I slept on the couch, near the crib, and took care of Daniel when he woke.

Clarabelle and I had reached an agreement--the day shift was hers and the nightshift was mine. It worked reasonably well. I was in bed by 6 AM, and then showered and dressed by the time Marylena came by in the patrol car to pick me up at 2 in the afternoon.

That’s how it went, day after day, week after week, and from where I stand now it all seems dreamlike and unreal. But it was not peaceful. I worried all the time about what Cavell was doing. I didn’t know about the gang he’d hooked up with down at the resort, not until much later, although I suspected he would do something like that because it was all he knew how to do.

My joy was in Daniel, and somewhere along the way he changed from helpless infant to a not-quite-so-helpless toddler who frequently tested fate and his muscles by climbing into and onto everything he could reach. Fortunately, a plastic rabbit toy occupied most of his attention.

As for Clarabelle, what she wanted out of life was a mystery to me, which made her almost as unpredictable as Cavell. Most days when I got home from work at 11 PM, both she and Daniel were sound asleep. Sometimes she was awake and restless and pacing around, grumbling to herself. One night, however, she was particularly riled up and wanting to argue.

“You’re LATE!” she yelled.

I was not late, but I nodded agreeably, “Sorry, Clarabelle. Car trouble.” Marylena’s car worked fine, but I lied because I knew it didn’t really matter what I said.

“Then call a cab! And then call ME to tell me where you are. I can’t stand it anymore, being stuck in this tiny house with that kid. He‘s either yelling or stinking up the place or pulling everything out of the cupboards. My hair’s a mess. All my clothes smell bad. I’m losing my mind and I need to get out of here. Do you hear me?! I want OUT of here, Gerry!”

“Then go! How about the resort? Hire a cab or get Cavell to take you. Go shopping. Go dancing. Eat out at a fancy place.” I lowered my voice, took a deep breath and said softly, “Tomorrow’s Friday and I’m off work until 2 in the afternoon on Saturday. I’ll take care of Daniel.”

“Well, then…” she sputtered. “Well, then I will! I’m going to do it. And what if I decide I like it down there too much to come back so soon? I need more than a day. I need a week or two, at least. I need a real vacation. This is hard work, you know, taking care of him.”

“If that’s what you decide, then I’ll hire a nanny. Daniel’s a strong boy. He’ll be OK, although he’ll miss you.”

“Hardly!” she snorted. “He hates me.”

Daniel’s mom, I realized, was feeling hugely put-upon and lonely. Both of us were worn out, and not inclined to give each other comfort. Maybe it was time to pay a little attention to my wife, so I stepped forward and put my arms around her. She went stiff as a board at first, but then started to cry, and I held her there, rocking slightly side to side as I did so often with Daniel, until she had calmed down.

I said, “Take the break that you need. Get away from us for a while. And…er…there’s a handkerchief in my back pocket.”

“Don’t need it now. Your shirt’s a mess, anyway. Did you wear this to work, all wrinkled like that?”

“Yeah, they sent me to a class. I’m thinking of applying for the job of desk sergeant. The pay and the hours are better. We can add another room to the house.”

“Good idea. The kid needs his own room.”

Cavell looked up from his cereal. “A room big enough for two kids. Am I right, Mona?”

Clarabelle pushed me away, made a rude gesture toward Cavell, and sat down on the sofa to watch TV. The volume was turned up too loud but Daniel didn’t wake up. He must be used to it. After all, he had just slept through an argument between his parents.

Cavell and Clarabelle left for the resort early on Friday morning and I spent the day quietly with Daniel. He seemed undisturbed by the change in the routine, a day spent with Dad instead of Mom, and played happily with his toys while I scrubbed out the refrigerator and cleaned the grease off the kitchen counters.

Later, while he was napping, I took a shower and hung some laundry on lines that I strung outside. The snow had melted and the ground was muddy, but the chilly air somehow tasted of spring.

I enjoyed the day very much.

That night I slept on the couch, and Daniel slept soundly until almost dawn. He was eating well and growing fast. We definitely needed more space.

The following morning I decided to arrange for a nanny, just in case Clarabelle did not get back in time. And she didn’t. As I left Daniel with the strange, elderly woman and went out to Marylena’s cruiser I told myself not to worry. Clarabelle would be fine. Daniel would be fine. Just do your job today, I told myself. But it was almost more than I could stand.

At the end of my shift, Marylena dropped me off and asked what I was so jumpy about. “You’ve been antsy all day. Are you having troubles at home? And don’t say it’s none of my business. I have to be able to depend on you to watch my back.”

“Real sorry, Marylena. I just like to see how much Daniel has learned today while I was at work. He’s almost walking. I’ve been helping him. And he knows some words, too, like Dad. I’m sure of it, that he’s calling me Dad, now.”

Marylena snorted, “You’re yanking my chain, right? Never mind, don’t let me keep you. But I expect your full attention tomorrow, or I‘ll be putting in a request for a change of partners. Got it?”

I nodded, jumped out of the cruiser, and ran through the rocks to the house. I opened the door and saw Clarabelle handing a bottle to a very sleepy Daniel. I almost laughed aloud with relief.

“Hey, you’re back!” I said. “How was the resort?”

“I want to move there. I looked at apartments today. There are some good ones, not too expensive, overlooking the bay.”

“It’s an idea. As soon as we get the inheritance, we can do that.”

She frowned. “Explain to me exactly why we need the inheritance? You’ve got the land, right? The gold’s in the land. Let’s just dig it up right now.”

“We need equipment to dig it up. The gold is buried deep. We can’t afford either the equipment or the people to run that equipment until we get the inheritance.”

“I’m beginning to doubt this story about gold. I met your Uncle Fredek. I think he made the whole thing up. If it were true about the gold, that greasy little miser would have been here himself, digging it up.”

“Maybe you’re right. We’ll hire our own geologists and find out for ourselves if it’s true.”

“You bet we will, especially before we spend any money on useless machines.”

Daniel was obviously bored with our discussion. He threw his bottle across the floor and lifted his arms, wanting attention.

I picked him up, gave him a hug and set him in his crib. Clarabelle came up behind me and slid her arms around my waist, a move that took me completely by surprise. She’d been avoiding my touch ever since Daniel was born.

Now, as the child lay down and closed his eyes, I turned around toward Clarabelle. She leaned against me and whispered, “Cavell’s not here, and the kid is already asleep. Why don’t you come into the bedroom with me? Hmm?”

I hesitated, still puzzled by this change in her behavior. “You smell real nice. Did you get some new perfume? I like it.”

“Oh, I bought all kinds of things, Honey,” she smiled. “Come and see.”

She was back, the old Clarabelle, the one I’d first met at the bar. And I couldn’t think of a single reason why I shouldn‘t go and see what she wanted to show me.

I just wish I could remember what it was.

Have you ever been caught in that unpleasant zone between wake and sleep which is not quite one nor the other? For instance, you know that you have been asleep, and you also know for a fact that you are almost awake, but you can’t move in either direction. Worse, you can’t move at all. Your muscles won’t obey.

When it happened to me, I thought the house was on fire. The heat was intense and getting worse. I tried to wake up. I tried to shout out. I couldn’t move. Daniel! In my head, without any sound from my lips, I shouted his name, convinced that the house was burning and that he would burn to death. It was the worst nightmare I have ever experienced.

And it kept coming back, that nightmare. And I kept trying to wake up. I was trapped inside that zone yet again when I heard a voice.

“Gerry! Open your eyes and look at me.”

Who was that? It sounded a lot like…

“I haven’t got all day to stand around here. I’ve got things to attend to, and so do you. Open your eyes.”

