculously figured out what Julie was up to and said, "Okay, sweetheart. I'll see you when you get back."

"No, sweetheart, you're the one who's leaving. I'll see you when you get back."

"Uh, right," said Nick. He looked at the guard and walked away.

"Sweetheart, aren't you forgetting something?" yelled Julie. Nick gave Julie a confused look as she motioned him to come back. The guard watched them closely.

"What am I forgetting, sweetheart?" asked Nick.

"You forgot to give me the keys to our apartment," said Julie.

"Oh, yes," said Nick, trying to do his best impersonation of a husband. "The keys to our apartment. How could I forget?" He gave her the keys and started walking away again.

"Oh, sweetheart," Julie said.

Nick stopped, looked at the suspicious guard, and asked, "Yes, sweetheart?"

"Which apartment are these the keys to?"

"The apartment," said Nick. He faced the guard. "Women can be so forgetful sometimes."

"Do you mean the one on Rollins Boulevard or the other one?" asked Julie, as she gave Nick that you are an idiot look. Nick finally realized he didn't tell her where the apartment was.

"Oh, yeah, how stupid of me. It's the apartment on 1103 Maplewood – the one where you have to go up the stairs in the back and has the letter A on the front door."

"Thank you, sweetheart. You have a great trip."

Nick said to the guard, "It's hard to keep up with all the apartments we keep. My wife didn't want to give up her place when we got married and I definitely didn't want to give up mine."

"That's amazing," said the guard.

"What, that we have two apartments in the same city? Hey, it's not an uncommon thing. I'm sure lots of couples do it."

"No, I'm talking about the fact that the BreastMaster girl is married to an idiot like you," said the guard.

"What do you mean by BreastMaster girl?" asked Nick. He was more upset about not knowing what that meant than being called an idiot. The guard pointed to the TV mounted on the wall, which happened to have the commercial showing.

"Wow, that thing really works well," said the surprised Nick.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE: _Love Blender_

The crowd started to gather in the lounge area at El Muchacho. Chaz Reed began his first set of songs by playing a couple of Jimmy Buffet tunes. The crowd didn't respond. He followed up by turning out songs by James Taylor, Jim Croce, Elton John, and Garth Brooks. The patrons still didn't give more than a polite patter of wimpy applause.

"Okay, guys. I'm having a tough time getting you into the groove here. What do y'all want me to play?" he asked.

"Play Love Blender," said a young, cute blond, who was sitting at a table with four other attractive girls. They all clapped to the request. This was the type of request Chaz found hard to refuse. He did have the talent of being able to recreate a song on the acoustic guitar, even after only hearing it once. Now, he had to play the song he hated so much, but loved the audience requesting it.

"Okay, you win," said Chaz. "I'll give it a try." He started a ponderous strumming on his acoustic guitar, trying to somewhat recreate the thrashing sounds of The Cramping Violets.

"Your love has crushed my heart just like a - love blender.

I know that you're just faking it just like a pretender.

Chew me up and grind me, you know where you can find me.

Love Blender, I hate you!" he sang.

The crowd went wild. They started clapping and cheering much to Chaz's delight. It reminded him of the time when he was the leader of a band that almost made the big time, but fell just short before breaking up. The noise was even loud enough to wake Debbie, who was passed out at the end of the bar.

"Play it again," screamed the cute blond. The crowd responded with a resound cheer.

"I'll play it again a little later," said the smiling Chaz. "It looks like we woke up my new friend over there. Why don't we see what she'd like to hear? Hey Debbie, what song do you want me to play next?"

"Oh, no," Debbie muttered to herself. She turned her head, trying to ignore the request.

"Come on, Debbie," Chaz repeated into the microphone. "What do you want to hear?"

The audience responded by chanting, "Deb-bie, Deb-bie, Deb-bie..."

"Please, leave me alone," said the embarrassed Debbie.

"I'm afraid I don't know that one," said Chaz. "How 'bout I play Love Blender again?" The crowd went wild. Debbie ordered another drink in disgust.

"This is going to be a long night," she told Raul.

At the hospital, Tony was having a tough time locating Peter Grimes. He had been transferred to a secret room by order of Chief Bushman. Tony did see Carlos yelling at his wife, who was hugging Officer Gillis.

"Why are you embracing the wife of this bad man?" asked Tony.

"I'm sorry, Tony," said Officer Gillis. "I'm in the middle of a serious situation right now. I can't help you."

"Who is this man?" asked Carlos.

"My name is Antonio Satanelli. I am trying to help my friend, William Joseph Wainwright," Tony announced.

"What?" asked Carlos.

"That's right," said Tony. "I know all about you, Carlos. You are a disgrace to the Italian people. William told me all about your scam. Officer Gillis, I want you to arrest this man."

Officer Gillis was still holding Isabella, ignoring Tony's plea. Suddenly, Tony felt a hard, blunt thud on the back of his neck. The next thing he knew, he opened his eyes and found himself in Peter Grimes' room. He was in a chair next to the bed, being stared at by Dave Peltier and Chief Bushman.

"What do you know about Wainwright?" asked Bushman.

"Why are you trying to find Peter Grimes?" asked Dave Peltier.

"Why did you bring Satan into my room?" asked Peter Grimes.

Tony was dazed from the bump on the head, but started to focus. He looked at Bushman and Peltier.

"You two men are very bad," he said. "You have taken away the dignity of my good friend, Joseph. He has been living next to a dumpster behind the establishment where I am employed. I do not see how you can live with yourselves." He turned towards Peter. "And you, Peter Grimes. You have done something to make my little pepperoni to go astray. I will not let you get away with this."

"Listen here, spaghetti boy," said Dave. "You have gotten yourself involved in something you have no business in. We have to figure out what to do with you."

"So you think I can be intimidated by your threats? You are thoroughly mistaken," said Tony. He turned towards Peter.

"Why are you staring at me?" asked Peter.

"You think I'm the Prince of Darkness, don't you?" Tony asked.

"Why did you bring this man in here?" Peter asked Bushman and Peltier.

"You're scared, aren't you?" asked Tony.

"Sit down and keep quiet," said Bushman.

"Why should I listen to you?" asked Tony. "You should be afraid, yourself."

"Well, for one thing, I'm the Chief of Police. That's why you should be afraid of me – and why should I be afraid of you?"

"I know all about your little plan to betray Peter Grimes and your intention to double-cross your partner here." He pointed to Dave.

"I'm not his partner," said Dave. "And what do you mean by double-cross?"

"You should know," said Tony. "You are planning to do the same thing to Peter Grimes and this corrupt chief."

"I don't know what the hell you are talking about," said the agitated Dave.

"What's going on?" asked Peter.

"You should know, Peter," said Tony. "You don't have any plans to include these two gentlemen in the rewards you are about to reap."

"You're insane," screamed Peter. "Of course they're going to be compensated for the work they're doing. We're going to take over Verona Enterprises and they'll be my right-hand men." The pain-killing drugs were having a profound effect of Peter's discretion.

"Shut up, Grimes," said Dave. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure, I do," said Peter. "Hell, Satan here, of all people, should know what's going on with our plan. Are you two planning to deceive me?"

"All three of you are planning to deceive each other," said Tony. "And worst of all, you are planning to deceive the man who made this all possible – a man whose moral fibers are thinner than that of angel-hair pasta"

"You don't know what you're talking about," said Bushman.

"Of course I do," said Tony. He turned to the door and yelled, "Hey Carlos."

Carlos walked in, much to the surprise of Peter, Dave, and Bushman.

"What do we have here?" asked Carlos.

"How long have you been standing outside the door?" asked the surprised Dave.

"Long enough to hear Grimes announce that you all plan to take over Verona Enterprises," said the disappointed Carlos. "I thought I could trust you, Peter. I treated you like a brother. This is the thanks I get?"

"But I helped save your son's life by being a bad driver and getting my wife killed," said Peter. Dave and Bushman shook their heads.

"I am grateful to you for that, but I thought you had more morals than what you have"

"Now's not the time to be questioning morals," said Dave.

"Nobody is trying to put a scam on you, Mr. Verona," said Chief Bushman.

"I heard all of you saying those things. Do you think I'm some kind of idiot?" asked Carlos. He turned towards Tony. "Why did you call me a very bad man back there?"

"I know all about Wainwright," said Tony. "He is safely tucked away where nobody can find him. I know you probably want to kill me right now, but I do not care. I cannot find my precious fettuccine and my good friend is half-naked somewhere. I do not fear you."

"Hey, there's nothing to be afraid of," said Verona.

"Grimes here is the one who came up with the whole scheme to keep Wainwright drugged up and drunk this past year. I really didn't want to go along with it. I just went along with it as a favor to him for helping my business."

"Favor to me?" asked Peter. "I did it as a favor to you. You were the one who wanted to see him suffer for stealing your girlfriend."

"I just went along with it. I had nothing to do with it. You are my attorney and assured me that everything you were doing was legal," said Carlos.

"That's complete bullshit," said Peter. "You've been using my firm to do your dirty work this whole year."

"Your firm?" asked Dave. "What about the Wainwright matter. I'm the one who's been making the whole safari thing look legit. You owe me big time, Grimes."

"Well, I've been the one who's kept the entire police force off everybody's case here," said Bushman. "If it wasn't for me, everybody here would be behind bars."

"Including you, Chief," said Officer Gillis, who was holding a small tape recorder as she walked onto the room. She smiled at Tony. "Good work, my friend."

"I should be upset with you for stealing my wife," Carlos said to Gillis, "But I am actually grateful. You have helped me discover what kind of people I have been associated with."

"Glad to help," said Gillis. "Chief Bushman, I'm afraid I'm going to have to turn this tape in."

"Don't believe this mob monster here, Gillis," said Bushman. "He's the one behind everything."

"I'm sorry, sir," said Gillis.

Bushman pulled a gun out of his jacket. "Nobody move," he ordered. "Gillis, hand me that tape."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir."

"Gillis, give me that tape, now," he said, as he pointed the gun her way.

"No, sir. I can't."

"I'm going to count to three, then the tape better be in my hands. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, I understand – but you're not getting this tape."

"Bushman, you're not going to shoot one of your people right here in a hospital," said Dave. "That would be stupid, even for you."

"Quit calling me stupid," said Bushman, as he pointed the gun towards Dave.

"Well, you are pretty stupid," said Peter. "You can't even control your own people."

"Don't you call me stupid, either," said Bushman. He pointed the gun towards the bed-ridden Grimes.

"I have to agree with Grimes and this other guy," said Carlos. "You are pretty stupid."

"Stop it – all of you. I am not stupid. I am the Chief of Police of New Lake City. I am not stupid." He turned the gun back towards Gillis. "Now give me the goddamn tape."

"No, sir," said Gillis. "I can't do that."

Bushman was enraged. "Okay, I'm serious - one."

"You're not getting this tape," said Gillis.

"Two."

"You're still not going to get it."

"I mean it. I'm about to say three."

"Go ahead," said Gillis, with a smile. The room was tense with anticipation.

"Three," said Bushman, as he pulled the trigger. Everyone in the room ducked except Gillis. She laughed as she heard the click of the empty gun.

"That's really going to sound good on this tape," said Gillis. "Come on in, guys."

The door opened and three officers came in and handcuffed Bushman.

"It wasn't loaded?" Bushman asked in disbelief. "How did you know it wasn't loaded?"

"I'm the one who issued it to you," said Gillis. "It doesn't even work. You liked it so much; I never had the heart to tell you it wouldn't fire. It never was loaded."

"You really are stupid," said Dave.

"Laugh all you want," cried Bushman, as he was escorted out the room. "I'm taking everyone down with me."

"You're next," Gillis told Peter, as she followed the officers out the room.

"What did she mean by that?" asked Peter.

"Well, Pete. It looks like I better be going," said Dave. "I hope you feel better, soon." He left the room.

"Come back here, Peltier," hollered Peter. "We're not finished yet."

"I think you are, Grimes," said Carlos. "Wainwright is obviously around somewhere, telling people about the scheme." He turned to Tony. "Where do you fit into this, my brother?"

"Do not call me brother, you bad man," said Tony. "I am going to make sure you pay for all this. You do not frighten me." He stood up and walked out the room.

"Why are you letting him get away?" asked Peter.

"I'm not worried about him. He actually helped me out. After your two idiots bopped him on the head, Officer Gillis told me what that man told her. I was right outside the door, waiting for you to confess your plan. I still have the whole police force behind me. You're the one with the problem," said Carlos.

"What are you going to do? Kill me?"

"You know I don't do that sort of thing, Grimes. That's why I hired you people."

"So what do you plan to do with me?"

"I'll just get the same person you got to kill that drummer to kill you."

"We didn't hire anybody to kill that drummer. You can't get away with this, Carlos."

"Those are strong words from a man, lying in a bed with two broken legs. Who are you going to call – the police?"

"What about Officer Gillis? She seems to be on the side of the law."

"Grimes, she's screwing my wife. She's not going to do anything to hurt me. Besides, you don't have a leg to stand on." He started laughing. "You really don't have any legs to stand on. I couldn't have done a better job myself." Carlos left the room still laughing hysterically. He was met in Frank's room by a disturbing phone call.

Peter was frightened beyond belief. The only person he could call was Harold.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX: _Song Stuck in Your Head_

Harold met Andie as she was walking out of her apartment. She was stunning. She was wearing a turquoise sweater, which buttoned up the front. The top four buttons were undone, revealing an ample amount of cleavage. Judging from the tight knit pants she wore, it was obvious she was wearing either a thong or nothing at all underneath. Her hair was styled to perfection. It was bouncing on her shoulders as she moved her head from side to side – a seductive move that drove Harold nuts. He could tell she had spent plenty of time preparing for this date. He had no idea just how much.

"My God, you look marvelous," said Harold.

"Thank you," said Andie. She put her arms around him and gave him a tremendous kiss. Her hand slid down and playfully grabbed his butt.

"I wasn't expecting that kind of reception," said Harold.

"Oh, really?" asked Andie. "Just what kind of greeting were you expecting?"

"I thought you would be upset with me, especially the way I left you in New Orleans."

"Oh, don't be silly. I know it's because of business. You have all night to make it up to me."

Harold wondered if he had enough energy to pull off this date. After hearing Andie's request for Mexican food, Harold drove to Tostados, a Mexican restaurant near the Kensington building.

"Why are we coming here?" asked Andie.

"You said you wanted Mexican food."

"I told you that I wanted go to El Muchacho," said Andie.

"But we just ate there a few nights ago," Harold remarked.

"I really want to go to El Muchacho," said Andie. She reached over and started nibbling on his earlobe.

"Anything you say," said Harold.