Roberta! Damn! I must be in serious trouble. I’d probably lost my job, which was beyond depressing, since I liked the police work. Now I’d just have to start all over in something else. Dreading the confrontation, I opened my eyes.

I could barely see who it was who stood there. My vision was blurred.

I blinked and struggled to focus. After a few desperate moments my eyesight cleared. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“No need to say anything, Gerry. They kept telling me you were not awake yet, but I didn’t believe them, so I came over to see for myself. Obviously, no one could be bothered to get you up. Too busy doing whatever, I don’t know what. Anyway, it‘s time, young man. You‘ve got to face it sooner or later. You‘ve been in bed too long.”

I managed to get my throat to work, “Wha…?” I croaked.

“So who did it? We have to take care of this business as soon as possible.”

I started to shake my head, then remembered Daniel and my nightmare about a fire. I started to get up, alarmed, “Dan…! Daniel!”

I was suddenly surrounded by people I didn’t know, all wearing hospital uniforms. I tried to fight them off but my limbs were as useless as spaghetti noodles. That’s not something I’m used to, and it was almost as appalling as the nightmare.

Roberta yelled over their heads, “Gerry! The baby’s fine. He’s just fine, so calm down.”

I stopped trying to move, and lay there panting and exhausted, and soaked with sweat because of the pain. It was everywhere. I couldn’t figure out the source. I closed my eyes, trying to escape it.

Someone was talking to Roberta. I couldn’t hear what they talked about. My heart was pounding too loudly, filling my ears.

I was in a hospital! I’d obviously been unconscious for some length of time, and I had absolutely no idea why. There must have been an accident. I wondered if Marylena was OK, if the accident had been in the cruiser.

Roberta moved closer and started talking to me again. “She wants me to leave. She says I’m upsetting you too much and that you’re about to burst right out of your stitches. But I need some answers, Gerry. It’s important. Who was it? Your brother?”

I started shaking my head, “No! No!” I opened my eyes and stared hard into hers, anxious to convince her that Cavell was not a factor in anything that might have happened.

“Do you know who it was? Did you see him? Or her?”

“I don’t…” my throat was so dry and sore I could hardly make it work. “I don’t…remember…anything. Is Marylena…OK?”

Roberta leaned over me, studying my face. “Marylena? What’s she got to do with it? OK, Gerry, I get it. The doctor said this was possible, that you’d lose a big chunk of time leading up to the fight, that you wouldn’t remember anything about it. I was hoping it wouldn’t be so, but it may still come back to you. Keep trying to remember what happened. It’s extremely important, because whoever it was might try it again. We really do need to find out who pushed you off the cliff.”

...ooh, I've had a lot of catching up to do.

Forget about having a bad day, or week, Gerry seems to be having a bad decade the way things are going! Poor guy, I hope his fortunes improve soon. (Or at least eventually.) Daniel is very cute. I also hope we eventually see more of Tina/Tamara/Christy and the others.

I had a regular supply of visitors, most of them only a vague blur of noise, since I slept most of the time. I remember Waylon Fairchild dropping by, as well as my former supervisor from the electric plant, Leo.

Since I was feeling sore and grouchy, I was not good company and neither one stayed more than a minute.

Marylena stopped in a couple of times. And every time she came, she’d look around the small hospital room with disgust and shake her head, “You should get out of here, Gerry. Fresh air and exercise will do you better than lying around in bed.” Of course, every time she said it, I’d laugh. Which hurt. Exercise would have to wait.

The surprise visitor was Tina.

“Hello, Gerry” she said, so quietly I could barely hear it.



Maybe it was because I was laid up in a hospital bed and she didn’t like being here, but it was still a mighty weak hello from someone who’d always been so sure of herself.

I grinned at her, “Hi, Tina! How’re things? Um…did that sound stupid? I think I left my brains on the mountain. Soon as I’m on my feet I plan to go and get them, put them back in the pan, and be my old self again.”

I thought she’d laugh at my joke. Instead, she just stared at me and said, "Who was it?" When I didn't answer, she leaned closer and lowered her voice even more. "Roberta told me that someone pushed you over the cliff. Please tell me who it was, Gerry. Tell me it wasn't Joe."

So that's it, I thought. She's worried about Joe. I said wearily, "I don't know who it was, Tina. I don't remember, but I doubt it was Joe because if the two of us had faced off on the edge of a cliff, it wouldn't have been me they found at the bottom. So you can stop worrying about him. He won't go to jail on my account."

She shook her head, "I'm not worried about him." Then she smiled a little and said, "Take care of yourself, Gerry, and stay safe." Turning abruptly away from the bed, she left the room. I could never get it straight, how to talk to Tina without getting it all wrong. Gerry, I told myself, you won’t find any brains on the mountain because you never had any to start with.

That’s when I noticed Christy standing there, her eyes following Tina’s hurried exit. I hadn’t even realized that they’d come in together. Christy came over to take Tina’s place beside my bed. “It’s not anything you’ve said,” she smiled. “She’s just worried about other things. You’re looking better, believe it or not. Much better than the last time I saw you. I suppose you might not remember that visit since you slept through it.” Then her smile disappeared and she took a deep breath, “Gerry, I feel badly about the way I behaved when you told me you got married. I apologize. We’re still friends, I hope.”

“You bet!” I was man in need of friends these days.

Her smile returned, “Good. Now, I’d better go check up on Tina. We’ll be back, maybe tomorrow. See you then.”

She left the room and I stared into the empty space where the two of them had been standing, puzzling over Tina’s worries. That occupied me for about five minutes. I spent the rest of the time, as I did most days, trying to remember the fight that had ended with me going off the edge of a cliff. So far, the only thing I could remember was the horror of an endless fall. The image flashed through my mind, the same image that would wake me in a sweat in the middle of the night, an image of rock walls moving fast, rising up and out toward the faraway sun in an empty sky. I gasped for breath as I always did, waiting for the certain shock of my body striking the rock at the foot of the cliff. But the memory never went that far.

“And that,” said Dr. Bendett later in the evening, “is because what you think you remember is not exactly how it happened. If it had, you’d certainly be dead. You did not fall from the top of the cliff to its base. That would’ve been impossible, anyway, since the cliff is not straight up and down. The grade is steep, yes, but not perpendicular. As near as the police can determine--and they can‘t determine much because of all the loose rock and debris up there--you landed on the upper face of the grade, very close to the top of the cliff and slid and rolled until you hit the cliff road. Your injuries are consistent with that kind of fall. Waylon found you just after sunset, lying on the road, so cold to the touch he thought at first that you were dead.





"He called the police. They called the medics. The medics called the helicopter.

“Quite a lot of action,” she said grimly “to save the life of a man stupid enough to get into a fight on the edge of a cliff.”

“How do you know I was fighting with someone?”

“You didn’t bloody your knuckles fighting the cliff. And you had bruises that could only have been delivered by a boot wrapped around someone’s foot, probably a male foot, considering its size. So the police have ruled out your wife as a suspect. You may or may not be glad to know that.”

“Of course I am,” I snapped, “because I want the police to leave her alone. When can I get out of here? Tomorrow?”

“I’ll sign the release the day after tomorrow. Two more nights in the hospital, Mr. Zygmunt, but you have to take it easy for another couple of weeks after that. I went to a lot of trouble stitching up all the rips in your vitals, and I don’t want to do any of that hard work all over again.”

The next day, my last in the hospital, was the day that Clarabelle came to visit.

I heard the click of her high heels on the linoleum floor outside my room, and then a firm hand on the doorknob, turning it. The door moved abruptly out of her way as she walked boldly into the room, chin up, hips swaying, a woman who knew her power over men, even me.



Daniel’s frazzled mother was gone, and in her stead, Clarabelle had arrived, gloriously ablaze in new clothes and red hair. There must have been one or two men in the hall out of my line of sight, because she glanced over her shoulder and winked at someone. Then she walked over and stopped in front of the wheelchair where I sat.

She crossed her arms, “How are you, Gerry? Are they treating you well here?”



“Yes, of course. Where’s Daniel? Why didn‘t you bring him with you?”

She snorted, “What’s this? Aren’t you going to say ‘Hello, poor little Clarabelle?’ I deserve some loving words from you after what I‘ve been through, Darling Husband, with those dreadful police friends of yours. Don‘t you even want a kiss? Well, you can forget it if you do, because you are not getting one. Not today, since you’re being so nasty.”

“Where’s Daniel, Clarabelle?”

“At home, you idiot, where he belongs. I hired that same dreadful old lady you’ve hired in the past.”

“Take it easy. I’ve had some nightmares about Daniel and a fire. And as I am trapped in this little room with nothing else to think about I’m going a little crazy. I really want to see him.”

“I’m not bringing a baby into a hospital. The place is loaded with monster bugs lurking on every shiny white surface. And your shack has not caught fire, but it’s an idea you should consider, if you have insurance on it.”

“That’s a dangerous joke that’ll get the attention of the police again. Aren’t they leaving you alone now? Have they stopped coming around?”

“No, they haven’t stopped coming around. What else have they got to do in Yokelville?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? Calling this town by every ugly name I can think of? I can leave, they said, and so I am. I’ve signed a lease on an apartment down at the resort. The truck is arriving tomorrow to collect the furniture. Whenever you get out of here, you’ll find me and Daniel at the Quinby Arms Apartments, 2nd floor. The second floor is hotter than the first floor, but you get the sea breeze with less dust.”

“I can’t move there. I have to stay on the property, for the inheritance. So do you. So does Daniel.”

“You can join us, Gerry, or not. It’s your choice, but I’ve had enough of this burg. I‘m getting out. Daniel is your first-born and he will end up with the inheritance. And when he does, so do I. So he stays with me.”

I was standing up by now, desperate to convince her. “We’ll fix up the house as nice as you want it. I swear to you that as soon as I get home I’ll take care of it. It’ll be done by the end of the month.”

“Fix it up all you want. I don’t care. I’m leaving. This town is dead. The resort has dancing and nightclubs and my kind of people.”

“No! I’ll get Daniel back. I’ll sue for custody.”

“No you won’t.” She turned away from me and went to the window.



“You know I will!”

“No. You won’t! The resort has something else you should know about, and that’s a good clinic and a good doctor for children. I’m pregnant again, Gerry, and I have absolutely no intention of giving birth in a broken down shack attended by the Zygmunt brothers.”



“Pregnant?” I almost choked on the word. “Not by me. Who is it? Who is the father?”

“You evil man!” she turned on me angrily.



“Who!” I yelled at her.

The phony anger slid into a crooked smile. “Not sure, Hon. Could be you. Whether you remember the night or not, you definitely got your two cents in. Or it could be Cavell. You should know what your brother is like, and I was his wife for quite a few years. Anyhow, he surprised me in the shower one day.” Her cheeks flushed as she bit down on her lip, and then, after a second or two, she shook herself. “But really, does it matter which of you did the deed, as long as the kid has Zygmunt blood pumping through its little heart?”

I stared at her, “Cavell?”

“As I said, he caught me by surprise. There wasn’t much I could do about it.”

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Where was Daniel while you and Cavell were…”

She snorted, “I’ll be damned! You hypocrite! Look at you, all in a sweat about the money! Or is it Daniel? Or could it possibly be because I was raped by your brother? Who knows? I certainly can’t figure out what really matters to you. Seems to depend on which way the wind blows. Out of the east, it’s time to love Daniel. Out of the west, it’s time to love money. Cut the crap and recognize that all you really care about is yourself. Hells bells, and you think you’re better than me! Don’t kid yourself. Goodbye, Gerry.”

She turned and walked out of the room without a backward glance.

I sat down slowly in the wheelchair. When I heard the door open again hardly a minute later, I did not even look up.

The feet that walked into view were not Clarabelle’s, but they belonged to a woman. She said, “Was that your wife I saw come out of here? I thought I knew what your wife looked like. Did she color her hair?”

I forced myself to smile for Roberta, “Yes. She did.”

“You’re not looking well, Gerry. Dr. Bendett said she was going to release you tomorrow, but I’ll speak to her about keeping you here a few more days.”

“Never mind that. I’m leaving today. In a few minutes. As soon as I catch my breath.”

Roberta sniffed, “Got you all riled up, did she? Looks like the type, I‘ll be honest with you, Gerry. But I‘m not here about your wife. I just stopped by to see if you‘ve remembered anything more about the fight.”

I shook my head.

“So, I’m going to mention a few names, in no particular order and for no particular reason. I have no suspicions about any of them. I just want to see if they mean anything to you beyond the obvious, that you know them or have met them. This is not scientific, by the way. It could even get us in trouble, you and me, if we mention this exercise outside this room. So it’s just between you and me. Got that?”



“Go right ahead, but I don’t expect it to help. I can’t remember anything at all. I’ve tried.”

“George McCarthy.”

I smiled, “General store clerk and high school kid.”

“Vencel Domokos.”

I rolled my eyes, disgusted, "Shyster."

“Brandi Ying.”

“Don’t know her.”

“Waitress at Arlo’s. Neville Machk.”

“Clarabelle’s idiot brother.”

“Ben Long.”

I squinted at her. The name was familiar. Then I knew who it was, “Tamara’s boyfriend.” I shrugged casually as I remembered the encounter in town when he held my arms as Tina’s boyfriend punched me.

“Fredek Zygmunt.”

“I saw the old man buried. I thought you were serious about this.”

“I am, Gerry. Cavell Zygmunt.”

“I’m tired of this game. It’s not helping either you or me.”

“Waylon Fairchild.”

“Of course not.”

“Donald Fritjof.”

“I have no idea who that is.”

“He drove you up the cliff road when you first arrived in Chesterport.”

“OK, sure.”

“Leo Varvarinski.”

“Foreman at the electric plant,” I said impatiently.

“Joe Carr.”

“A thug.”

“Did you fight with him?”

“No, I didn’t!”

“I’ve heard otherwise.”

“He’s a jerk who hangs around Tina Scott and thinks he owns her, but I didn’t fight him. If anyone said otherwise, he’s lying.”

“You mean Tina? Is she lying? Joe has disappeared. He’s been gone for a couple of weeks, ever since Waylon found you on the cliff road. Tina came to me wringing her hands and crying because she believes that Joe is the one who tried to kill you. What do you think?”

“As I told Tina, if it had been Joe, I’d have beat the crap out of him and he’d have been the one you found on the cliff road.”

Roberta laughed.

I said, “Why didn’t you just ask me about him right at the beginning? You do suspect him, don’t you.”

“I just want to talk to him, and I will, as soon as we find him. I have a meeting at the police station to go to now, Gerry. Give yourself a break and stay here for another couple of days.”

I didn’t answer her. She patted my shoulder and left. Ten minutes later I got up out of the wheelchair, found my clothes in a cabinet and put them on, grateful to whoever had laundered them. It was my police uniform. The walky-talky and gun were gone, of course, but that didn’t matter. And no one tried to stop me as I left the hospital.

There was a patrolman in a cruiser parked along the street in front of the hospital. I recognized him, “Greg! Are you waiting for someone?”

“You, as it happens. Roberta told me to keep an eye out. She thought you might leave the hospital this morning. Get in. I‘ll drive you home.”