Nick made a run by the security office after ditching the suspicious guard. Benny had been there earlier but was released after security realized he was no risk at all. Nick picked up his luggage at baggage pick-up and causally strolled to the main entrance. He had a gorgeous woman waiting at his apartment but he was in no hurry. He didn't want to end up in the same compromising position with Julie as he had with Kat. He hailed a cab and had the driver take the scenic route home. As they drove by the lake, Nick saw the portable sign lighting the parking lot at El Muchacho. It showed that Chaz Reed was performing his acoustic set that night. Nick had the cabby pull in. He sometimes sat in with Chaz for a few songs. Nick really missed performing. As he walked in, Chaz was playing Love Blender for the fourth time. The raucous crowd was dancing around the tables, singing the words like it was an old standard. Nick squeezed his way to the crowded bar, trying to order a drink.

"Hey, Raul," Nick shouted at the bartender, "Can you get me a cold one?

"When I get a chance, Nick," replied the frantic bartender. Sunday was usually a slow night so he was the only bartender on duty. People were strolling in like mad. The patrons were calling friends and relatives to the bar, telling them about Chaz playing Love Blender. Chaz finished the song as the crowd went wild. He didn't see Nick walk in.

"I'm going to slow it down a bit," said Chaz. "Anything else y'all would like to hear?"

"Love Blender," was the reply on most of their inebriated lips. Nick laughed at Chaz's predicament. He hated the song even more than Chaz. He finally got his drink from Raul when he looked up and noticed a sight that made his heart feel as if a train hit it. Andie was walking in, holding hands with Harold. Nick had never seen Andie looking so striking before. He kept hidden and observed the couple.

"It sure is a lot more crowded than the last time we were here," said Harold. "It seems like I hear that song everywhere I go."

"Chaz is a talented musician," said Andie. "There's not much he can't play." The waitress sat them at a reserved table near the crowded bar area. Andie ordered the nachos and a carafe of margarita.

"I'm going to bring him a request," said Andie. She wrote on the drink napkin what seemed to be a song title. Harold couldn't tell what it was. He watched Andie walk up to Chaz and whisper something in his ear. He nodded his head as if to acknowledge Andie's request. He looked in his hand and found a one hundred-dollar bill inside the napkin. She returned to their table and looked at her watch.

"Does he know the song you requested?" asked Harold.

"Yeah, he sure does. He said he'll play it in about fifteen minutes," said Andie. Nick watched the couple as they enjoyed the music. From what he could tell, they looked happy together. Nick knew that Harold was going after the record company but he wasn't sure what his intentions were with Andie. He wanted to go right to the table and confront Harold, but realized that would make him look like some kind of jerk. Maybe Andie really liked this guy and he didn't want to jeopardize his friendship with her. He watched as she leaned over and gave him a kiss, as she held the back of his neck. Nick couldn't stand it any longer. He gulped down the last drop of his drink and walked out the restaurant. He unknowingly passed right behind Debbie on his way out. She had her head on the bar, trying desperately to forget about everything that was happening.

Wilcox drove Wainwright up to his mansion. Wainwright hadn't been this close to his home in a year. He got out the car and walked up to the front door. He turned the knob, but it was locked.

"They probably changed the locks," said Wilcox. "I don't have any keys anyway," said Wainwright.

"Allow me," said Wilcox. He turned around and gave a kick with the bottom of his heel to the knob. The door opened with ease.

"I didn't realize it was so easy to break into this place," said Wainwright. "I really need to change this door."

As they entered the foyer, Wainwright was amazed how little was changed. His priceless Egyptian artifacts were lined on the eye-level shelf. The stuffed head of an African lion was visible as they turned the corner. It was proudly displayed over the mantle of the marble fireplace.

"Nice stuff you have here," said Wilcox.

"My pride and joy," said Wainwright. "I guess that's why it was so easy for Grimes to fool everybody. I made a lot of trips to these wild places, collecting paraphernalia from around the world. It's my hobby."

"I wouldn't exactly call that lion's head paraphernalia," said Wilcox. "Did you bag that yourself?"

"I sure did. It was about ten years ago. I was on one of my real safaris - not one of those made up ones I supposedly have been on for the last year. I was about twenty yards in front of this magnificent creature, when I pulled up my gun, squeezed the trigger, and heard a loud click. I had forgotten to reload the stupid thing. That monster lunged at me and I was lucky enough to dodge it the first time. It turned around and came right back at me. I quickly turned the rifle around and shoved the butt of the gun right between the bastard's eyes. I heard his skull crack and he went down just like that. I call him Peter."

"Because of Peter Grimes?"

"No, because of Peter Frampton. That lion fell down faster than Peter Frampton's career."

"That's amazing," said Wilcox.

"Actually, it's kind of sad."

"Why? Did you like Peter Frampton that much?"

"Oh, yeah, that's kind of sad, too, but it's because I can face a creature like this without blinking an eye, but I couldn't face myself after I turned back to the bottle."

"But that wasn't your fault," said the sympathetic Wilcox. "You were initially drugged. That's what kept you on the booze."

"Doesn't matter," said Wainwright. "It beat me once before and it beat me again."

"But you're beating it now."

"You don't have any idea how much I want to get a drink right now, son. I don't have any idea how I'm going to get control of my company back now."

"We'll come up with something," said Wilcox.

They both turned their heads as they heard the sound of a car door slamming.

"Somebody's here," said Wainwright. He and Wilcox hid behind the leather sofa as they watched Gary Bell enter the house.

"Who in the hell parked that piece of shit Dodge in front of my house and broke the freaking doorknob?" yelled Bell.

"Please don't use that kind of language," said Kristi.

"I'm sorry, baby," said Bell. "I just don't want to blow this thing. Somebody's in my house and I'm going to find them." He walked into the den where Wainwright and Wilcox were hiding. He saw footprints indented in the plush, bright-white colored carpet, leading to the back of the sofa. He pulled out his gun.

"Whoever you are, get your ass out from the back of the sofa," he said. When they heard Bell cock the gun, Wilcox and Wainwright came up. "Just who in the hell are you?" asked Bell.

"I'm William Joseph Wainwright, the owner of this house."

"You're Wainwright? I thought you were dead – at least that's what the newspapers said."

"Well, obviously, I'm not."

"Who's your friend?"

"He's Sergeant..."

"Sargantini Johnson," Wilcox quickly said. Wainwright looked at him with confusion. "I'm a friend of Wainwright here." He kept his hand in his pocket, next to his gun.

"What are you doing in my house?" asked Bell.

"Your house? I hate to break the news to you, Bell, but this is my house," said Wainwright.

"Sorry, old man, but it's legally my house. You signed it over to Peter Grimes last year."

"I never did such a thing. And even if I did, what would you be doing in Peter Grimes' house?"

Bell started laughing. "Because I own your law firm now."

"What?" Wainwright asked.

"Yeah. I acquired the part of Verona Enterprises that was the cover for buying your law firm."

"I don't understand. Grimes would never let go of that firm, especially after thinking I was out of the picture."

"Grimes didn't know about Verona taking over the firm. He thought Verona was just using it to cover up his illegal business. Verona worked it out to put the ownership of the firm into the entertainment division of his enterprise. He thought Grimes wouldn't be able to find out about it, being hidden away like that. Luckily enough, I found out about it."

"How did you find out?" asked Wainwright.

"I've been trying to get Verona for the last ten years. I just don't like the man. He's been a thorn in my family's side for as long as I can remember."

"What did he do to your family?" asked Wainwright.

"Well, my father was dating this girl in Chicago in the late fifties. He really loved that woman. Verona came along and stole her from him. My father married my mother a few years later, but he was always thinking about the one that got away. He made my mother miserable. They were always fighting about this woman. My father couldn't get her out of his mind. They ended up getting a divorce because of it."

"So you're out to destroy Verona because of a personal family vendetta?" asked the stunned Wainwright.

"I guess you could say that," said Bell.

"Son, have I got an amazing story for you," said Wainwright.

Chaz had just finished playing Love Blender for the sixth time.

"I really need to play this request," he said, as he looked at his watch. "This goes out to that couple sitting right over there." He pointed Andie and Harold out.

"You're going to love this song, baby," Andie told Harold.

"I haven't played this song since the early eighties," said Chaz, "so bear with me. It's a song by a man named Benny Mardones. He had this one hit then I never heard from him again. It's a really good song, though." He strummed his guitar softly, trying to remember the chord changes. Andie glanced at her watch and became a little nervous.

"Why do you keep looking at your watch?" asked Harold. "Are you in some kind hurry?"

"In a hurry to get you home to bed," she replied. "I just want to hear this song first."

Chaz was ready. "Okay, here we go."

He started playing the song. The slow ballad was a sharp contrast to Love Blender, but the opening words resonated loud and clear...

"She's just sixteen years old," sang Chaz.

"That's that pedophile song from the eighties," hollered a drunken patron, as Chaz continued singing.

"Oh, my God," yelled a young coed. "He's singing about banging a sixteen-year old."

"Play Love Blender," another patron screamed.

Andie was watching Harold's face as Chaz continued to sing the song. It was nearly as white as the sour cream on her nachos the waitress had just brought to their table.

"Isn't this a great song?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah – not bad," he muttered form his almost catatonic state. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Well, look who's here," said Andie, as she stared over Harold's shoulder.

Harold slowly turned around and was looking right into the chest of Carlos Verona. He inched his eyes up towards Carlos's.

"So, you've been screwing my precious niece," said Carlos.

"Consider yourself busted," said Andie, with a satisfied smile.

Harold didn't know what to do. That decision was made for him as he felt each arm grabbed by Carlos's two bodyguards – Jamie Dumbrowski and Frankie Deville. They quickly removed Harold from the restaurant. No one noticed since everyone was in the bar area listening to Chaz playing loudly over the crowd's disapproval and the Love Blender chanting. Carlos went back to Andie.

"I want to thank you for letting me know about this, Miss Jenson," he said, as he kissed her hand.

"It was my pleasure, Mr. Verona," said Andie.

"Please – call me Carlos."

"Okay – Carlos. And please – keep calling me Miss Jenson." Carlos acknowledged Andie's remark as he tipped his fedora to her. Andie continued drinking the margaritas, and enjoyed the rest of the song – at least what she could hear.

"Love-Blen-der, Love-Blen-der..." was the crowd's unrelenting chant.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN: _Hey Bartender_

Benny called for a cab as he discovered his rented Mercedes missing from the airport parking lot. He figured Wainwright made an attempt to drive off somewhere. As he rode along the busy interstate, he saw his car pulled off to the side. He told the driver to pull over, only to discover the car parked, unlocked, but with the keys missing. He had the driver bring him to Nick's apartment to get his spare key. He waved to Mrs. Ratzenburger through her front window as he walked to the back of her house. He walked up the back stairs and saw a light on through the closed blinds.

I guess Nick is back from his little trip, he thought. He turned to doorknob like he always did. Nick never locked his door. This time it was. Maybe he has a girl in there. He softly knocked. Julie heard the knock and peeked out the side window. Benny was out of view and there was no peephole on the door.

"Is that you, Nick?" asked Julie.

"Julie?" asked Benny, as he recognized her voice. She opened the door with the chain attached. Since she was washing her outfit, she took the liberty to wear one of Nick's robes.

"Benny – what are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." He saw the robe she was wearing and assumed the worst. "This is just great. First I see you kissing Gary Bell, now you're screwing around with my best friend. I just left you a few hours ago. Just what in the heck is this game you're playing with me?"

"Let me explain," said Julie.

"Don't bother," said Benny, as he turned around and hurried down the stairs.

Tony went to the spot where he'd last left Wainwright. I'm afraid my friend has tried to take care of this thing himself, thought Tony. He searched the area then went back to the street. He saw the towel Wainwright had been wearing earlier in the middle of the road. He is either going back to the dumpster or to his home. The only thing he saw was a cab. He stuck out his hand to wave it down.

"Do you mind if I pick up another fare?" asked the cab driver.

"As a matter of fact, I do," said Benny. "I just want to get home as quickly as possible."

"Okay, sir. It's your choice." The cab passed the waving Tony. Tony had a chance to glance inside the speeding cab and recognized Benny, who was staring ahead, still in shock over the sight of Julie in Nick's bathrobe. Tony waited for another cab to come along. He was determined to find Debbie and Wainwright; he wasn't sure who to go for first.

Nick was on his way home. He instructed the driver to bring him straight there, but changed his mind once he saw the Balls & Burgers sign.

"I'm going to have to end the ride, mister," said the cabbie. "It's a busy night and I have another fare to pick up."

"No problem," said Nick, as he paid the fare. "I can walk home from here." The cabbie took the money and went to pick up his next fare, Andie, who was leaving El Muchacho. Nick looked around, hoping to find somebody to drink with, but failed.

"Slow night?" he asked the new bartender, an older, gruff-looking gentleman – not the type that would usually frequent Balls & Burgers.

"Sure is," said the new guy, as he put the phone down on the bar without hanging up. He was wearing a Hawaiian print shirt, hanging over a well-defined beer belly.

"What's going on? It's usually busy here on Sunday nights," asked Nick.

"Everybody left and went across town to El Muchacho. Somebody there is playing that stupid Love Blender song – over and over."

"Yeah, I know. I was just there. Where's Marlena? She always works Sundays."

"I don't know, man. I just started working here last night." Nick looked closer at the man and noticed some kind of earpiece.

"I guess you listened to too much Beach Boys music as a kid," Nick joked.

"What do you mean?"

"Your hearing aid - I was just making a joke."

"It's not very funny."

"Sorry, man. I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't, and it's not a hearing aid."

"Well, what is it?"

"None of your business."

"You sure have a shitty attitude for being a bartender," said Nick. "I figured you had a lot of experience."

"What makes you say that?"

"You know – the cheesy shirt, the pot belly, all the things that come with an experienced bartender."

"Quit calling me that."

"What, a bartender?"

"Yes, quit calling me a bartender."

"That's what you are, aren't you?"

"Listen, punk. If you call me that one more time, I'm going to..." He stopped and put his finger on his earpiece. "I'm sorry, sir. What will you have?"

"Wait a second," said Nick. "You put you finger on your hearing aid and suddenly you have an attitude change?"

"Hey, I told you it's not a goddamn hearing aid," he said. He put his finger on it again and screamed. He pulled it from his ear and threw it on the floor. It bounced up and landed right next to Nick on the bar. "I don't need to be doing this freaking surveillance work. Thirty years with this dip-shit organization and I'm still staking out punks in bars." He stormed out the front door. Nick picked up the earpiece and heard Jamie's voice.

"Keep Nick there, Agent Martin, and act like a real bartender. Martin – are you listening to me? Slide the phone closer so I can hear the conversation," was what Nick heard, as he listened to Jamie's miniaturized voice through the earpiece.

He reached over and picked up the phone. "Agent Martin, I don't hear anything. Get Nick to say something."