“Thanks.” I sat down carefully, refusing to admit that my legs were shaking. “I lost my cell phone and don’t have a dime to call a cab. Thought I’d have to walk.”

“From Chesterport to Hazelton?”

“If I had to, maybe by way of the cliff road.”

“We could go that way now, if you’d like. Do you think it would help you remember what happened?” Greg hadn’t yet moved the car away from the curb. He pulled off his sunglasses and looked over at me.

I was annoyed, “Does everyone in town know that I can’t remember anything?”

“Roberta thought it best if everyone knew. The killer will think himself safe for a little while longer and might not try again, at least not before we figure out who it is.”

“Killer? Shit, Greg, do you think you’re holding conversation with a ghost?”

He didn’t smile or look embarrassed, “I hope not, Gerry.” He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. “I suggest we take a look at the cliff road starting at the top. If you’re up to it, we can walk down, only a few hundred yards, to where Waylon found you.”

“Sure.” I leaned back in the seat, took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment, thinking. Yes, it was possible that someone had tried to get rid of me by pushing me over the cliff. Or maybe not. “You know,” I said aloud, “it’s possible that I just slipped on a loose rock. It might have been an accident.”

“A loose rock wearing hiking boots? We saw pictures of the bruise in the middle of your chest. He kicked hard. The man was angry.”

“Could have happened anytime before I fell. I could have been in a fight and then walked away from it, gone home, had a cup off coffee, walked out to the cliff, and slipped over.”

“Do you remember a fight or not?”

“Nothing. Absolute zero. An entire day out of my life seems to have been erased.”

“Then I’m going to continue to believe what Roberta and the doctor believe, someone kicked you over the edge.”

“Fine. But if the only witness is me, we have a problem.”

It took about 45 minutes to get from Chesterport to Hazelton going the sensible way, by way of Route 37 through the Gap. Greg seemed occupied by his own thoughts, so I kept my eyes closed and may even have dozed, although I had stopped taking the painkillers two days earlier. I didn’t need them and didn‘t like taking them. My broken rib was firmly strapped and my broken arm just itched like hell. As for the ache in my middle, I decided that it was more emotional than physical.

Of all the things that worried me, it was Cavell’s attack on Clarabelle that angered me most. I’d seen the old scars on her chest and belly, one of them clearly the mark of a knife, and I almost groaned aloud at the thought that he would do that to anyone, but especially to his wife. And now, she was pregnant again. How could she be so stupid as to move away from me? What was she thinking? Alone with two small children? How could she take care of them and herself, too? Stupid! So stupid!

“Gerry, is this the place?”

I opened my eyes and rubbed at them. “Yes. This is it.”

He turned off the engine as I got out of the car. I wanted to run around the rocks to the house, but I’d spent too long flat on my back. My legs would not have sustained the effort, so I walked.

The air was warm. I saw a handful of butterflies move down the road in search of flowers. The gravel underfoot was damp from a recent Spring rain. Of course, none of this changed the fact that the peninsula known as Strangers’ Moon to some was still a grey and dreary place. As a matter of fact, I thought it looked a lot better when it was buried under snow.

I saw the house, the cold shack of stone that Clarabelle hated so thoroughly. I hoped the reason that her blue van was gone was because Cavell had it. I hoped she was inside packing and that Daniel was playing with his rabbit. I hoped he’d open his arms and welcome me.

I was wrong in every way.



Greg left me alone in the empty house and went outside to look around the property. I reached for the rabbit,

and then changed my mind. I’d get Daniel all new toys as soon as I joined them. And join them I would. I was through with Ibolya and my miserly uncle. I didn’t need the money. I needed Daniel. Daniel didn’t need the money. He needed me. As for Clarabelle, I suspected that she was a puzzle I would never solve. Too many missing pieces.

Greg came around from the side of the house and stood next to me. We stared out toward the crumbling edge of the cliff, listening to the quiet. A couple of large birds drifted lazily around and around, apparently enjoying an updraft of air coming from the sea.

I said, “Was there any evidence of a fight?”

Greg shook his head, “We’ve examined that muddy stretch of dirt every which way anyone could possibly examine it. Unfortunately, the rescue crew and the helicopter showed up about the same time we did, and churned it into a big mess. We couldn’t find anything at all--no shoe or boot prints in the mud that weren’t our own.” He paused and looked at me, “Are you up for a walk down the road?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.” I was exhausted, actually, but the gap in my memory was like looking into a monster-filled abyss. They were down there at the very edge of the darkness, unseen but ready to reach up and pull me in if ever I dared to turn my eyes away. I wanted to see them. I strained to see them. And I was afraid to see them. I took a deep breath and walked toward where the road came up over the edge of the cliff. Greg followed, moving slow, matching his pace to mine.

Them?

I realized suddenly that I had been thinking of monsters in the plural. Had I fought more than one man? Or was my pride resisting the idea that one man alone had nearly killed me? And why had I started thinking of them as monsters and not just as men, or a man? Was it only a bump on the head that had erased a piece of my life? Or would remembering who it was be more awful than not knowing? I forced myself to think of everyone in town that I knew, mentally examining each face and each name. I added more names to Roberta’s list. But none of them were monsters, except Cavell. Maybe he was the one who had tried to kill me. It was logical. As Clarabelle had said, if I died, my estate would settle immediately on all their heads. Gold or no gold, there was a lot of money to be had.

We started walking down the road. It was gravelly and narrow, with an occasional stone wall built along its edge. The reason for the wall could only have been to guide the rare traveler, because it was certainly inadequate protection from a long fall. I briefly recalled the ride up this road in Mr. Fritjof’s car on my first day here and swallowed uncomfortably. Never again.

The sun was growing hotter on my bare head, so after we had walked a few more yards I stopped and leaned over the wall, resting my hands on its dusty stone as I squinted down toward the rocks far below and let a warm breeze dry the sweat on my face. I saw more of our dangerous little road as it wound back and forth along the cliff, growing smaller and smaller with distance. When I stepped back and stared straight ahead, I could just barely see, between breaks in the wall of the gorge, a sparkle of blue. It was the harbor of Chesterport.

Greg put a hand on my shoulder, “Want to rest for a moment?”

“Nope. Just thinking. It’s quite a view from here, but it hasn’t helped me remember anything yet. Let’s keep going down to where Waylon found me.”

Nothing about the place looked familiar or stirred any memories. I sighed, frustrated, and stooped to pick up a bit of clear plastic.

Greg took it from my hands and held it up to the light, “Ah, just something the medics left behind. Too bad.” He twisted it absently around in his fingers while studying the cliff wall and the sky. I gazed wearily into the distance, looking at nothing, concentrating on the faint odor of the sea, trying to remember.

Greg mumbled, “What are those dumb birds doing? There’s nothing to eat around here.”

I grimaced and glanced up, “What are they? Seagulls?”

Greg laughed, “No. Vultures. But maybe it’s a dying seagull that they’re after. There are certainly plenty of them in Chesterport.”

“Or maybe they’re waiting for me. I should have been dinner. They’re probably annoyed.”

Greg walked over to the wall and look over. He was quiet for a minute, and then turned around. “There’s a little shade over there, Gerry. Have a seat out of the sun and rest yourself. I’m going to go further down the road. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I agreed. I was now so tired it was an effort to sit down and not fall down. The shade was scant, but at least the sun was not on my head. I closed my eyes and listened to the wind moving up the cliff.

I don’t know how much time passed before I heard Greg coming back. He sat down next to me with a grunt. He was covered in dust.

“Found something,” he said, and scratched at his chin.

“What?”

“I think it’s Ben Long. At least, so far as I can tell from the clothes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Vultures,” he said. He swallowed uncomfortably. “It’s ugly. He’s obviously been there for a while and there isn’t much left except bones and clothes, which is why the lab will have to prove it’s him, but I’m betting that’s who it is…was.”

“Poor Tamara,” I said with a groan. “Didn’t anyone wonder where he’d got to? Reported him missing?”

“Nope. At least not to the police. But there’s something else I think you should know.”

“What is it?”

“The skull has a bullet hole right between the eyes.”

The words were hardly out of his mouth when a terrifying image flashed in front of my eyes. I yelled out, “Daniel!” and staggered to my feet. When Greg stood up, looking concerned, I grabbed the front of his shirt with both fists, almost tearing it from his chest, “Take me to the resort! Now! Now! I have to find them!”

“Easy there, Gerry. We’ll go with sirens and lights all the way.” His own hands had closed around the cast on my left arm. “But I can’t move until you let go.”

I loosened my fingers and so did he. I started running back up the road, fueled only by adrenalin, hardly thinking clearly or I would not have been so terrified for Daniel.

Greg followed closely, occasionally grabbing my arm as I stumbled, but without saying a word until we were up on the plateau and headed for the cruiser. Then he spoke loudly enough to get through the mental noise of my panic, “They’re safe, Gerry. Both of them.”

I kept going, “Then why did she lie? She said she was leaving tomorrow, not today. They should have been here.”

“Gerry!” He moved around in front of me to block my way.

I shoved at him, trying to get past, “He had him, Greg! He had him at the edge…at the edge of the cliff.” I could hardly catch my breath and choked on the word, “Daniel.”

“Daniel is safe, Gerry! Didn’t Roberta tell you that? He’s just fine. So is your wife. We have them under surveillance. We’ve been keeping an eye on them all along, ever since Waylon found you. It’s Marylena, in fact, who’s watching them now. We’ll call her from the car.”

I nodded, still breathing hard, but calming down a little, “OK. We’ll call her, but I have to see them as soon as possible. I’ll talk to Marylena on the way.”

I fell into the car seat and fumbled with the radio while Greg fastened my seat belt and his, and then started the engine. As we headed down the road, I reached Marylena. She assured me that she had just seen Clarabelle carrying Daniel into the apartment building. They’d spent the morning playing in the beach sand across the highway.

“Thanks, Marylena. Clear.”

As I put the mike in its cradle and rubbed the sweat from face, Greg said, “I assume you still want to go.”

“I’m moving in with them.”

My clothes were soaked with sweat. My arm under the cast itched like crazy. My heart was racing and my ribs hurt. I was in bad shape. Everyone kept assuring me that Daniel was safe, but I still needed to hold him in my arms. Maybe then I could stop worrying and be rid of the nightmares.

Greg’s cruiser flew down the highway but without the siren or flashing lights. He just went fast. There wasn’t much traffic anyway.

After a few minutes, he said casually, “You remember now, don’t you.”

“Some of it. I remember finding Daniel playing in the rain puddle next to the door. I picked him up and he put his hands on my face. And he laughed. I think it was because of the mud he’d gotten all over me. Then Clarabelle’s brother, Neville, took Daniel from my arms because…” I struggled to understand the memory. It was more like trying to remember a dream. “…because I was talking to someone. It was Ben…and…and Joe Carr! Joe was there, too.” I stopped.

Greg glanced over at me, “Is that it? Do you remember if one of them had a gun? Or did one of them take your gun?”

“I don’t remember anything about that. The only other thing I remember right now is that we all ended up near the cliff. I don’t know why. But I know that I wanted Neville to take Daniel back to the house. I’m fairly sure that I was yelling at him to take Daniel back to the house, but he just stood there, close to the edge, playing with the baby, tossing him in the air.” I pressed a hand over my eyes, shuddering with the memory.

“Was your wife there?”

“I don’t think so. I have the feeling that she was not home. Maybe she left Daniel with her brother and went out for groceries or something.”

“And you couldn’t take the baby away from Neville yourself?”

“I couldn’t move. I wanted desperately to take Daniel away from him, but I couldn’t move.”

“We can assume that Ben and Joe were responsible for that. Probably had you by the arms. Sounds like the three of them were playing some sort of nasty game and it got uglier than they intended. Anyway, we’ll be at the resort in about half an hour. You’ll see that Daniel is none the worse for all his adventures, and I’ll buy you the drink you so clearly need.”

I laughed weakly, “No one ever mentioned that having a kid would be so scary.”

“Would that have stopped you?”

“Probably not.”

More incredible updates This is so intriguing!

You know, I have to be honest. You lost me once Cavell showed up. I was really digging Gerry's relationships with the women of Hazelton and how everyone would finally catch up to the imposter wife. Then Cavell shows up, Gerry's blackmailed into marrying the imposter shrew and the reading got much harder to stomach. Hopefully, Lynet, your next story won't veer away from me so sharply. Because you clearly have a strong creative mind and can write well. It's just creative differences between writer and reader that have lead to me basically drop this story.

Sorry to hear that you don't want to read any more of this story, Cappyboy. Thank you for your comments.

The landscape changed color as we neared the resort. The grey clay of the north country changed to sand, but the land was just as barren. I saw an occasional twisted tree. Then I saw the buildings. Greg pointed out a couple of high rise condos at the far end of the small town. And small it was. For all the fuss about it, I had expected more. Then I remembered that One Fried Egg was only three buildings, so yes, the resort was huge by comparison.

We drove past a roller rink and a nightclub. Greg made a left turn and passed a few houses. Two right turns later and next door to the town’s best restaurant, Rochelles’s, we pulled up in front of a two-story L-shaped building.

Greg turned to me, “This is it. You want the second floor. The stairs are at the far end. I’m going to talk to Marylena.”

I was out of the car in a flash.

Clarabelle stood in front of the door to the apartment, looking annoyed.

“Didn’t expect to see you so soon, Gerry. The nurse said you’d be in the hospital another couple of days.”

“I stopped by the house and you weren’t there.”

“I told you I was moving.”

What she had told me was that she was moving tomorrow. But I was too tired to argue so I just nodded, “Do you have anything to eat? I’d like something to eat. Greg, too.” I looked over the railing at Greg and Marylena. He waved at me and shouted, “Mary and I are going to catch a bite at the café down the road! I’ll check in with you before I head north.”

Clarabelle mumbled something under her breath.

I suppose I was relieved that Greg was not going to join us. Things were a little awkward with Clarabelle at the moment.

She said, “Grab the baby and put him in the highchair. I’ll fix us a couple of sandwiches.” She turned around, seemed surprised that the door had closed, and flung it open so hard I was afraid the glass would break.

I picked up Daniel again, went inside and settled him in his high chair with a bowl of cereal. Then I sat down at the table and looked around the kitchen. It was large and cheerful. The windows were all open to the warm spring day. This, I thought, is really nice. Truth is, I was just as tired of the damp stone shack on the Ibolya property as Clarabelle was.

I told her that as she set the plate in front of me and sat down with hers.

“Yeah? Well, you’re stuck with it.”

“No, I’m not. I’m going to live here. You, me, Daniel, and the new baby, all together from now on. I’m making enough in my job to support us.”

She shook her head, “You can’t stay here.”

“Yes I can. And I am.”

“You’ll lose everything.”

“Lose what? You mean that nasty piece of land that no one is willing to share with me? What I have that matters is a good job and a beautiful wife and a healthy son who both need me.”

“If you really cared abut your son, you’d stay on that property.”

I picked up my sandwich, bit into it and chewed. She waited grimly, not touching her own sandwich.