"What would you like me to say?" Nick asked Jamie. He heard a loud click. Jamie was sitting in her apartment; still shaking from what she believed was a conversation with the Devil. She hadn't learned what to do in a situation like that at the FBI Cadet Academy. Agent Martin was stationed at Balls & Burgers. He was supposed to keep an eye on Nick's apartment. When the cab dropped Nick off, he phoned Jamie to let her know. Jamie wanted to listen to the conversation. She remembered Nick having some kind of fascination with the Devil at their lunch meeting. Now she was afraid she had blown her cover.

"Something really weird is going on here," Nick said. The bar was now completely empty. He looked at the unattended beer taps as a teen-age fantasy came to mind. He walked behind the bar, grabbed a pitcher, and started pouring. If he was going to figure out what was happening, at least he could do it with a free pitcher of his favorite draft. Once behind the bar, he noticed four small video screens – each with a view of his apartment. One had a view of his front door and another was positioned facing the street. Two other cameras showed the inside of his apartment. One was in his bedroom and the other showed a beautiful Julie Templeton sitting on his sofa – wearing his robe. He picked up the phone and dialed his apartment. He watched Julie as she jumped from the unexpected ringing of the phone. Instead of picking it up, she let the answering machine do its job.

"...Hi. You've called my number. It's obvious I'm not answering. If you don't know what to do next, you're an idiot and shouldn't be allowed to use the phone. Have a nice day."

The ensuing beep was heard, followed by Nick's live voice – "Julie, it's Nick. Pick up the phone," He said. He watched her pick it up.

"Nick?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Thank God its you. I don't feel comfortable here by myself."

"Well, you look pretty comfortable in my favorite robe. I wish I'd had the chance to wash it first."

"Oh, God. Benny told you already."

"Told me what?"

"That he saw me in your apartment, wearing your robe."

"I haven't seen Benny since last Tuesday."

"Well, how do you know I'm wearing your robe?"

"I'm watching you right now," said Nick.

Julie didn't believe him. "There's now way, Nick. The blinds are shut tight and you don't have any openings elsewhere in the apartment. I already checked."

"Okay, hold up your hand and raise some fingers. I'll tell you how many you have up." Jamie extended the middle one. "That's not very nice," said Nick. Why don't you try this – pick up that empty Budweiser can next to your left foot and put in of top on that Playboy magazine you have opened up to the layout of the three women together – right next to that box of Frosted Flakes you just opened."

"How did you do that?" asked the startled Jamie.

"Look on top on the TV screen. Do you see a Jimi Hendrix poster?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I think the camera must be hidden in there somewhere, at least that's what I think, judging from the angle I see you." She walked up to it and noticed one of Jimi's eyes was a little more glassed over than the other one. She put her finger on it and covered it up. "That's it," said Nick. "Find something to keep it covered and I'll help you find the other camera in the bedroom."

After he and Julie discovered the other camera hidden in a bedroom lamp, Nick left the bar. He walked back to his apartment and the robed Julie greeted him.

"Just why am I doing this?" asked Nick.

"Doing what?"

"Letting you hide out here."

"I don't want Gary to know where I am."

"Well, somebody knows where you are, judging from the cameras in here. Man, that is the weirdest thing. Why were monitors in Balls & Burgers tuned in to my place? Why was Jamie calling that bartender Agent Martin?"

"Nick, Jamie works for the FBI."

"Right," said Nick. "First she's a lesbian, now she's an FBI agent. That makes perfect sense."

"I'm serious, Nick," said Julie. "Jamie O'Malley is running a sting operation by using Apocalypse Records as a cover."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," said Nick. "Why would Jamie be posing as an FBI agent?"

"She's not posing; she really is one."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Nick, how did you discover the cameras?"

"I was at Balls & Burgers when the bartender got pissed-off and left. That's when I heard Jamie's voice over the little transmitter thing and..." He paused.

"Yes, keep going," said Julie.

"Why would her voice be coming over a little transmitter?"

"Because she's an FBI agent, you idiot."

"Why do you think she hung up the phone when she realized I had picked it up?"

"Because – she's – an – F – B –I – agent," said Julie.

"You know what? Maybe she is an FBI agent," said Nick. "That would explain the cameras and the transmitter."

"You think?" asked the frustrated Julie.

The cab driver drove in front of El Muchacho where Andie was sitting on a bench outside. She got into the cab and gave her instructions. That's when the cabbie realized Nick had left his luggage.

"Ma'am," said the cabby, " My last fare forgot his luggage in the trunk. He's on the way to your home from here. Would you mind if I make a quick stop to drop it off?"

"What do you mean by on the way? I don't want you taking me ten miles out of the way."

"Eleven-o-three Maplewood," said the driver. Andie recognized the address. She thought it would be nice to surprise Nick.

"Sure," she said. "I'll even help you bring it inside the apartment."

"This is all so freaky," said Nick. "I want to know what's going on here."

"Well," said Julie, "Jamie is running the sting operation to catch Carlos Verona in the action of murdering people for personal gain, but needs to put the Wainwright and Grimes firm connection with it to make it stick. Verona's been using the firm as his legal cover. He's also somewhat of a wimpy mobster. He can't hurt a fly. That's why he hired Grimes to work for him. Grimes has been using his thugs to knock off people for Verona. The police are in on it. Verona has them under his control."

"How do you know all this?" asked Nick.

"I work directly under Gary Bell. He's been waiting for the right moment to make his move to take over Verona's enterprise. Carlos is doing all the work for him – and he's not actually doing the work, Grimes is."

"So Bell had Zipper Down killed?"

"Not exactly," said Julie, "but he had a lot to do with it, I'm pretty sure."

Nick stared at his dining room table, which doubled as his bar. "I'm feeling pretty thirsty right now," he said. "Why don't you pour us a couple of stiff ones. I'm going to the bathroom. I haven't had a decent you-know-what since I left town. You can finish explaining this crap to me after I'm finished."

Julie poured the drinks as Nick went into the bathroom. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Julie knocked on the bathroom door.

"Nick, somebody's at the front door."

"Just ask who it is," Nick said from inside the bathroom.

Julie cautiously slithered to the front door and asked meekly, "Who is it?"

"It's the cab driver. Mr. Peltier left his luggage in my trunk."

Julie ran back to the bathroom door and said, "He said he's the cab driver, something about you leaving your luggage in the cab."

"Just open the damn door and get my luggage," said Nick. Julie slowly opened the door to the sight of the cab driver and Andie, who was holding one of the bags. Andie was shocked at the sight of Julie standing in Nick's apartment, wearing his robe. Julie grabbed the bags, thanked both of them, and quickly slammed the door.

"It looks like your friend is doing the BreastMaster girl," said the cabby.

"Oh, that's who she is," said the somewhat disappointed Andie.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT: _Great Balls of Fire_

Gary Bell found Wainwright's story rather amusing. Kristi didn't seem to find humor in the situation.

"Just how many men did this woman have?" she asked.

"Not any more than you do, sweetheart," said Bell, as he started drinking brandy from Wainwright's bar. "You don't think I love you for your monogamous tendencies, do you?" he laughed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Kristi.

"Oh, come on, baby. I know all about that musician you have living with you. I also know about the construction worker, the doctor, the congressman, and the dance instructor."

"Oh yeah? Well, I – okay, I admit it. I haven't been the best girlfriend."

Gary laughed. "It's all right, babe. I just want you for one thing, anyway."

"You are really starting to piss me off, Bell," said Kristi.

"Right," laughed Gary. "What are you going to do - kill me? I'm surprised you had it in you to kill that drummer."

Wilcox raised his eyebrows. He was itching to pull his gun from his pocket, but wanted to see what other information was being dropped in his lap.

"I don't like you telling people that," she said.

"Don't worry," said Bell. "Our two friends here aren't going to be repeating any of this."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Wainwright.

"Come on, Willie. You don't expect me to let you go after all this? I kind of like this house. When I get back from Argentina, I'm going to make this place my main home."

"Why are you going to Argentina?" asked Wilcox.

"It's just someplace far from here that I can hide until this mess blows over."

"I'm not going with you," said Kristi.

"Of course you are, sweetheart," said Bell. "After we get Julie, all three of us are going to Argentina."

"I'm not going."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I meant exactly what I said."

"Look, bitch, you're really starting to piss me off right now."

"I've had enough of you talking to me like that," said Kristi. She pulled a gun out from her purse.

"And just what do you think you're going to do with that?" asked a surprised Bell.

"I didn't kill Zipper Down," she said, as tears started rolling from her eyes. "I couldn't go through with it."

"It's all right, baby. These guys aren't going to be around to say anything. You don't have anything to cover up."

"No, I'm serious. I couldn't do it." She kept the gun pointed at Bell.

"Put the gun down, sweetheart," said Bell. Kristi put both hands on the gun and aimed it at his face. Gary raised his own gun and pointed it at her. "Don't do it, baby," said Bell. "I don't care if you killed him or not. He's dead. That's all that matters."

"You keep putting me down," cried Kristi. "The only thing I did right in your eyes was to keep you satisfied physically and kill Zipper Down – and I couldn't even do that right."

"I don't care," said Bell. "Just put the gun down."

"You're not mad because I didn't kill him?"

"Don't worry about it," he said. "If you didn't do it, somebody did it for you. Just give me the gun."

Kristi slowly handed Bell the gun. He clumsily grabbed it with his prosthetic hand and shoved her against Wainwright and Wilcox.

"You were right," said Bell. "You couldn't do the one task I needed you to do. You're pretty freaking useless."

"That's no way to talk to a lady," said Wainwright.

"Shut up, old man," said Bell. "You're making it easy to decide which one of you I'll kill first. Now I want all three of you to walk slowly into that closet over there and keep quiet. I need to figure out how to do it." Wainwright looked at Wilcox, who just nodded in the direction of the closet. All three of them crammed in.

"He might try to shoot us now," Wilcox whispered into Wainwright's ear. "On three, I'll shoot the handle off, swing the door open, and catch him by surprise."

"I've got a better idea," whispered Wainwright. He reached behind Kristi in the darkness and pulled a lever. The back wall of the closet opened up. He grabbed Kristi and Wilcox and led them out the back. They were in a secret passageway, which led to the back of the mansion. As soon as they got outside, they heard the gunfire. Bell opened the closet door, expecting to find three dead bodies. Instead, he found several overcoats with bullet holes in them. The next thing he heard was the sound of Wilcox's Dodge speeding away.

"You were right about him shooting us," said Wainwright, who was struggling to catch his breath.

"I don't know why you have that secret passage, but I'm glad you did," said Wilcox.

"I have ten of them. A man can't be too careful," said the proud Wainwright. "I definitely have to replace that front door, however."

With a sobbing Kristi still in the back seat, Wilcox pulled off to the side of the road. He maneuvered the car into some bushes near Deville Creek. He jumped out and hid behind a tree. He knew Bell would be right behind them. As soon as Bell's Jaguar got even with him, he shot out a front tire. The car sped out of control and went off the road. It hit the guardrail of a bridge crossing the creek, and flipped into the air. After the second flip, it hit a tree and reversed its rotation. It came down on the guardrail, burst into flames, and then slid into the creek. Wainwright and Wilcox walked to the bridge and watched the car burn. Kristi shuffled up behind them.

"You think he's dead?" she asked, between tears.

"I think that's a safe bet," said Wilcox.

"Are you a cop?"

"Yeah."

"I really didn't kill Zipper Down. I was supposed to but I really couldn't do it."

"Would you happen to have a clue as to who did?" asked Wilcox.

"I really don't," said Kristi. "You'll have my full cooperation – as long as I don't have to deal with that asshole."

"You must mean Elderberry," said Wilcox. "I'm sure we can use you. We can cut some kind of deal if you help us. Let me call in about this incident and we can go to the station."

"If you don't mind dropping me off at home, I'd really like to take a hot bath in my own tub," said Wainwright.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE: _The Hand Out_

An exhausted Gerome Elderberry got into a cab at New Lake International. He had the driver take him directly to the police station.

At El Muchacho, Chaz happily finished his set. He never wanted to hear Love Blender again. He went to the bar and found Debbie still there, barely awake.

"Let me take you home," said Chaz.

"Absolute Vodkaly not," stammered Debbie. "You might take the try to advantage me."

"You don't have to worry about that. I just want to make sure you get home okay." Chaz was a ladies man but was a gentleman first. He wanted to make sure Debbie made it home safely. Debbie, being way too drunk to argue with anything, reluctantly took Chaz up on his offer. Chaz half-carried her up to her apartment. When they got in, Debbie passed out completely. Tony had just walked up to the apartment after an unsuccessful attempt to find Wainwright. All he could see from her blind-covered window was the silhouette of a man holding Debbie.

"I have lost her to another man," he said to himself.

Andie was at home deciding what her next move would be with the Grimes situation. She called Debbie.

"Hello?" said Chaz, answering Debbie's phone

"Is this Debbie Bailey's residence?" asked Andie.

"I hope it is. This is where I just brought her."

"Is Debbie home?"

"She can't quite make it to the phone right now. Can I give her a message?"

"No, that's okay. I'll see her tomorrow at work," said Andie, as she hung up the phone. I guess she's getting over Tony, she thought. She picked up the phone again and dialed Benny's number.

"Hello?" said the lethargic Benny.

"Benny, hi, it's Andie."

"Oh, hi Andie. How's it going?"

"It could be better. I'm not in the best of moods right now."

"I know how you feel."

"I doubt it," said Andie.

"It's been an interesting week, don't you think?"

"To say the least. How have you been about this Kat thing?"

"She's the least of my troubles right now, Andie. I thought I found the perfect antidote to Kat. I fooled myself into thinking I was in love with Julie Templeton."

"The BreastMaster girl?" asked Andie.

"Yeah, I know that sounds a little far-fetched, but I really thought something really special was happening there. I found out she was just using me all along. First, I see her kissing her agent, then I find her at Nick's apartment, wearing his robe."

"You're kidding? I just saw the same thing a little while ago."

"You did? Wow, he sure must be proud of getting her. He has to show her to the world. You know, I really didn't have any claim to her. I just thought Nick had more morals than that – to go after a woman I was really interested in."

"Did Nick know you had something going on with this woman?"

"I don't know. He's supposedly been out of town all week. Jamie sent him on some assignment that she wouldn't tell me about. Now, I find Julie almost naked in his apartment."

"First Kat, now Julie," Andie thought out loud.

"What?" asked Benny. There was a long silence. Andie realized what she had just said.

"I mean, you just lost Kat, and you seemed to find someone to take your mind off of her..."

"No. I know what you just said. Is Nick the one who took Kat home the night of the party?" He wasn't going to fall for Andie's drawn-out explanations this time.

"Benny..."

"Come on, Andie. You're my friend. Tell me the truth. Is Nick the guy who left the party with Kat?"

"He had no idea who she was," said Andie.

"That son-of-a bitch. And you knew all along?"

"I'm sorry, Benny. He didn't want to hurt you."

"Well, it's too late for that. I'm going there right now." Andie heard the click of the phone. She immediately grabbed her keys and headed to Nick's apartment.

Wilcox reported the incident on his radio, and then dropped Wainwright off in front of the mansion, which was less than a half-mile away. A squad car was nearby and met up with him back at the scene of the crash. Kristi was still in tears.

"I can't believe he's dead," she cried.

"Just be thankful we got you out of that house when we did, or you would be in the same situation," said Wilcox.

"I never liked him, you know. I was just trying to advance my career."

"Well, if you cooperate, maybe you'll be able to write a book about it and make a few bucks," joked Wilcox.

"I just noticed how sexy you are," said Kristi, as she started rubbing on Wilcox's arm. She had a weakness for men who knew how to use a gun.

"It looks like you got a live one there," said Officer Phipps. They watched the blazing car as it rested upside down in the creek. They didn't notice the motionless body in the trees up above. Gary Bell had been thrown from the car as it flipped in the air. He was slowly regaining consciousness.

Carlos was in the back seat of his limo. He was disturbed by the thumping sound in the trunk.

"Hey, Frankie," he told the driver. "That Rogers guy in the trunk is making too much noise. Do something about it."

"Really?" said Frankie, with a smile. He looked at Dumbrowski, who was sitting next to him in the front.

"Yes, really," said a stern Carlos.

"I've been waiting for years for you to say something like that," said Frankie. "I feel like..."

"A professional businessman," interrupted Carlos. "I don't want any talk like we're involved in some kind of mob. I'm running a respectable business here. The man in the trunk just happened to be poking his pecker where it shouldn't have been. We're just going to take care of the situation."

"How come you don't get that law firm to do it like all the others?" asked Dumbrowski.

"That bastard in the trunk is one of them," screamed Carlos. "We're going to take care of this one ourselves. Nobody screws with my family."

Frankie pulled the car over to the side of a dark road. Dumbrowski got out on the passenger side and walked to the back of the car. After opening the trunk, he grabbed a tire tool and stared down at the helpless Harold – bound and gagged, eyes wide open in fear. Dumbrowski raised the tool and was about to whack Harold when he felt a hand grab his arm. He turned around and saw Carlos.

"Don't do it, Dumbrowski," said Carlos.

"But boss, I thought you wanted to do him in."

"I do, but not this way. I don't want no blood in this trunk. I can put up with his thumping around for a few more miles. Let's just dump him face down in the creek up the road. It'll give him time to think about what he did to my precious Gina."

Carlos glared at Harold, flicked a few ashes from his cigar on Harold's face, and slammed the trunk down. His days of not hurting a fly were over. When Frankie drove the limo close to the creek, he noticed the flashing lights of Officer Phipps's patrol car. He also noticed the glow from the flames rising from Bell's annihilated Jaguar.

"I think we got a little problem, boss," said Frankie.

Carlos never knew that fearless Frankie Deville did have one major issue. Because of his last name, he lived in constant fear that the one-handed ghost of John Ratzenburger was out to get him. The speech John Ratzenburger made near the headless body of Bartholomew Rollins was part of the New Lake City History course, taught at Rollins University. This was the only course Dumbrowski could pass without help. He made sure to give Frankie a hard time about it.

"Just keep going," said Carlos. "We'll find some other place to dump the poor bastard."

Gary Bell managed to turn his head and witnessed his car in flames. The pain was excruciating, but he kept quiet. He noticed that he lost his prosthetic hand during the crash. He could see Wilcox, Kristi, and Officer Phipps directly below him. He struggled to find a position in the branches, but his numerous broken bones made that impossible. Wilcox noticed Carlos' limo approaching. Frankie slowed the car down.

"Don't make us look so obvious," said Carlos. "Just drive through like it's nothing."

With that advice, Frankie floored the gas pedal. As they were about even with the patrol car, Bell tried to grab a branch and fell out of the tree – right on the windshield of the speeding limo.

"What the hell!" cried Frankie. "It's Ratzenburger's one-handed ghost!"

He slammed on the brakes but lost control. The car started spinning aimlessly. It narrowly missed the oncoming charbroiled Yugo driven by Benny, who was somewhat speeding his way to Nick's apartment. The limo came to a halt as it crashed into a propane storage tank - which belonged to the abandoned Ratzenburger store – causing the trunk to pop open.

Wilcox and Phipps rushed to the car. As they got closer, they noticed a tied-up body moving in the opened trunk. Carlos was trying to get out of the car, with his lit cigar still in his mouth. Wilcox instantly recognized the distinct smell of propane.

"I don't like the looks of this one," said Wilcox. He and Phipps ran for cover, seconds before the explosion lit up the evening sky.

Benny looked in his rearview and saw the explosion. It added to the glow that Bell's car was already creating. He didn't care. His anger was focused on Nick.

CHAPTER SIXTY: _The Rolls Royce_

Debbie opened her eyes after a few minutes of rest to reveal a semi-dark, spinning room. She felt an arm caressing her stomach. She slowly turned her head and saw Chaz.

"What in the hell are you doing in my bed?" she screamed.

"I'm sorry. You were too drunk to drive home so I brought you here myself," said the apologetic Chaz.

"So you took the liberty of climbing in bed with me?"

"It's no big deal. Look at us. All of our clothes are still on. I was just too exhausted to drive home so I decided to catch a few Z's here."

"Get your ass out of my home," screamed Debbie.

"So much for gratitude," said Chaz. Debbie stumbled as she tried to go to her bathroom. Chaz picked her off the floor.

"Are you still here?" asked Debbie. "What the hell time is it?"

"It's just after ten o'clock," said Chaz. "You don't look so good."

"Well, for your information, I don't feel so good either. It's all Tony's fault."

"Who's Tony?"

"My asshole ex-boyfriend. Why is he doing this to me?"

"What's he doing?"

"He's driving me crazy. I'm going to his house right now and let him know. I can't stand this anymore." She staggered to her front door.

"You're not going anywhere, Debbie." Chaz grabbed her arm.

"What do you think you're doing?" She pulled away from the grip and slapped Chaz in the face.

"I'm not going to let you drive anywhere in your condition," Chaz said, as he rubbed the handprint Debbie just left on his cheek.

"Okay, you drive me."

"Where?"

"To Tony's house. I'll show you the way."

"I don't know if I want to get involved in that kind of mess and you're kind of crazy," said Chaz

"You already are and I probably am. Let's go."

Against his better judgment, Chaz led Debbie to his car and drove her to Tony's apartment.

Jamie was searching her own apartment for the source of the mysterious voice she thought she heard. She was getting dressed to go to Nick's apartment. She had to explain to him what was going on since her undercover work was now in jeopardy.

Dave Peltier was driving to Wainwright's mansion. If his calculations were correct, he would soon be the proud owner of the gorgeous estate. He wanted to get a good look at it.

As fire trucks arrived at the scene of the fires, Wilcox and Officer Phipps surveyed the scene. First, they found the charred bodies of Carlos Verona, Harold Rogers, Frankie Deville, and Jamie Dumbrowski. Then, they made their way down the creek to the smoldering Jaguar. There was no body pinned underneath.

"I wonder what happened to Bell?" asked Wilcox. They climbed out the creek and walked towards the road. About fifty feet away from them, across the street in the bushes, was Gary Bell. He reached in his pocket with his arm – one of the few parts of his body that he could move – and pulled out a gun.

Dave was racing through the site as Bell pulled the trigger – expecting to shoot either Wilcox or Phipps. The bullet hit the front driver's side tire and blew it out. Dave lost control as the car hit the bridge and flipped over on top of Bell's Jaguar in the creek.

The bewildered Wilcox ran down to discover Dave Peltier's smashed body. The pulling of the trigger was also Bell's last gasp. Phipps had followed the noise of the gun, found Gary Bell, and kicked the gun out of his lifeless hand.

"I got a dead shooter here," screamed Phipps.

"This one isn't any better," Wilcox yelled from the bottom of the creek. He reached into Dave's coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. His foot got wedged between a rock and a tree root.

"Hey, Phipps. Can you lend me a hand? I'm stuck." Phipps made his way down to help Wilcox out of his jam. Just as they got the foot free, they looked up at the bridge and saw a tall, feminine silhouette, standing next to a Rolls Royce. She seemed to be staring at them. As they climbed out of the creek, the figure jumped into the car and it sped away.

Wilcox yelled at one of the firemen, "Did you just see that Rolls Royce drive away?"

"Sorry, I'm too busy trying to put out this blaze to be searching for exotic luxury cars," the fireman blurted out.

"Smart-ass," said Wilcox, under his breath.

"Is this city always this crazy?" asked Phipps. Wilcox looked into Carlos' limo, and then glanced in the creek at the Jaguar with the Volvo on top. He looked at Bell's body. He wondered about the shadowy figure he just saw.

"Not usually," muttered Wilcox.

Kristi walked up to Bell's body and pulled an envelope from his jacket. She handed it to Wilcox.

"You might want this," she said. "It's the deed to the mansion and papers giving him fifty-one percent ownership of Verona Enterprises."

"You knew about all this?" asked Wilcox. Kristi smiled, grabbed his arm, and gave him a little kiss on the cheek.

"Let's talk about that book. Maybe you and I can add another chapter," she said, in the most seductive way.

Wilcox smiled as he glanced at Phipps. "Like I said, it looks like you got a live one there," said Officer Phipps.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE: _Camera One, Camera Two_

Nick was sitting on the couch next to Julie. They heard Tony's door open and close.

"I guess Son of Satan is home," said Nick.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Julie.

"Oh, it's nothing I want to get into." He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.

"It's been a really rough week. Do you mind if we just veg out and watch the tube? I'm really tired of talking."

"No complaints here," said the agreeable Julie. Nick turned the channel to ESPN and fell asleep after a couple of minutes. Julie took the remote out of his hand and changed the channel to MTV. She was just in time to see a close-up of herself as the video for _Love Blender_ was showing.

Benny stopped his Yugo right in front of Nick's apartment. He opened the door and it fell off the hinges. The springs in the seat grabbed hold of his pants and ripped them as he got out of the burned up bomb of a car. Not caring about the hole in his pants, he fiercely walked up the driveway, ready to confront his so-called best friend. He was near the side of the house and was going to the back stairs when Mrs. Ratzenburger came out the side door.

"Is that you, Barney?" she asked. She was squinting through her thick glasses. Benny immediately calmed down.

"No, Ma'am, its Benny," he said.

"I'm sorry. That's what I thought I said. Are you going to visit Nicholas?"

"Yes, ma'am. You could say that."

"Would you be a dear and ask him if he wouldn't mind picking up my prescription tomorrow morning at the drugstore? My arthritis is acting up and he always helps me out. He is such a sweet boy."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll tell him."

"Thank you so much, Bunny," she said. She went back inside her house.

Benny's temper had subsided and had turned to shame. He couldn't bear to see the sight of Nick and Julie together so he walked back to his car and drove away. He passed in front of Balls & Burgers and decided to stop for a drink. He parked right in front and that there were no other cars but the front door was open. He walked in.

"Anybody here?" he asked. He searched around but found no one. He noticed a small glow coming from behind the bar. When he walked around, he discovered the four monitors focused on Nick's apartment. The towel that was covering the Jimi Hendrix poster had fallen off. Benny could see the black and white image of Julie sitting on the couch watching TV. Nick was fast asleep on the other end.

"What is this doing here?" he said to himself. "And what is Nick doing sleeping when he has the most beautiful girl in the world sitting next to him on his couch – wearing his robe?"

"Maybe he has more morals than you give him credit for," said Jamie. Benny was startled.

"What are you doing here?" asked Benny.

"I was on my way to Nick's apartment when I noticed your infamous flame-broiled auto. I guess you're wondering why you see a bunch of monitors here showing Nick's apartment."

"I guess you can say it caught my interest," said Benny.

"Well, while you're back there, you might as well grab a beer and sit down for this one. Get me one while you're at it."

Benny grabbed two beers, pulled out his wallet, and left a ten-dollar bill next to the register. He walked over to Jamie.

"I'm not who you think I am," said Jamie.

"You're not Jamie O'Malley?"

"No – that, I am. I guess I should say I'm not what you think I am."

"I don't get it."

"I wasn't sent here to take over your record company. I work for the FBI."

"What?" Benny asked.

"We've been working on a sting operation for months involving Wainwright and Grimes, Carlos Verona, and Gary Bell."

"Gary Bell? Isn't he the talent agent from LA?"

"Same guy. He's been working behind the scenes trying to get hold of Verona enterprises. Carlos has been trying to get hold of Wainwright and Grimes to hide his illegal portion of his business. Peter Grimes had been trying to double-cross Verona and take over his business. The chief of police has been working for both of them, trying to manipulate a piece of the pie for himself."

"I don't get it. What does Nick have to do with this? Why do you have cameras pointed at him?"

"Nick was in danger. His uncle was in on the scheme and his life might have been threatened. I had a special agent keep watch on his apartment while I sent Nick away. I guess that agent no longer works for us."

"Wouldn't Nick have been in danger no matter where he went? I mean, if somebody wanted him out of the picture, they could have had him followed."

"We had agents following him everywhere he went. I needed him to leave town and be followed by Lieutenant Elderberry."

"That local homicide detective?"

"He just happens to be the best in the business. I sent him on a wild goose chase and he took the bait. He's been following Nick all week."

"Why would you want him following Nick –and what was he doing in New Orleans?"

"Because Nick was also in New Orleans and he could have blown this whole operation. He would have solved the Zipper Down case in no time, destroying our chances to convict Grimes, Verona, Bell, and Chief Bushman."

"He knows who killed Zipper Down?"

"No, but I'm sure he would have figured it out in no time. Things were working out perfect with the murder. You got Julie involved, making it seem as though Apocalypse was capitalizing on Zipper's death."

"But we were."

"I know, but it made all our targets confused and they ended up turning on each other."

"What about Wainwright?"

"Yeah, I heard about your experience with him. He's been helping us out. He'll be back in control of the firm in a few weeks. We're going to put him back in detox and sober him up. We have people at his house right now making sure he doesn't start drinking again. He'll be well rewarded for helping us out."

"What about Mr. Levon?"

"He'll be back in a few weeks. We sent him to Jamaica with Ursela Vanderhousen for a little vacation."

"He was in on it?"

"Yes. He should be an actor."

"Ursula Vanderhousen? That sounds familiar."

"She works directly for Peter Grimes. She's been helping us out with all the inside information we need."

"Does Nick know what's going on?"

"Ben, does Nick ever know what's going on?"

"I guess you're right," said Benny, as they shared a chuckle.

"My guess is that he's helping Julie hide out from Gary Bell."

"Why would she be hiding out from him?"

"That's her agent, Benny. I thought you already knew that."