I swallowed the tasteless food and said, “Clarabelle, my love, I think you are confused about the terms of my Uncle’s will. To inherit the property and the money I have to live on that property with a wife and kids. I suspect it was my uncle’s way of thumbing his nose at us when he was facing death and realized that he could not buy his way out of it. He expected me to crawl around on my knees, begging some woman, any woman, to marry me. I suppose it amused him to imagine the scene. The bastard knew me too well. But not anymore.”

“Did he know you were a complete idiot?” she snapped. “What happens to the money if you walk away?”

“You already know the answer to that. It goes to Cavell, who’s in jail.” Then I opened my eyes wide, pretending shock. “But wait! He’s not in jail! He escaped jail!” I took another bite of my sandwich.

She frowned, “He didn’t escape. They let him out. He’s on parole.”

“There are rules about being on parole, and he broke them. He didn’t check in with his parole officer, he left the area where he was supposed to set up residence, and he has a gun. He’s broken the law several times over, and when they find him he goes back to jail for the rest of his unnatural life.”

“Which will leave me with the money because I’m his…” Her face got red. My poor Clarabelle is a little slow sometimes, but eventually she figures out the highlights.

“His what, Honey? What are you to Cavell?”

“We have a kid, me and Cavell. She’s living with my mother.”

“Too bad. The third heir to the fortune is Uncle Fredek’s cat. If I forfeit the inheritance because I’ve moved off the property, and Cavell forfeits because he’s a fugitive who doesn’t dare show his face in any court of law in order to claim that inheritance, then Felix the Cat is a very rich cat.”

“You can’t do this to us,” she shouted angrily. “You just can’t! You simple-minded moron, it was so perfect. He was in jail and you were going to get the money because all you had to do was get married and have a couple of kids.”

“And you decided to be the woman I married.”

“Obviously.” She rolled her eyes.

“And then push me off the cliff.”

Her face went white, “No!”

“That wasn’t your idea? But it’s so like you. Perhaps it was Neville’s idea. Or Cavell’s”

“Are you wearing wires, recording this, trying to trap me or something? Your police friends pestered me for days and I told them the truth. I didn’t push you off the cliff. I don’t know who did, but I know it wasn’t Neville, and it wasn’t Cavell, either.”

I studied the beautiful face across the table from me. After a moment, I allowed myself to breathe again and said, “How do you know, Honey, that it wasn’t Neville and it wasn’t Cavell, unless you were there?”

She closed her mouth defiantly, her jaw forward.

I said, “Your brother very nearly killed Daniel, too. It would have ruined the whole plot if he had, don‘t you think.”

She swallowed hard, and now her jaw trembled. She blinked at tears. I did not know what she was crying about and at that moment I did not care. “Cavell,” she whispered. “Cavell stopped him. He shot him. He killed my…” she stammered, “my brother. He…he shot them all.”

“All,” I hesitated, horrified by what I already knew was coming, “All who?”

“N…Neville.”

“Who else?”

She used her sleeve to wipe at her nose, “The other two men. I…I… don’t know who they were.”

“When? On the cliff? Tell me what happened!”

Tears ran freely down her face, but she took a deep breath and said, “He saw them beating on you. He ran over to stop them but he was too late. One of them had already kicked you over the edge. He thought you were dead, so he just shot those two men, picked up their bodies, and threw them off the cliff. It was all so fast and sudden. He just went berserk. I tried to get Daniel away from Neville but Neville was afraid that Cavell would shoot him, too. He started to run back to the house. He still had Daniel. Cavell shot him in the back.” She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering. “Neville stopped running and just stood there for a moment, his back to us, then went down on his knees. I got Daniel from him. The baby was scared, I think, but he didn’t cry, and he wasn’t hurt. Neville fell forward, his face down in the mud. Cavell ran up to us and I yelled at him about Neville and when he picked him up, I thought he was going to take him into the house, but he didn’t. He threw him off the cliff, too. I think he was already dead.” She opened her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t want it to happen. I swear it! And I’m pregnant, you remember. The baby’s yours, I’m sure of it. You have to take care of us.”

We stared at each other.

Outside, under the bright spring sunshine, I heard people talking and laughing about something. The sound slipped in with the breeze through the open windows. It was, for a moment, the only sound in the kitchen.

Then a sudden crash of a noise made both of us jump to our feet and look at Daniel. He laughed at the shock on our faces. He had cereal all over his hair and face and was slapping his hands in a puddle of the mush. His bowl was upside down on the floor at the foot of his highchair.

Clarabelle gagged, pressed a hand over her mouth and ran from the room. I think she made it all the way to the toilet.

I lifted Daniel out of the highchair and sat him on the kitchen counter as I wiped cereal from his head. He squirmed, trying to get down on the floor.

“Hold on there, Dan. I’ll be done in a minute.”

It was a bad job, but we finished up with more cereal on the towel and in the sink than on Daniel, so I set him free. He walked over to a toy that jangled when he pounded on it, and happily sang to himself while he played with it.

Someone knocked on the door to the apartment and opened it a few inches. It was Greg.

“I’m headed back to Hazelton. Are you staying here?”

I nodded, “Yeah. And I’ll call in tomorrow. Thanks for everything, Greg.”

“Sure thing. I’ll let you know what develops. I’m sure there will be questions about what you remember, but that can wait. Marylena will be sticking around if you need anything. Get some rest. You look like hell.” He shut the door and I heard his footsteps on the worn boards of the balcony.

I dropped into a kitchen chair and put my head down on my arm, the one that was not encased in plaster. A black feeling of dread closed in on me and sank through to the bone. My ears were ringing and I realized that it was not Daniel’s toy or the telephone. It was inside my own head. My fingernails dug into the vinyl of the table top. My eyes burned. The world blurred.

I must have dozed. When I woke, stiff-necked and just as tired, the room was dark, and I didn‘t see Daniel. I pushed myself to my feet and peered through the windows along the empty balcony to the moonlit street. Then I heard a rustle of material and went over to the crib in the corner of the kitchen. He was there, in his pajamas and fast asleep. I fought the urge to reach down and put my hand on his head. I knew the touch would wake him.

I went into the other room. It was a small living room. Our couch and TV were there. I moved to the hall and opened the first door. A bathroom. Good, I thought, just in time. I used the toilet. It was a mess and smelled of vomit but I was in no shape to clean it. Instead, with what remaining energy I still had, I filled the tub with hot water and took a bath. It’s not an easy chore when you have to keep one arm away from the water. When done, I made only one attempt to wrap a towel around my waist, failed, and left the towel on the floor. Wearing only the plaster cast on my left arm, I went out into the hall and opened the second door.

Bedroom. Thin white curtains glowed from the light of a fat moon. I walked to the bed and looked down into the sleeping face of my wife.

She was a very beautiful woman, and in her sleep, her face was relaxed and innocent. If she were to open her eyes, though, she’d lose that innocence, because whenever she looked at me, I could see too much of her soul. I could see all the damage there.

I moved away and surveyed the room. There was a clothes cupboard in the corner. I opened the door slowly, trying not to make any noise, and found clothes folded on shelves. I pulled them off the shelves, letting them fall to the floor. Women’s clothes. Men’s clothes, too, but not mine. All of my clothes were back at the house. I found a man’s pajamas and managed to get into the pants.

Whoever the man was, he was not in her bed tonight. I lay down on the empty side of the bed without getting under the covers and let the warm air that came through the open windows move across my bare skin. Exhausted, I closed my eyes and slept.

I opened my eyes.

The room was darker, and I realized it was because the moonlight was gone. The curtains hung limp, not even stirred by a breeze. Beside me, Clarabelle groaned faintly in her sleep, and rolled onto her back. I figured she was reacting to unpleasant dreams. We would both be plagued by those for a long time to come.

I heard the noise again, the noise that had awakened me, the sound of a footstep on the balcony. It was impossible for anyone to walk quietly on those weathered boards.