"Oh, my God. I'm the one who convinced her to do the job for free."

"And your life was in danger because of it."

"What? My life was in danger? You were going to let me be a pawn in your little sting operation?"

"Settle down, Ben. Julie is the one who saved you. She was going along with Bell to save you. We had agents at the hotel and airport observing the whole thing. I think she genuinely likes you."

Benny's eyes lit up. "You think so?"

"Why else would she risk her life for you?" Benny ran back behind the bar. He saw Julie falling asleep. Nick had fallen off the couch and was sleeping on the floor. He looked up and saw Andie's Camry speed by - obviously going to Nick's apartment.

"Can we go there now?" Benny asked Jamie.

"I guess it's time to let him in on what's going on," said Jamie. "Let's finish these beers first. Nick could use a few more minutes of rest."

Benny pulled up a chair and asked, "By the way – who did kill Zipper Down?"

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO: _Flat-line_

Peter was resting comfortably in his hospital bed. The soft glow from the monitors, keeping track of his vitals, was a soothing sight. The morphine made him feel relaxed – almost in a euphoric state. He started mumbling to himself.

"So Harold won't answer my call. That's about right. It seems like everyone is trying to screw up this plan. I don't care. Screw him. Carlos wants to kill me. I don't care. Screw him. My dear wife is dead. I don't care. Screw her. Jenson thinks she's going to ruin my plan. I don't care. Screw her. I don't need anybody. I'm going to own this piss-ant town. Screw everybody."

"That would be hard to do in your condition," said a voice.

"Who's there?" asked a surprised Peter. He glanced to the side and noticed a silhouette of a woman. The outside light from the window provided the eerie shadow.

"Who do you want me to be?" asked the woman.

"Why can't I see you?"

"Because it is dark."

"Well, turn on the goddamn light."

"You do not need to use that tone with me. It will only make you upset and exacerbate your condition."

"I don't think my condition can get any worse." He reached over to buzz the nurse.

"You shouldn't make such sudden movements. Something terrible could happen to you."

"Look, I don't know who you are or what you're doing here."

"I am here to make sure your plan does not follow through."

"How do you know about my plan?" Peter started squirming.

"I heard you talking about it as I was standing here."

"Well, you don't even know what it is."

"Let's see – You have been hiding the fact that William Joseph Wainwright has been kept incapacitated for a year while you ruin his name and take over the firm he started with you. You've been using Carlos Verona, making him believe that he would basically own this, what did you call it, piss-ant of a town. You convinced the chief of police that he would get his share of the action if he would cooperate with your dealings. You promised Apocalypse Records to Harold Rogers as payment for working on this plan with you. You have been using Dave Peltier to keep the Wainwright secret from everybody, not realizing he would try to screw you over, the way everybody else planned to do."

"Nurse," screamed Peter.

"I guess you knew about Gary Bell, didn't you?"

"Nurse."

"He was waiting in the wings the whole time, waiting until the time was right to take over everything you've been working so hard for."

"Nurse."

"Well, at least you don't have to worry about Carlos Verona, Harold Rogers, Gary Bell, or Dave Peltier. They're all dead."

Peter was stunned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't you even feel the slightest remorse for the loss of your lovely wife, Francine?"

Peter was about to open his mouth.

"Don't bother telling me. I should not upset you anymore. You won't even have to worry about Andie Jenson and Chief Bushman ruining your little plan. You are not going to live long enough to even see it through. Good-bye, Peter Grimes."

Peter watched the shadowy figure leave the room. He tried to scream for the nurse again. As he raised himself in his bed, a blood clot lying near one of his crushed legs dislodged. It traveled to his heart, stopping it instantly. A nurse came through the door and saw the flat-line on the monitor.

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE: _Hospitable Nick_

Andie parked her car in the driveway. After passing by Balls & Burgers, she knew she had beat Benny to Nick's apartment. She walked up the stairs and reluctantly knocked on the door. The noise startled Julie.

"Nick, wake up," she said as she leaned over to shake him.

"Not now, Andie, I'm trying to get some sleep," he said, in a groggy whisper.

"Who?" asked Julie. Nick opened his eyes and saw the gorgeous Julie bending over him. He was still in a dreamlike state.

"Andie, you look like the BreastMaster girl."

"Nick, get up. There's somebody at the door."

Nick came to his senses and realized what was going on. He slowly got up and shuffled to the door. He opened it to the sight of a nervous Andie.

"Andie, I was just thinking about you," said Nick.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Nick. Am I interrupting something?"

"No, not at all. Come on in." Andie stepped into the apartment, which was amazingly clean.

"Would this be your new maid?" asked Andie.

"No, this is Julie. You don't recognize her? She's the BreastMaster girl."

"Yes, Nick. I recognize her." She extended her hand to Julie. "I'm Andie Jenson. Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," said Julie.

"How's Benny?" asked Andie.

"What do you know about Benny?" asked the surprised Julie.

"I know that he seems to be falling for you, but you're here screwing Nick."

"Hold on one second, Andie," Nick interrupted. "There is nothing going on between Julie and me."

"You expect me to believe you can be alone in your apartment with a beautiful woman and not be doing anything with her?"

"Hey, I do it with you all the time," said Nick.

Andie was dumbstruck.

"Don't worry, Andie," said Julie. "Nick is just helping me out by letting me stay here. I am definitely not screwing him, as you so graciously put it. I know Benny is a dear friend of yours. I think he's a terrific guy. I'm not going to do anything to hurt him."

"Well, that's nice to know, but that's not what he thinks," said Andie.

"How's it with you and that Hal guy?" asked Nick.

"You mean Harold?"

"Whatever."

"That relationship never got off the ground," said Andie.

Nick's eyes revealed a slight twinkle.

"Can I get you something to drink?" asked Julie. "I cleaned up the place and actually found some things that were consumable."

"That's quite an accomplishment," said Andie. "I'll take a glass of wine, preferably something older than last month."

"Believe me, most everything in this place is way over a month old," added Julie. "I had to take a shower and throw my clothes in the washer after cleaning this place. I hope there's nothing in this robe that bites."

"Come on, girls. I'm not that bad," said Nick. Andie chuckled and turned to Julie.

"How did you come to know Nick?"

"Well, it's quite a long story, but..."

A knock interrupted the conversation. Nick strolled to the door, opened it, and saw Tony.

"Hello, my friend, Nicholas," said the dejected looking Tony. "May I come in? I need a friend to converse with."

"I guess so," said Nick.

"Hello, Tony," Andie said, in the coolest of manners.

"Andrea. It is so good to see you. How is my Deborah?"

"I haven't seen her in a few days, but I'm sure she'll be okay – considering." She gave Tony a nasty scowl.

"What matter is there to consider?" asked a confused Tony.

"You know," Andie said.

"No, I do not – and what is this beautiful BreastMaster lady doing in this apartment?" Julie smiled and extended her hand to Tony.

"Hi, I'm Julie Templeton."

"You are almost as exquisite as my precious Deborah," he said, as he gently kissed her hand.

"Cut the crap about Debbie," said Andie. "How could you do this to her?"

"I am just innocently kissing the hand of this lovely women."

"Not this. I'm talking about Kat."

"Who is Kat?" asked Tony.

"What about Kat?" asked Julie.

"You know Kat?" Andie asked Julie. Another knock was heard at the door.

Nick walked over to open it and discovered Benny and Jamie.

"Oh, great," said Nick, as he stared at Jamie. "What are you two doing here?"

"That's not much of a friendly welcome, Nick," Jamie answered.

"You're not exactly high on the list of people I want to see right now."

"Hello, Nick," said Benny.

"Hey, Benny. I guess you're probably wondering why Julie is here." Nick wanted to get the explanation out of the way.

Benny looked into Julie's eyes. He approached her with caution.

"Gary Bell? Nick? Am I just another pawn in some kind of game?" Benny asked Julie.

Julie started to cry. "Benny, I have so much to tell you."

"What about this Kat person?" asked Tony.

"What about Kat?" asked Benny.

"Didn't you say that you thought Kat was Zipper Down's killer?" asked Jamie.

"I just thought she left the party that night with him – by the way, Nick, you keep that thought." said Benny. He turned to Julie. "What is it you have to tell me?"

"This is getting ridiculous," said Nick. He turned to go to his kitchen when he heard another knock at the door.

"Ah, man." He shuffled over and opened it.

"Party time, dude," said Pizza Guy. "Me and the guys wanted you to come out with us tonight before we start our tour tomorrow." He entered the apartment followed by Dylan, Wesley, and Dustin – The Cramping Violets.

"Look, guys, its Julie," said the drooling Dylan. They started flocking around her, crowding Benny in the process.

"Did you bring more of those pizza pies?" Tony asked Pizza Guy.

"I don't do that gig anymore, dude. This band kicks ass. We're starting our tour tomorrow."

"I believe you already said that," said Benny, as he moved Pizza Guy away from Julie's side.

"No need to be passing violence, dude," said Pizza Guy. "I know she's your honey. I'm just trying to enjoy the view." He was staring at the open robe Julie was wearing.

"Settle down, guys," said Julie, as she crossed the open ends of the robe across the front of her body. "I need to talk to Benny – alone."

She grabbed Benny's hand and led him into the bedroom. Another knock was heard at the door.

"Never a dull moment here," Nick told Jamie and Andie, as he went to the door.

Chaz, who was holding up a swaying Debbie, met him.

"Nick? I didn't know you lived here," said Chaz. "I was just bringing Debbie over to Tony's place. Maybe I got the wrong door."

"My meatball," cried Tony. He ran to the door as Debbie glared at him.

"What kind of shit are you pulling on me?" asked Debbie.

"I do not understand," said Tony. "Who is this man you are in the arms of?"

"He's my – who the hell are you, anyway?"

"I'm Chaz. Don't you remember?"

"He is the man I saw you in a warm embrace with at your apartment earlier this evening," said Tony.

"What were you doing at my apartment?"

"I needed to see you."

"Well here I am – and you know what? I needed to see you, too."

"Really?" Tony's eyes lit up.

"Yes – to tell you I never want to see you ever again." She turned to Chaz. "You can home me take now."

"I'm sorry, Debbie. You're on your own here," said Chaz, as he turned around and left.

"Are you okay, Debbie?" asked Andie.

"I'm fine. And as for you – I hope you're enjoying my ex-boss."

"What do you mean by ex-boss?" asked Andie.

"He fired me last week – and he's been screwing some little teeny-bopper. I wanted to tell you but I've been – oh, crap. I don't know what the hell I've been."

"Why don't you come sit over here?" asked Andie, leading her to the sofa.

"Just keep that asshole away from me," she said, as she viciously pointed her finer at Tony.

"Why is she so angry with me?" Tony asked Nick.

"Man, she saw you driving around with Kat last week – right in front of her."

"I do not know this Kat person you are talking about."

"Quit denying it, Tony," said Andie. "We saw you in the passenger seat of Benny's Lexus last week. You passed right in front of the little French bistro, right across from the 7-Eleven where you work."

"I was riding with Mary Kathryn. I do not know this Kat." Benny heard the Kat conversation. He came running out the bedroom and jumped right in front of Tony.

"Mary Kathryn is Kat's real name," said the angry Benny.

"Oh, my," said Tony. "If this is true, then I have been mistaken. I do know this Kat person."

Debbie got up from the sofa and shoved Benny out the way.

"Okay, spaghetti boy," blurted Debbie. "Just what in the hell were you doing with Benny's girlfriend?"

"I did not know she was Benny's girlfriend." He turned to Benny.

"Wait a moment. Is this the same woman who was having a sexual relationship with someone else while you were still her boyfriend?"

"Yes," said Benny. "I do not blame you for being upset. She is quite a beautiful young lady."

Julie pulled Benny away as he lunged towards Tony. Debbie reclaimed her place in front of Tony's face.

"Just answer the fucking question!" screamed Debbie.

"Oh, my. I have never heard you use the F word before, Deborah," said a stunned Tony.

"Oh, yeah? It's probably because I've never been this pissed-off at anybody before. Now, just answer the question. What were you doing with Kat?" Tears of anger flowed down her face.

"My linguine. Mary Kathryn is my friend at the University. We attend art class together. She has been helping me design and search for the perfect one."

"One what?"

Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a small case. He got on one knee and handed it to Debbie. Debbie's hands were shaking as she slowly opened the case, revealing a three-carat, heart-shaped diamond.

"Deborah Bailey, would you give me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Debbie was speechless.

"Say yes!" screamed Andie.

"Look at that rock," said Benny.

"Come on, Debbie, tell him something," said Julie.

"How much did you pay for that?" asked Nick.

"For God's sake, tell him yes," said Jamie.

"No wonder he could never afford to tip me. That dude must have spent a fortune on that bad-ass stone," said Pizza Guy.

Tony stared into Debbie's eyes, waiting patiently for an answer. She was still crying but now her tears were for a different reason.

"Yes," Debbie murmured through her tears.

The sound of applause and cheering muffled the knock at the front door. As it opened, nobody saw Kat walking in.

"Is there a party going on?" said Kat. The jovial sound turned into dead silence.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR: _Kat Nipped_

Nick fought his way through the crowd and tried to shove Kat back outside.

"What are you doing here?" asked Benny.

"Will you leave me alone?" Kat asked Nick, pulling his hand off her sweater. "Benny, I saw your car at Balls & Burgers. I stopped by to talk to you but you weren't there. I figured you would be over here so I wanted to give you this."

She walked over to Benny and handed him the keys to the Lexus.

"I'm sorry we ended up like this. It was fun while it lasted" She walked over to Debbie. "I can see why Tony is so in love with you. He never talks about anything else but you. You're a lovely woman and you're lucky to have such a sweet, loving man like Tony."

"Thank you," said Debbie, as she wiped the sniffles with her arm.

"Thank you for all your help, Mary Kathryn," said Tony.

"It was my pleasure," said Kat. She turned to Julie and smiled. "Mom's doing fine."

"Great," said Julie.

"You know her mom?" asked Benny.

"Her mom is my aunt," said Julie. "Kat is my cousin."

"Take good care of Benny, Jules. He's a great guy."

"I plan to," said Julie, as she grabbed Benny's arm.

"So you knew about me and Kat all along?" asked Benny.

"We'll talk about that later, sweetie," said Julie.

Nick grabbed Kat's arm again and tried to escort her out the room.

"Wait a second," she said. "Are these guys The Cramping Violets?"

"Hi, I'm Dylan. Pleased to meet you."

"I saw her first," said Wesley.

"Get you own," said Dustin.

"Man, you sure look a lot calmer than the last time I saw you outside this apartment last week," said Pizza Guy.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Benny.

"Hello, Miss O'Malley," Kat said with a snarl. "I haven't seen you since you fired me last week."

"I'm sorry about that, Kat. By this time tomorrow, I'll be giving you a call explaining what's going on."

"No need," said Kat. "I got a job at the New Lake Times as the art director, making twice as much as I was at your record company."

Nick grabbed her again.

"Just a second, Nick," said Kat.

"So you do know Nick," said Benny.

"Of course I do. Nick was the one I left the party with that night Zipper Down was killed. I thought you knew that."

"Nick failed to mention that little detail," said Benny.

"Please go now, Kat," said Nick.

"I just want Benny to know that he shouldn't be too upset about me coming home with you that night. Nothing happened."

"What?" asked Nick.

"You're kidding," remarked Benny.

"I find that hard to believe," said Andie.

"It's true," said Kat. "We were both drunk when we got here. You passed out in your bed after taking off all your clothes. You forgot I was even here. I was too drunk to leave so I just stayed here."

"Why did you make me believe something happened?" asked Nick.

"Oh, I was just having a little fun with you. I thought you were gay, so..."

"What? Wait a second. What in the hell make you think I was gay?"

"You kept mumbling a man's name all night."

"And what name was it?" asked Andie.

"I believe it was Andy," said Kat.

Andie was stunned. She looked at Nick who had the same reaction as she did.

"Well, I really need to go now," said Kat. "It was nice to meet you guys. I hope your album does well. Debbie, it was great to finally meet you. Tony, treat that woman well. Benny, once again, I'm sorry, but you ended up with an awesome woman. Good luck with him, Jules. Nick, you're a great guy. Ms. O'Malley, no hard feelings. I'm sure you had your reasons for letting me go. Bye everybody." She stopped short of leaving when she turned to Andie. "I'm sorry. I never got your name."

"It's Andie," she said.

"Oh, wow. I guess you were the one Nick kept muttering about all night. Oh, well. Whatever. Gotta run. Bye." She pranced out, closing the door behind her.

Andie stared at Nick in disbelief.

"Andie," said Debbie, "I think somebody _really_ likes you." She smiled, grabbed Tony, and dragged him to the door. "If you would excuse us, we need to go next door and consummate this engagement."

"We will return in about five minutes," said Tony.

"Try five days, lover," said the excited Debbie. As she led him to the front door, she opened it to Gerome Elderberry.

"What have we here?" he asked.

"I'm really starting to hate Sundays in my apartment," said Nick. "What are you doing here, Elderberry?"

"Is that any way to greet an old friend, Pel-tire?"

"Just because you followed me around the country this week doesn't make you an old friend."

"You actually left town this week?" asked Andie.

"Yeah. Chicago, New Orleans, and Lafayette," said Nick

"When were you in New Orleans?" asked Andie.

"I was there, too," said Debbie.

"What were you doing in New Orleans?" asked Tony.

"We were there," said Benny. "We just got back this morning."

"You all can have time for playing Where's Waldo later," announced Gerome. "I have a few things to say to you people." He walked towards Jamie. "It seems that you aren't exactly what you make yourself out to be, Ms. O'Malley."

"Oh, no. She really is a lesbian," replied Nick. "Please don't say anything otherwise, Jamie. I'm confused enough as it is."

"Don't worry, Nick. I know what Detective Elderberry is getting at," said Jamie.

"It's Lieutenant Elderberry, Ms. O'Malley," said Gerome. "You run a slick operation. You had me on a wild goose chase to keep me from the real killer."

"At least it took you a week to figure it out," said Jamie.

"Go ahead, rub it in," he said. "I hope you accomplished what you set out to do on your end."

"I'm about to wrap it up," said Jamie.

"Well, I'm going to save you a little trouble," said Elderberry. "Carlos Verona just died in a car crash, along with two of his flunkies and one of the men you were planning to pin – Harold Rogers."

"What?" asked Andie. "Oh, my. I just saw him a couple of hours ago." She was surprised that she felt no remorse. She realized it was her setup that resulted in his demise. She actually felt a slight bit of empowerment.

"Yes," said Gerome. "That man you were running around New Orleans with, who also went back with Verona's underage niece."

"You were in New Orleans too?" Nick asked Andie.

"Hang on, Pel-tire. Let me finish what I need to say to the redhead here. Gary Bell was also killed in a crash tonight, so that's another man you don't have to worry about. Oh, also Pel-tire's Uncle Dave – he was killed tonight in a crash."

"My Uncle Dave?" asked Nick. "I didn't know he was still alive."

"He's not," said Gerome. "And one more person you don't have to worry about – Peter Grimes. He just died in his hospital room."

"Peter's dead, too?" asked the stunned Andie.

"It looks like my job really did get easier," said Jamie. "I still need to find out why all these people just happened to die at the same time."

"Your job is over, O'Malley. This is our jurisdiction. You can have Chief Bushman. We have him incarcerated right now. We'll take care of the rest. Now for that little matter you kept me from – the murder of Zipper Down."

"I knew you'd figure it out," said Jamie.

"Thanks for that vote of confidence, O'Malley," said Elderberry. "I just spoke to Sergeant Wilcox. Your girl Kristi Love just confessed to being the one who left the party with Zipper Down that night. She had fully intended to kill him to as requested by one Gary Bell. She said Zipper wanted to show her his video collection. She was thinking he wanted something else, but for some reason or another, that wasn't the case. He really just wanted someone to talk to. She was supposed to poison him and try to make it look like a suicide. She realized she couldn't do it so she left after he started to watch Mommy Dearest. The video in the tape player and her fingerprints on the doorknob confirmed her story. She even gave us the unused vial of arsenic that had Gary Bell's fingerprints on it. Zipper Down was trying to blackmail Mr. Bell for tax evasion. He was involved in an underpaid contract and needed more money."

Elderberry paused as he gazed across the room. "It's really nice to have all of you together here tonight. It makes my job a lot easier. It seems as if Gary Bell wasn't the only one with a motive to kill Zipper Down. I just got back from the crime lab. It seems that the pizza box contained some incriminating evidence.

"I told you I didn't do it," said Nick.

"I know," said Elderberry. "I was thrown off course. I knew a Pel-tire had something to do with it. When I realized it wasn't you, I figured it was your father. I realized it wasn't him after talking to him in Lafayette."

"You talked to him after I left?" asked Nick. Maybe he is trying to make amends, he thought.

"Yes, I did. He's actually a charming man. I then thought that your uncle was involved in this mess – him being a Pel-tire and all. It turned out that he was in a round about way. Zipper Down died of asphyxiation. This doesn't sound like murder – except for one thing; in the little anchovy that was found lodged in his throat, there was a tiny trace of poison."

"He was the only one who liked anchovies," said Wesley.

"Exactly," said Elderberry. "All the band members ate from that pizza box. There were fingerprints from all four found. However, anchovies were only placed on one fourth of the pizza."

"That's the way I ordered it," said Nick. "Zipper liked anchovies, Dylan, liked sausage, Wesley liked Canadian bacon, and Dustin liked pepperoni."

"Right," said Elderberry. "And you placed the order at the Deville Creek location."

"Because that's the one closest to Zipper Down's apartment. They told me they would be there the afternoon before the party that night. I sent them that pizza so they could get rid of their munchies."

"How did you know they would have the munchies?" asked Benny.

"Look at them, Benny," said Nick.

"I never touch the stuff," said Wesley, who started to sweat.

"I need the bathroom," said the nervous Dylan.

"Did somebody mention pizza?" asked Dustin.

"Don't worry," said Gerome. "I'm not here to make any petty pot bust. I'll leave that up to street cops. Let me finish. The order was received by the Deville Creek location but was delivered by the University location – with Pel-tire's address on it. The call records show that someone at the Deville Creek location took the order then processed the order at the University location. With the prints taken from the original order form and the box itself, it was discovered that the same person who took the order processed it at the University location, then took the pizza and personally delivered it to Zipper Down's apartment."

"Hey, the pizza was already there when we got there," said Dylan. "We didn't see who delivered it."

"Of course you didn't," said Elderberry. "That would have messed up the plan. The person who delivered it knew about Zipper's love for anchovies, apparently from all the anchovy pizzas ordered by him. This person took the opportunity to add a touch of poison to one of the little fishes, knowing that just a touch was all that would be needed to kill him."

"But he didn't die until after the party," said Dustin.

"Did you eat all the pizza before the party?" asked Elderberry.

"I think Zipper left a slice," said Dylan.

"Right. He ate that slice after he got home from the party," said Elderberry. "He choked to death on the poison-laced piece. It never entered his blood stream so it didn't show up on the crime lab report. I found a small sliver of an anchovy still on the box when I returned to the apartment. The lab confirmed it this evening. The sliver had just a touch of poison on it. The piece logged in his throat contained just enough to choke him. His throat muscles became paralyzed before he could swallow it. The name on the box showed that it came from the location around the corner from here with Pel-tire's name on the order. It wasn't delivered by Pel-tire – it was just ordered by him. The person who delivered it had the perfect motive. The poison was from the venom of the African Green Mamba snake. It only takes a drop to kill a man. I also checked the phone records of Wainwright and Grimes. The fax number used from Africa also made some local calls to a Horace Grimsby. Dave Peltier's prison mate for twelve years was Calvin Grimsby, father of Horace. A tiny vial of containing a trace of green mamba venom was found at Horace Grimsby's apartment. After talking to Calvin, I found out that Dave owed him a favor. That favor turned out to be the shipping of green mamba venom from Africa to Horace Grimsby, who would in turn use it to kill zipper down."

"Dude, this really blows," said Pizza Guy.

"It sure does, Mr. Horace Grimsby," announced Elderberry.

"Horace?" asked Dustin. "Dude, that's one whacked-up name."

"Yeah," said Wesley. "I thought mine was lame but yours tops it."

"Isn't that like that elephant that heard the who?" asked Dylan.

"No, dude," said Dustin. "That was Horton."

"My bad," said Dylan.

"Do you idiots realize what I'm saying?" asked Elderberry. "Your friend here is the one who killed Zipper Down."

"We never really liked the guy anyway," said Wesley.

"Yeah, and I think he was gay," said Dustin.

"What? No wonder you guys always insisted he sleep with me on road trips," said Dylan. "Man, that's just wrong. It's a good thing he never tried anything. I would have had to..."

"Will you assholes keep quiet?" screamed Elderberry.

"Phipps, get in here," he yelled to the waiting policeman, who was just outside the door. "I want you to place Mr. Grimsby here under arrest."

"Bummers," said Pizza Guy. "Sorry dudes, I just wanted the gig, like big time. I don't usually go around killing people. My old man made the suggestion. Green mamba venom sounded so cool."

Officer Phipps handcuffed Pizza Guy, a.k.a. Horace Grimsby, and escorted him out the door.

"Don't worry, Jamie," said Benny. "I'll get right on it for the publicity."

"Benny, aren't you forgetting that Jamie isn't really the head of Apocalypse?" asked Nick.

"It doesn't matter. This news will make them even bigger stars," explained Benny.

"It looks like I taught him well," said Jamie.

"And you're not about to send me on another wild goose chase around the country, looking for another drummer," said Nick.

"Mr. Levon left me instructions saying Benny was to run the company while he's away. He'll be back in about a month," said Jamie. "I really don't care what you do with the company."

"He was such a good delivery guy," said Nick.

"Well, we still have some business to take care of," said Debbie, as she grabbed Tony again.

"I am so glad to have you back, my little fettuccine," said Tony. "There are so many plans we must make, and..."

"We can make plans later. Right now, I just want to go next door and screw your brains out," said Debbie.

"My Deborah, I do not approve of this foul language you have been using, but I must admit – I find it quite arousing."

"Let's find out just how aroused you are, stud-man." They left the apartment.

"Okay, guys. We need to find you a new drummer," said Benny. "I'll make some calls and postpone our tour for a few weeks. Meet me in my office tomorrow at eight." He felt Julie tugging on his arm and gave him a sultry smile. "On second thought, make that ten."

He grabbed Julie and they left the apartment. They hoped into his beloved Lexus and went to Benny's home.

"You heard the man," said Jamie. "Get out of here and get some rest. I have the feeling you won't be getting much of that in the next few months."

"You want to come to my place and rest with me?" asked Dylan.

"You idiot," said Dustin. "She's a lesbian."

"What? You make me sleep with the gay guy but you won't let me hit on the lesbian. Man, you guys are wrong."

"Nobody's hitting on the lesbian," said Nick. "You guys just get out of here. I'm sure Benny will set y'all up tomorrow."

"Okay, dude," said Dustin. "Come on, dudes. Let's blow this taco stand."

"I think she likes me," said Dylan, as they left the apartment.

"It looks like I still have some work to do," said Jamie. "I think I'll leave you two alone. It was nice to meet you, Andie."

"Same here," Andie replied, as she shook Jamie's hand.

"Nick's a great man. I'm sure he'll make you happy." She leaned over and gave Nick a hug. She kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear, "Don't screw this one up." Smiling, she left the apartment.

"Man, this sure has been one hell of an evening," said Nick.

"You can say that again," said Andie.

"Man, this sure..."

"Nick, come on. It's just a figure of speech."

"I know. I'm just trying to make small talk." The tension in the air was thick.

"Why do we need small talk? We never had trouble speaking before?" asked Andie.

"I know. It's just that tonight has been kind of revealing."

"Nick, I know what you're getting at."

"You do?"

"Yes, and I must say, it's pretty awkward."

"Sure is."

"Why don't we sit down and talk about it," said Andie. She sat on the sofa and patted the seat next to her, inviting Nick to do the same.

"So I guess you won't be seeing Harvey anymore."

"His name is – I'm sorry – was Harold and no, I won't be seeing him anymore."

"Let's just imagine that he didn't just die," said Nick. "Would you still be with him?"

"That's a weird question, but I can honestly say – no. I wouldn't be," said Andie. She reflected on the situation for a couple of seconds. "I'm sorry he died, but he was a lying, cheating pervert."

"I guess work is going to be really interesting tomorrow."

"You're telling me. Probably for you, too."

"You can say that again."

"Probably for you..."

"Okay, Andie. I get the point," Nick said, with a chuckle.

"You're so cute," Andie said, with a subtle smile.

"You think so?"

"No, I'm just feeding you a load of bullshit, Nick."

"That's what I figured," said a dejected Nick.

"No, I'm being sarcastic."

"About the bullshit?"

"No, silly, about you being cute."

"So you don't think I'm cute?"

"Wait a second. Now you're confusing me – no – I don't think you're cute"

Nick's face dropped in disappointment.

"I'm sure that you're cute," said a smiling Andie.

"Okay, you can stay," Nick joked.

"Would you like me to stay?"

"What do you mean by stay?"

"I don't know. What did you mean by stay?"

Nick looked into Andie's eyes. He saw a glow he'd never seen before.

"I mean that you can stay here instead of driving all the way home?" said an extremely confused Nick.

"Oh, I see," said Andie. "You don't want me to stay here for any other reason?"