The bedroom door was open and the hall windows onto the balcony were wide open to the warm night. I could hear everything, even the faint hiss of waves on the beach across the road. And I heard the soft, careful sound of creeping footsteps, receding. I got out of bed quickly, thankful for quiet springs in the mattress. My bare feet made no noise on the carpeting of the bedroom or in the hallway as I hurried to Daniel’s crib. He was there, safe and still asleep.

I went outside onto the balcony, closing the door softly behind me, and walked toward the far end, toward the door to the stairs.

The boards creaked and snapped under my feet and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. Whoever was there surely heard me coming. I hoped that Marylena was nearby, watching the place, but she had no one to spell her and couldn’t be watching the place 24 hours a day. She needed to sleep some time. It was foolish of me, I knew, to hope she might be within shouting distance. And it was both foolish and stupid of me to go hunting for a prowler in my bare feet, half-naked, and with neither backup nor a gun.

I glanced down at my cast. I could probably knock someone out with it, so long as I made the first blow count, and could get close enough.

I already suspected, however, who it must have been. If everything that Clarabelle had told me was true, the only man left standing on the cliff was Cavell.

The hinges to the door to the stairs were well oiled. I slipped into the stairwell and was briefly on carpeting again, and then I was moving down the waxed and silent wood of the stairs, alert for any sound or movement.

Nothing.

I paused for a moment at the door below, took a deep breath, held my cast out a little from my hip, and stepped outside.

No one waited for me.

In the distance I heard the sea slide back and forth over the sand, as monotonous and steady as an old clock. It was the only sound. The sidewalks and streets were empty, lit in rare spots by a streetlamp. The moon was hidden behind a cloud, and all the other residents of town were asleep in that last dark hour before dawn.

I was too restless to go back up to bed and so I stood in the shadows under the balcony overhang, thinking about what I needed to do about my wife and my brother and my obligations to Roberta and Hazelton.

Resigned at last to my decision, I turned to go back inside, and heard him sigh, “Thought you were a ghost, Mary. Nearly shit my pants.”

I faced him slowly, “Clarabelle would have told you I was in the hospital.”

“That woman makes up stuff all the time. You must have figured that out by now.”

I walked out onto the gravel of the yard, glanced up at the stars, and then faced my brother, “I asked her what happened on the cliff?”

He scratched at his cheek, smiling, “What did she say?”

“She said you shot her brother.”

“Tsk, tsk, but didn’t I tell you. I don’t kill people. You can‘t trust her, Mary. It‘s a shame, pretty as she is, but you can‘t trust her.”

“Cavell,” I said carefully, “Did you shoot her brother and those other two men? Did you kill them?”

He shook his head, a strange light in his mad eyes, “What’s knowing the answer to that going to do for you, Kid? Are you going to arrest me? You want a promotion or something? Answer a question for me first. What are you doing here? I hope it’s just a little vacation.”

Telling him the truth of what I was doing here was not a good idea, not now, in the dark, in my bare feet and without defenses of any kind. “That’s right,” was all I said. “I’m still on sick leave.”

“Good. Rest yourself up and get back to the house. Take her with you.” He moved past me toward the road and said only one thing more, in a voice so low I almost didn’t hear it, “I don’t kill people, Mary, but rats? I kill rats all the time.”

Going forward, just want to warn you that there are a fair number of chapters without pictures. I got so involved with writing, that I didn't stop to take the pictures and, well, sims have their babies and get older and all that. There will be pictures, for sure, just less of them. In the meantime, here's a couple. I go to a great deal of trouble to build the sets for my stories. Here are two pictures of the apartment building where Gerry and Clarabelle are living at the moment. I hadn't built the rest of the town before the first picture was taken. Also, the AL EP hadn't come out yet so it wasn't really an apartment at the time I wrote this story, but two families lived there anyway.



And one of the resort's main street:

I have to agree with parts of what cappyboy said. It seems like you painstakingly laid out how things were going to happen with all these girls- and then the fugitive brother shows up and this whirlwind of confusion kind of happened.

I was really lost for a minute and felt the next few chapters were really rushed, but I kept reading because I was intrigued. The suspense has mounted again and I'm interested once more. I like your writing style a lot- which I gotta say is definitely something because stories and writers I've enjoyed are few and far between.

Keep it up! And I hope I don't get sent for a loop again. lol I'll be waiting on the next installment. =]

Thank you, dizzysommer. I'm well aware that my stories won't get much applause from the audience here at MTS. I was surprised by the 4-star rating although I got it before the evil brother showed up. *sigh* Win some/lose some. Anyway, I appreciate that you are hanging in there. I hope you won't be disappointed with the rest of it.

Part of the problem may be that when I start a story I often get bored to death with it. I started this one as a guy-meets-girl soap opera. *snore* But since I write for fun (and we're all here just for the fun of it,) there's no reason why I can't amuse myself by taking a sharp left turn and piling all sorts of troubles on the head of my hero. (I mean, seriously, has anyone here got a check in the mail for writing a story?) Gerry's troubles will get worse before they get better. But he's the good guy, my hero, and he will deal with it. And really, in the end, it's still a soap opera--all about love and relationships.

He had gone too far, and I should have known that he would. Of course, I’d known, but had stupidly hoped that it wouldn’t happen.

Three men dead. Three men. Whether or not Clarabelle had been telling the truth about her own role in that confrontation on the cliff, what she had said about Cavell rang true. Rats. In his mind, three rats. And there would be more. Me, for one.

I stood there on the gravel of the yard, watching him as he walked down the street. I watched him until his dark form had vanished into the night. Then I went back upstairs. I wanted coffee, or something a lot stronger than coffee, although I’d settle for coffee. I’d have to be quiet about making it since Daniel’s crib was in the kitchen, which got me to wondering briefly about the apartment. I’d seen three of the rooms and they were all large, at least when compared to my house.

Stay focused, Zygmunt. Fix coffee. Then call Roberta.

I opened cupboards high and low and could not find the coffee maker. Clarabelle must have left it at the house. I did find a jar of instant. A few minutes later I had a mug of something hot to drink, not exactly coffee, but near enough, and hopefully loaded with caffeine. I sat down at the table where I could watch Daniel’s crib.

I thought about my finances. Not good. I had maybe 200 in the bank. I could be thankful, at least, that I had already paid Roberta everything I owed her. All I had to worry about was the rent for this apartment. And two kids needing clothes and food. And toys, of course. My kids had to have toys.

I pressed a hand to my aching ribcage. It would be several more weeks before the bones healed, so long as I took it easy.

Daniel stirred restlessly but didn’t wake up and I swallowed more of the coffee. OK, the money situation was bad, but not hopeless. The Cavell situation, on the other hand, was my undoing. Sure, I could keep my mouth shut, insisting that I didn’t remember enough of the incident on the cliff to accuse anyone. Then what? Eventually, the other bodies would be found. Worse, Cavell would come around asking why I wasn’t back at the house. And how long would it be before he killed someone else? And when he was caught--not if, but when--I’d be caught too, for harboring an escaped, convicted killer who had killed again.

Three men were dead, and I was just as guilty of their deaths as Cavell. Both of us were headed for prison for a long, long time, leaving Daniel and his baby brother--or sister--alone with Clarabelle. It was a grim future for us all.

The light of the rising sun woke him. He turned his head and smiled at me through the bars of his crib. I set my mug aside, went over to lift him out, and almost dropped him on the floor as my ribcage fought back, stabbing me front and back with pain. Before last night my broken ribs had been strapped so tight I could hardly breathe, but I’d left all that wrapping in the trash can when I had taken a bath. I thought about it and decided not to try to redo those bandages. I also decided not to lift Daniel into his highchair, and fixed him a bottle instead.