"What other reason would there be?"

"Maybe you would like to do something with me?"

"Are you setting me up? Is this some kind of trick? I don't think that's very funny."

"I'm not saying I'd even let you, Nick. I'm just wondering if the intentions are there."

"You want to know if I want to sleep with you?"

"No, I already know the answer to that. You made that clear at that lunch you had had with Jamie and Benny."

"Oh yeah, I guess I did say that."

"It's yes, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but that's still pretty presumptuous of you. Just because I said it doesn't necessarily mean I meant it." Nick realized that sounded bad.

"Let me ask you this – if you didn't sleep with Kat, how long has it been since you actually had sex?"

"With a woman?"

"Unless there's another part about you I don't know about."

"No, of course not. I'm just making sure I'm getting the question right. You've never asked me this kind of question before."

"It's important that I know."

"Why?"

"Just tell me."

"Okay. Let's see – Marlena wanted to, but I didn't. Suzi, I believe her name was, wanted, but I couldn't for some reason or another. Satan herself in Chicago..."

"What?"

"Never mind. Nothing happened. Okay, let me think."

"I know there's so many, so take your time."

Nick thought about the question for a few minutes.

"Oh, my God," said Nick. "Now that I think about it, I haven't had sex with any woman since I met you."

"Give me a break, Nick. I've seen all those woman you've been with. You mean to tell me you didn't sleep with any of them?"

"Oh, I slept with most of them. I just didn't have sex with any of them."

"I don't believe you, Nick. Why can't you just be honest with me?"

"I am. You don't think this is something I want to admit, do you? Oh, my God. I really didn't. I can't believe it. I just never stopped to think about it before."

"Let's just say you are telling me the truth; when did you realize it?"

Nick took her hand and gazed into her eyes.

"Just a few moments ago," he said, in a sweet, calm tone. He rubbed his thumb across the top of Andie's hand. He took his other hand and put it behind Andie's head. He petted her long brown hair, never breaking the stare. He slowly brought his lips to meet hers. Andie jumped back.

"We can't do this," she exclaimed. "There is no way I can believe you haven't had sex with another woman since you met me. Why are you lying to me?"

"I'm just as surprised as you are. I haven't really thought about it before now. Wait a second. I do remember one. The night I met you, I hooked up with the desk clerk at the hotel. That's the last one."

"So you had sex with a girl right after we had that long talk at my apartment?"

"Yeah. I remember the night not feeling complete. Something was missing, so I got the desk clerk to come to my room for her fifteen minute break - and I thought about you the whole time."

"This is ridiculous. Why didn't you try anything with me?"

"You wanted me to try something?"

"Of course not – well, maybe – oh, hell, I don't know." Andie was more confused than Nick.

"I didn't want to screw up my chances of being your friend," said Nick.

Andie paused then said, "That is the sweetest thing anybody has ever said to me."

"Besides, sex is the only thing I wanted from that desk clerk."

"I hate you," Andie suddenly cried.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"But I want to have sex with you now."

"You've always wanted to have sex with me," she said through the tears.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because you slept with that hotel clerk instead of me." Andi blurted out.

"I didn't think you ever wanted to sleep with me."

"Well, I surely don't anymore."

"Okay, if it makes you feel any better, I don't want to sleep with you, either."

"Go to hell!" screamed Andie. She grabbed a pillow from the sofa and started beating him with it.

"Hey, stop it. You got me in the eye."

"I don't care. I hate you."

"Why do you hate me?"

"Because I love you." Andie got up from the sofa and stormed out the door, leaving Nick alone.

"What just happened?" he asked himself.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE: _Love and Hate_

Nick stayed motionless on his sofa for about thirty minutes, trying to make sense of what just happened. He heard a knock on his door. Hoping it was Andie, he ran to open it. He was stunned. Standing there in front of him was Lucille Fernelli.

"Excuse me," she said. "I am looking for Antonio Satanelli. I think he lives in the apartment next door but does not seem to be – you. It's you. You're the man who left me all alone in my hotel room in Chicago last week."

"I can explain."

"You don't have to explain, Nicholas."

"Hey, I never told you my name."

"I knew who you were, Nicholas. I was just having a little fun with you. Is Antonio in his apartment right now?"

"Oh, he's there, all right. He's having a love marathon right now."

"Excellent. It looks like all the pieces are falling into place." Lucille was pleased.

"What do you mean?"

"Nicholas, I guess you know of Antonio's association with me."

"Oh, no. You're finally going to get me," he said.

"Yes, I am finally going to get you. It is Antonio's wish," she said with evil smile.

"What are you going to do to me?" His voice was shaking.

"I am going to put some sense into your head, you idiot."

"What?"

"Let me explain. May I come in for a second?" She didn't wait for an answer. She strolled to the couch stared drinking from the wine glass Jamie had left on the coffee table. "This is swill, but will do for the moment. Nicholas, Antonio has been my friend and business associate for quite some time. It has been his wish to be happy, along with his closest and dearest friends. For all his loyalty towards me, I am making sure he gets his wish."

"I don't get it."

"Oh, Nicholas, there is so much you do not get. There will be extreme happiness for Antonio, his Deborah, and his friend Benny. However, you will be in charge of your own destiny."

"You didn't mention Andie. She's Tony's friend, too."

"The reason I did not mention her name is that your destiny involves her happiness." She motioned for him to sit next to her.

"But she hates me," he said as he reluctantly sat on the sofa.

"Oh, on the contrary. She loves you."

"But I'm scared. I don't want to lose her friendship."

"There is no reason for you not to love her as a friend and a lover."

"But I've never done both."

"It can be done. The best relationships are built on the foundation of love and friendship. She is your friend, correct?"

"Yeah."

"And you love her, correct?"

"Uh, I think I do."

"That is not an answer."

"It's the one I'm giving to you."

"Do not make me angry." She rapidly stood up and glared at Nick. Nick felt the power Lucille was suddenly emanating. He took a deep breath, a swallow, and another deep breath.

"Yes, I love her."

"Then it is done."

"What is done?"

"You will realize your destiny. Stand up when I am speaking to you."

"Okay, let's say I do. Why should I believe you? You're evil," said Nick, as he obeyed the command.

"Oh, my poor confused friend. Nicholas, you are afraid of the unknown, correct?"

"Yeah, you can say that." His knees were trembling.

"Remember this – all that is unknown is not necessarily evil."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Think about it, Nicholas. Tell Antonio I came by. I'll talk to him later and I'll see you some time in the future." She turned and walked away.

Nick gradually walked back to his sofa. He sat down and tried to unravel the mystery of the night's events. He thought back of the night that he met Andie...

"Hi, I'm in room three-fifteen. I seem to have misplaced my key," Nick told the sexy redhead behind the counter. He had just left Andie's apartment.

"Are you Nicholas Pelter?" she asked, as she checked out the registration book.

"It's Pel-tee-ay. Yeah, that's me."

"I see it's being billed to Apocalypse Records."

"That's who I work for."

"So, you're in the recording industry."

"It sure looks that way."

"You know, I'm a singer," she said, with a huge smile.

"Really? Why don't you come up to my room and show me your vocal talents." He figured she would just laugh off this rude gesture.

"I have a fifteen minute break coming to me. We could go right now."

This is too easy, thought Nick. "Okay, let's go."

The redhead put a sign on the desk showing a 15-minute break, then came out from behind the counter and grabbed Nick's hand. She led him up to the room and opened the door for them. Nick walked in first, followed by the redhead. She immediately took off her sweater, revealing a magnificent pair of breasts.

"Wait a second," said Nick. "I thought you wanted to show off your vocal talents."

"Oh, you're about to hear some of my vocal talents, all right, but it won't be singing." She pushed Nick on his bed then took off his jeans. "I only have fifteen minutes so we have to make it quick." The rest of her clothes came off in a matter of seconds. Nick had no hesitation rising to the occasion as she climbed on top of him. The motion of the bed soon found a rhythm, causing a steady beat of the headboard against the wall. After a few minutes, the sweat began to pour.

"Do me harder, Nick," screamed the redhead.

"I'm – going – as- hard – as - I – can," Nick muttered between deep breaths and thrusts.

"Oh, Nick. I'm about to come," she loudly moaned. "Keep going, Nick."

"Oh - yes – what – ever – your – name – is," as he managed to squeeze the words in.

"Nick, Nick, Nick," she screamed.

"You – you - you," Nick answered back.

"Nick, I'm there. I'm coming - Nick," she screamed as she started her climax.

"Andrea," screamed Nick, as he reached the same state. The redhead collapsed on top of Nick and tried to catch her breath. She rolled over to the side as she passed her hand over Nick's sweaty chest.

"You called me Andrea," she said, breathing heavily.

"Are you sure?" asked Nick, still trying to catch his own breath.

"Yes, you did. Right when we climaxed."

Nick was embarrassed. "Sorry about that," he whispered.

"No, don't be sorry," she said. "I was just wondering – how did you know that was my name?"

"It was on your nametag?"

"My name tag says Kiki. Andrea is my real name. Really, how did you know?"

"Lucky guess?" answered a confused Nick...

"Dude, it looks like his head is about to explode," said Dustin, as he watched Nick from the monitor at Balls & Burgers. The boys were helping themselves to the hospitality of the empty bar.

"This show blows, man," said Wesley. "I'm gonna pour another brewsky."

"Weren't we just at that place?" asked Dylan. "That looks like Nick." All three stared at the monitor.

"Wow, dude, that is Nick," said Dustin. "I didn't know he had his own show."

"It's kind of dull," said Dylan. "Nothing's going on."

"Look, he just got up," said Wesley.

"What's he doing?" asked Dustin.

"He's jumping up and down like some kind of crazed psycho," said Dylan.

"Man, I wish the sound worked on this thing," said Dustin.

"Hey do you hear that?" asked Dylan. "I think I hear somebody screaming from outside." He ran to the front door and heard Nick screaming from down the block.

"What's he screaming," asked Wesley.

"Is there a chick in there?" Dylan asked from just outside the door.

"I don't see one," said Wesley. "Why?"

"Because all I hear him screaming is YES, YES, YES."

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX: _All Hell Breaks Loose_

"Thank you for calling the offices of Wainwright and Jenson," said Beth, the pixie-haired receptionist. "How may I direct your call?"

"You need to answer 'how may I help you,'" said Andie.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Beth.

"It's me, Ms. Jenson," said Andie.

"Oh, I really beg your pardon, ma'am. How may I help you?"

"I just want to make sure you direct all my calls to Mr. Wainwright. I'm taking the day off."

"Oh, that's right. This is the big weekend."

"Right. We're leaving this evening. Don't try to reach me. I'll be unavailable."

"Yes, Ms. Jenson. You have a wonderful time."

"Thank you, Beth," said Andie. She hung up and looked down at her leg. A little five-year-old girl was clinging to it. "What are you doing, Anna?"

"Mommy, why are you and Daddy leaving us?" asked the little longhaired brunette, who was clutching the tattered Atticus Finch with all her might.

"This is your daddy's big weekend. Grandpa Phil will be staying here with you."

"Can you take Joey with you?"

"Of course not. Why would you want us to take your little brother away from you?"

"Because I hate him."

"She sounds just like you did seven years ago," said Nick, who just walked into the living room, carrying their three-year-old son, Joey.

"I love you, Anna," said little Joey, to his sister.

"Mommy, Joey is being mean to me again."

"Why? Just because he told you he loves you?"

"Yes. I can't be mad at him when he says that."

"I see you're learning the secret," said Nick.

"That's because you tell Mommy you love her all the time," said Anna.

"I love you, Anna," said little Joey.

"Okay, Joey, don't overdo it," said Andie.

"I love you, mommy."

"Okay, you can never overdo that," said Andie.

"What time does our plane leave?" asked Nick.

"Six o'clock. We can't be late."

"Don't worry, sweetie. Oh yeah, Phil asked Mr. Levon and his wife over to watch the show with him over here. I hope that's not a problem?" asked Nick.

"As long as I don't have to be here, it's no problem."

"You still don't like that woman, do you?"

"I know she's Mr. Levon's wife, but I will always remember her as Ursula Vanderhousen," said Andie.

"Fair enough," said Nick. The doorbell rang. "There's Phil now."

Joey and Anna ran to the door and jumped into Phil's arms.

"How are my two favorite grandkids?" asked Phil.

"We're you're only two grandkids," said Anna.

"And you're the best two kids on this whole planet," said Phil.

"It's good to see how much they love you," said Nick.

"I'll never be able to thank you enough for letting me be a part of their lives."

"Hey, no problem. I figured why not let them experience all the things I missed."

"I'm so sorry," said Phil.

"You don't have to keep saying that, Phil. I forgive you."

"You think you could ever call me Dad?"

"Don't count on it. I don't forgive you that much." Nick patted Phil on the back.

"I understand. Oh, I got something for Andie – free tickets for the Chippendales. They're coming to town in a couple of weeks."

"Where in the world did you get free tickets?" asked an excited Andie.

"My friend, Gerome, is one of the dancers. He sent them to me."

"Gerome Elderberry?" asked Nick

"Yeah, but he goes by the name of Steel – Steel Dagger."

"You just never know," replied Nick.

"Hey, Daddy, can we stay up late and watch Auntie Julie's show tonight?" asked Anna.

"If Grandpa Phil lets you stay up that late, you can watch Songbird."

"You let her watch a show about a martial arts lounge singing detective?" asked Phil.

"Hey, it's her Auntie Julie. Besides, it's a rerun. I saw it. It's relatively safe for the kids to watch."

"But if Auntie Julie is on TV, how can she go with you, Mommy and Uncle Benny?" asked Anna.

"The show's been taped, sweetheart, just like Daddy does at his job. I record things so people can listen to it over and over. Auntie Julie will be with us, along with Auntie Debbie and Uncle Tony, said Nick."

"Is Uncle Robert and Auntie Ursula coming over?"

"Yes, sweetheart. They'll be here to watch the show with y'all."

"I don't like Auntie Ursula. She's a bitch."

Andie came running into the living room. She grabbed Anna and sent her to play with Andrew.

"I have no idea where she learned to talk like that," said an embarrassed Andie.

"And when we come back from our trip, we're all going to visit your great-grandfather and great-grandmother in Florida," said Nick. Nick had hired Elderberry to track down Annabelle in Chicago a few years earlier. Her husband had died so she and Augustus were finally able to be together. They moved to a retirement community in Destin, Florida.

"How come we have so many people in our family?" asked Anna.

"You can never have too many people in a family," said Nick.

Two nights later, Nick and Andie were in their seats – along with Benny, Julie, Debbie, and Tony. Several other familiar faces were seated directly behind of them. In anticipation, they all waited for the announcement...

"And the Oscar for best original soundtrack goes to.... Nicholas Peltier for When Darkness Follows."

Andie grabbed Nick's face and planted a huge kiss on his lips. He trotted to the stage and grabbed the Oscar.

"Wow, this is not what I expected," said Nick. "I guess this is where I thank everybody. Okay, first of all, I want to thank all the fantastic musicians who worked on the soundtrack. Barry Washington, the sax man – Sammy Kingston, best blues guitarist I've ever worked with, Roshondi Motabi, strangest drummer I've ever worked with, Chaz Reed, the acoustic guitar master, and of course Shana D'Angelo, the lovely lady who provided the piano and the sultry vocals. I also want to send a quick thanks to U. S. Attorney General O'Malley. She inspired me in so many ways and will always have a special place in my heart. I thank my two wonderful kids, Anna and Joey, who are probably giving my dad hell right now – there, I said it, Dad. And mostly, I want to thank my beautiful wife, Andrea. First, I want to apologize to her. I really did like Forrest Gump. I saw an advanced screening at the label before we saw the preview together that night. I only told you that because I saw the way you look at Tom Hanks every time he's on the screen. I was jealous." He pointed out Tom Hanks in the audience. "With all due respect, Mr. Hanks, try to be less charming around my wife."

The camera quickly panned to Tom Hanks, who was doubling over with laughter. A quick shot of Andie displayed her with tears of elation and embarrassment.

As all eyes turned back to Nick, he exclaimed, "Andie, as cheesy as this sounds, you're the one who helped me find love – in the nick of time. I love you with every inch of my screwed-up being. Thank you."

Andie sat in her chair shedding more tears of joy. Moments later, another announcement was made...

"And the award for best original song goes to... To Hell and Back, from When Darkness Follows, The Cramping Violets with Nicholas Peltier – writers."

Nick returned to the stage with Dylan, Dustin and Wesley. Dylan took the award from the presenter and grabbed the microphone.

"This is bad, man, like, you know, bad like good, not bad – you know what I'm saying," rambled Dylan. "I want to thank my man Nick here, for helping us write this bad boy – all the folks at Apocalypse Records for keeping us on for seven years, and Julie Templeton for being in all our videos. You rock, Julie. And one more thing – we just lost our last drummer to Buddhism, so if any of you dudes out there want to jam with us, auditions are after the show. Peace."

The crowd applauded and waited anxiously for the next presentation.

"And the Oscar for best Actress in a major role, goes to...Deborah Satanelli for her role in When Darkness Follows."

Tony helped Debbie out of her seat. She kissed Tony passionately for what seemed like minutes before Andie grabbed her and shoved her towards the stage. Debbie clutched the Oscar.

"Oh – my – God. This is unbelievable." She started crying. "I want to thank everybody I know, but I don't think they'll let me stay up here for that long, so let me just say thanks to Apocolypse Pictures; Nick Peltier for making this story come to life; his wife, Andie, for being my best friend; Benny Myers for putting this all together, his wife, Julie Templeton, for putting Benny all together; Lucille, Chaz, Kat, Raul, those crazy Cramping Violet guys; oh and Mom and Dad. Last but certainly not least - Tony, sweetheart, this is for you. You're my horny little devil and I love you so, so much. You better give me more than five minutes tonight. Thank you!"

The crowd burst into laughter. Debbie covered her face, realizing what she just said. She walked off the stage then turned back to blow a little kiss to the audience. After an intermission, the next award was announced.

"And the Oscar for best director goes to...Ben Myers for When Darkness Follows."

Benny started jumping up and down while hugging Julie. The back of his heel got caught on her dress, causing it to slip off her shoulder, exposing one of her breasts for a split second.

"Look, Grandpa, Auntie Julie has one of her boobies on TV," said little Anna, who was watching the telecast from home. The operator of the networks five-second delay was having a sneezing spell. At least that's what he later told the FCC.

"That Benny is a lucky man," said Mr. Levon, who was sitting on the couch next to his wife. Ursula slapped him.

"See, Grandpa, I told you Auntie Ursula was a bitch," said little Anna to Phil.

Benny ran to the stage, grabbed the Oscar with both hands, and started his speech.

"This is super. If I knew directing a movie was this much fun, I would have done it years ago. I need to thank some special people. First, I'd like to thank Robert Levon, who started Apocalypse Records with a dream and two hundred bucks. With the help of Lucille Fernelli, he started Apocalypse Pictures and let me direct this movie. Any man crazy enough to do that deserves more than I could give back."

"Did you hear what that little girl said about me?" Ursula asked Mr. Levon.

"Damn it, Ursula, shut up. Benny's is thanking me on national television."

"But Anna just called me a..."

"Bitch. Yeah, I heard. And you know what? I think she's right."

"I must thank Mayor Dennis Wilcox of New Lake City, for allowing us to film in the beautiful town we all call home. Oh, I have to congratulate Kat Barrett, who won the Oscar for best art direction earlier – no hard feelings Kat. I'd really like to thank Nick Peltier for being my best friend," said the gleaming Benny. "Nick, you rattled every nerve I ever had and kept me on my toes. Thank you, buddy. And last but certainly not least – I thank my beautiful wife, Julie. Julie, you are my personal songbird. The nation may have fell in love with the BreastMaster girl and a martial arts lounge singing detective, but I'm the one who fell in love with you. I love you so much. Thank you, everybody."

Julie was sitting next to Andie. She started crying along with Andie. The tension was mounting as the final award was about to be presented.

"And the Oscar for best picture goes to... When Darkness Follows, Lucille Fernelli, executive producer."

Lucille, appearing younger and more beautiful than before, gracefully walked to the stage from her seat in the second row. Halfway there, she turned and made a gesture for Nick, Debbie, and Benny to join her on stage. They enthusiastically accepted her request.

"It is a tremendous honor to accept this award on behalf of the extraordinary cast and crew who created this film," Lucille said, proudly. "I would love to thank everyone individually, but only one name will be mentioned. He is a man who had nothing to do with the actual making of this movie, but had everything to do with it. He is sitting right over there. Stand up and take a bow, Antonio Satanelli."

Tony was shocked. He reluctantly stood up and blew a kiss in the direction of Lucille.

"Antonio's love for his friends is the reason we are all standing here tonight. I have been associated with him for many years. He has done many unselfish deeds for me. When asked what could be done for him in return, his reply was that he wished his friends to be showered with happiness. Judging from the success of this film, I'd say his wish has come true. Antonio, we've all had one hell of a good time and we owe it all to you. Grazie."

Tony was in his seat in tears. He leaned over to hug Andie as he watched Debbie, Nick, and Benny enjoying the limelight.

"Tomorrow, Andie, I can return to my job at the 7-Eleven, knowing I have made a difference in this world."

"You're not staying in town for the parties and interviews?" asked Andie, trying to be heard above the thunderous applause.

"Oh, no. That is Deborah's job. Mine is to go back home and make it as happy and joyful a place as possible."

"Tony, you have a Doctorate in Theology, a masters in art, and PHD in business. Why are you still working at that 7-Eleven?"

"It is the work I love doing, my dear friend."

"Well, if that's what makes you happy."

"Oh, I think I failed to mention that I own the entire chain now," Tony said, with a smile.

The parties in Hollywood that night were in full swing. Nick, Andie, Debbie, Benny, and Julie were at the Apocalypse Studio party. The liquor was flowing freely. Nick, not used to drinking anymore, was getting quite buzzed. He excused himself to go to the bathroom. As he walked into the foyer, a valet promptly handed Nick a towel.

"Congratulations, Mr. Peltier," said the dapper attendant.

"Thanks, but please, call me Nick." He was looking for some kind of nametag on the gentleman's lapel.

"Just call me Bart, sir."

Nick smiled. "Okay, thank you, Bart." He walked into the adjoining room. I've seen this guy before somewhere, he thought. After relieving himself, he washed his hands and reached for his towel. He slipped on a water puddle and fell. When he opened his eyes, he heard a familiar voice.

"Hello, Nicholas," said the voice.

"Is that you, Satan?" asked Nick.

"Maybe, who do you want me to be?"

"Oh, no. We're not going through that again."

"I am disappointed in you, Nicholas."

"Well, I'm not the least bit sorry for that."

"You showed so much promise. You were so lost and confused. I thought I had you many years ago."

"Looks like you lost, dipshit."

"Oh, you think so? You better look back at how you came to be here tonight."

"What do you mean?"

"You think Tony is a good person, don't you?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Well, you weren't so sure of it seven years ago."

"I wasn't sure of anything seven years ago."

"I thought you figured it out, but apparently you haven't. It's time that I tell you this – Tony works for me. I own your soul."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that your soul is mine. You made a deal with him. You have just experienced the joy of great success. Now, it is time for me to collect what is rightfully mine."

"Wait a second, man, I didn't make a deal with Tony. I worked on the movie Lucille Fernelli produced."

"But Tony made a deal with Lucille Fernelli."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"You are so thick headed. I am Lucille Fernelli."

Nick rubbed his eyes. As he squinted, he could see the image of Lucille Fernelli coming into focus. She was wearing the same sexy, low-cut black gown as earlier that evening. She was also wearing dark sunglasses.

"I knew it. And to think I almost had sex with you."

"You don't seem frightened."

"I don't have any reason to be anymore."

"You people from New Lake City are so foolish."

"If we're so foolish, as you claim, how come you never took over our city?"

"I almost had it seven years ago. That damn spirit of Martin Ratzenburger took out six of my hopefuls – all in one night – at my creek. Carlos Verona, Gary Bell, Harold Rogers, Jamie Dumbrowski, and your own Uncle Dave – not to mention Frankie Deville. He was my great, great, great, grand nephew. I was never fruitful in creating a worthwhile lineage. That kind of upset me. I had to take out Peter Grimes myself. He was useless"

"Well, that's too bad. You still don't own me."

"But I have the rights to it. It's legally mine."

"Do you have the papers to prove it?"

"Uh, no, but..."

"Well, no buts. The matter is closed. If you don't have the documents, no deal was made."

"But Tony made a deal with me for you. We had a verbal agreement."

"Did I sign any documents?"

"Well, no, but it's still a binding contract in my book."

"Sorry to disappoint you, you old sucker of souls. If I didn't sign anything regarding the sale of property – the property in question being my soul – then you have no legal rights to it. I haven't been married to a lawyer for seven years without learning anything. You can't have my soul. It belongs to my wife, my kids, and God."

"Why did you have to bring up His name?"

"I know how much you dislike Him."

"It's not that I dislike God. It's just that my job is to take people away from Him. People like you make my job much harder."

"I have a feeling that Tony will make it rough for you, too."

"How is that?"

"He told me this morning about owning the entire 7-Eleven chain now. He said that he's going to cut all the prices in half."

"He wouldn't."

"Like hell, he would."

"I do not like the way this deal is turning out. I had less trouble in my last incarnation, when I was a man."

"You were a man?"

"I took this form to get a better hold over men. You are such idiots."

"Who were you?"

"I was Ivan Mephesto Deville. That somewhat human depiction of myself didn't quite work out the way I would have liked. I had sired a son soon after I killed Bartholomew Rollins and that lineage ended with Frankie. I had some unfinished business with New Lake City, so I decided to take it over."

"Looks like you did a great job."

"You are such a smartass, Nicholas."

"Well, I'd like to say it's been nice talking to you, Satan Lucille Deville, but I would be lying. I know how much you love lies so I won't give you the satisfaction."

"Aren't you going to thank me first?"

"Why would I thank you?"

"I'm the one who told you to follow your heart. I told you that I didn't control you. I convinced you to go after Andie."

"Don't flatter yourself. I would have come to that conclusion on my own."

"You seem so sure of yourself."

"I am."

"Well, it looks like I won't be visiting you anymore. I'm tired of this silly game. I'll just take your soul the old fashioned way."

A hot swirling wind abruptly overtook the bathroom. Horns started sprouting from the top of Lucille's head. The sunglass flew away to reveal a pair of blood red, sinister eyes. Her body grew double in size. The walls caught fire. The toilets overflowed fecal matter and the faucets spewed red ooze. The temperature rose feverishly. She reached behind her and swung around what Nick thought would be a pitchfork. To his astonishment, it was his 1972 Stratocaster guitar - the one signed by Jimi Hendrix. Lucille let out a vicious scream and was just about to smash Nick with his own precious instrument.

Suddenly, the door opened, and before Nick could blink an eye, Bart rushed in and cut Lucille's head off with one mighty swing of his oversized machete. An ocean of blood splattered the white tile walls of the burning bathroom.

"I've been waiting a long time for that," said Bart.

Nick was flabbergasted. "What in the hell just happened?" he yelled, as he wiped the blood away from his disbelieving eyes.

"Maybe I should have told you my full name, Nick. I'm Bartholomew Rollins. I've been following you around the country for seven years waiting for this moment. I was just getting a little payback." He started laughing. "Thank you, Nicholas Peltier!" He waved his arms up and a cold twisting wind took over the bathroom, knocking Nick to the floor. When he got up, he opened his eyes and saw an empty bathroom. He opened to door to the foyer and saw that Bart was no longer there.

He went back in to wipe his face. Looking into the mirror, he noticed that all of the blood was gone. The toilets were clean and the faucets were still. There was no physical evidence of what had just occurred - except for the guitar, which lay unscathed in the middle of the bathroom. He heard a voice.

"Well, that's just great," said the ominous voice. "Now I'm going to have to start over from scratch."

"That's okay with me," said a quickly composed Nick. For the first time, he was fully awake and completely conscious while having a bathroom conversation with the Devil.

"That's a rude thing to say. You know that you'll be the first one I come after."

"I don't think so," said Nick, as he started to walk out the bathroom. He had had his fill of Satan for one lifetime.

"What? You're not going to even tell me good-bye?"

"Nope."

"I don't like you anymore."

"That's comforting."

"So, I just made you feel better."

"Oh, no. You're not going to twist my words around this time. Get the hell out my bathroom."

"But it's not your bathroom."

"I don't care – and another thing – stay away from my friends and family."

"Oh yeah? What will you do to me if I don't?"

Nick stopped and sported an evil smile that intimidated old Satan himself.

"I'll come down there and play Love Blender over and over," said Nick.

"You wouldn't."

"Like hell, I would."

"Okay, Nicholas. You win."

"Damn right, I do," he said, with a smile. He grabbed the guitar and strummed a powerful G chord. Even unplugged, the chord profoundly resonated throughout the bathroom. He started singing, as he walked out the bathroom - "Love Blender, I hate you."

###

### About the Author

Eddie Latiolais currently lives in Baton Rouge, LA with his wife, Shana, and daughter, Anna. This is his first novel, which was over twenty years in the making. A thirty-year veteran of the optical industry, he looks forward to writing his next novel - a dark and humorous novel titled "Optical Delusions." Hopefully, it won't take as long to write.

Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, won't you please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer?

Thanks,

Eddie Latiolais