“Daniel,” I whispered as he took it from my hands, “no matter what happens, or where I go, I’ll be watching out for you. Remember that. Remember me.”

“What’re you talking about?” Clarabelle said from behind me. “If it’s about going back to the house, then I’m glad you’re going. It’s the only sensible thing to do.”

I stood up to face her, and saw through the window that Marylena was on the balcony walking toward our kitchen door. She wasn’t alone. Roberta was with her.

Good, I thought. Less awkward than a phone call.

“Clarabelle, we have company. Go get dressed, and take Daniel with you.”

For a moment I thought she’d fight me about it, but then she made a face of disgust, picked up Daniel and left the room. I went to the door.

I opened the door wide. “Roberta, Marylena, come in and have a seat. I’m afraid I can’t offer you much. There’s instant coffee.”

Roberta paused in the doorway and looked around the kitchen, “Instant coffee? The stuff in a jar? I don’t need anything, but I can’t speak for Marylena.” She ended her study of the kitchen with a sharp glance at me. “You’re not dressed, Gerry. Why don’t you go take care of that. We’ll wait.”

“I’m fine. I’d rather get this over with.” I pulled out a chair and sat down.

Roberta blinked, then shrugged, “As you wish.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said, “although I’m surprised.”

She nodded, and sat down across the table from me. “I spoke to Greg. He says you’ve remembered what happened. I’m the sheriff, as well as the mayor, if you recall, and now it’s a murder investigation. Marylena offered to drive you up to the station, but I have to see some people down the road anyway.” She straightened up and sniffed, “Greg also said that your wife moved all the furniture here. Is that true?”

I lifted my chin, “It’s true. We’re not going back to my uncle’s property.”

Marylena looked puzzled as she wrote my statement down in her notebook.

Roberta frowned, “You’re giving it up? Your inheritance?”

“No, he’s not.” Clarabelle walked into the room with Daniel on her hip. “He’s staying at the house. Didn’t you just say that, Gerry? Don’t shake your head at me! I heard you talking to Daniel!”

“I was not talking about the house.”

Daniel squirmed in her arms and she set him down. He went for the noisy toy in the corner and began pounding on it. Clarabelle’s voice rose to a higher, louder pitch, “Yes, you were! What else could you possibly have been talking about?”

“Prison.”

“What? But you didn’t…” she stopped speaking and chewed on her lip. In the corner of the kitchen Daniel sang to himself and banged rhythmically on the metal keys of his toy.

Roberta pointed at the chair next to mine, “Sit down, Ms. Zygmunt.”

Clarabelle obeyed. I noticed that her hands were trembling.

Roberta turned to me, “Prison, Gerry? Why?” Then she held up her hand. “Don’t answer that…forget I asked. We’d best just start at the beginning. Tell me what happened on the cliff?”

“Before I tell you about that there’s something else I have to do first. Marylena, I need a sheet of paper from your notebook.”

Clarabelle was staring at me. I hoped she knew I had every intention of protecting her, and that I wanted her to keep her mouth shut.

I took the paper and the offered pen and wrote quickly. I handed the pen back to Marylena. I handed the paper to Roberta, “It’s my resignation from the police force.” She read it, folded it in thirds, and slipped it into a pocket in her jacket.

Marylena was about to protest, but Roberta stopped her. “We will discuss this later,” she said. “Now, the cliff.”

I took a deep breath, “Greg found a body below the cliff. He believes it was Ben Long. Is that true? Was it Ben?”

“It’s Ben.”

I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them and said firmly, “There are two more. They are Joe Carr and my wife’s brother, Neville Machk. Cavell Zygmunt killed them. My brother is a psychopath and extremely dangerous. He is armed. He has been in Hazelton for several months now. I know this because he has been staying at my house. I believe he is now somewhere in the resort. I saw him here last night.”

Clarabelle’s eyes were wide with shock. Under the table I put my hand on hers and squeezed it firmly, hoping to reassure her. Marylena was scribbling furiously in her notebook, and when she glanced up at me she shook her head slightly in dismay. Roberta had leaned back in her chair and looked angry. But it was Clarabelle’s face she studied, and not mine.

Still watching Clarabelle, she said, “Did you see him shoot those men?”

“Yes,” I said, and shifted in my chair, trying to get Roberta’s eyes on me instead of Clarabelle.

“Did he kick you over the cliff?”

“No. I got into a fight with those men. That must have been when one of them kicked me, but I don’t remember which one. Cavell came home, saw the fight and started shooting at all of us. I fell over the cliff trying to escape him. It happened very fast, within seconds. When Greg found Ben’s body, I started to remember, and then remembered the rest of it last night. I did not see Cavell throw the bodies over the cliff, but since he did so with Ben, I assume he did the same with the others, and that you will find them if you search below the cliff.”

“Why would he shoot you? You’ve been giving him shelter and support.”

“For the inheritance. He’s apparently decided that it will save time if I‘m dead. He’ll get the inheritance sooner, or so he thinks, but doesn’t seem to understand that he’s a fugitive and can’t claim it without me.”

“And he only recently made this decision to eliminate you?”

I shrugged and looked down at my hands, “He’s crazy.”

Roberta stood up from the table. “Officer Hamilton,” she said, “go out to your car and call for two more officers down here. I want surveillance around the clock. Don’t tell them why, not over the radio. Wait until they get here. I expect that Cavell Zygmunt is nearby and will try to finish what he started.” As Marylena left, Roberta turned to me, “I have to arrest you, Gerry, for aiding a fugitive and, I'm afraid, as an accessory to murder because of it. I am sorry you didn’t come to me immediately when he first showed up.”

“So am I. For the rest of my days, I will be sorry that I didn’t.”

“I don’t want to take you to the station for booking yet. Not at this time. If he learns that you’ve been arrested and charged, he’ll leave town. If you help us catch him, that may be in your favor when you face the judge.”

“If I’m to act as bait, then I should be back at the house.”

“No. Your original plan, and I assume he knows it, was to stay here for a while, and so you will. Everything is back to normal. You’re resting from your accident. You don’t remember anything about it.”

I was shaking my head, “You’re putting my wife and son at risk. Someone’s going to lose his head and start shooting.”

“Gerry, it’s out of your hands now and you will do what I tell you to do. I have another meeting to get to. Show me to the stairs. Quickly. Ms. Zygmunt, I think that baby needs a diaper change.”

Roberta pulled the door open and stepped out onto the balcony. Clarabelle remained in her chair, shoulders hunched, looking frightened. I could only imagine what she was thinking as she saw the future she had hoped for vanish like the foolish dream it had always been.

I followed Roberta out and closed the door softly behind me. “There’s something else,” I said, “that might help you catch Cavell.”

“And what’s that?”

“I told Clarabelle that if I forfeited my rights to the inheritance and Cavell remained a fugitive, then the next in line to inherit is Uncle Fredek’s cat. I told Clarabelle that neither she, nor her children would ever see a dime.”

Roberta laughed, “Is that true?”

“No. It’s a test. I think Clarabelle will contact Cavell. She’ll tell him that I’ve confessed everything and will be going to jail. And she’ll tell him about the cat. Cavell is just insane enough to go after that cat.”

“Is there a cat?”

“Oh, yes. It’s an ugly, scrappy thing, and Uncle Fredek did indeed leave a small trust fund for its keep, enough of a trust fund to convince his lawyer that adopting the cat had some benefits. And because the lawyer has got the cat, Cavell won’t believe a single thing the lawyer says about it, or the will. You might want to alert the police in Pleasantview.”

Roberta nodded, “I’ll do that immediately. And Gerry,” she stopped walking, her hand on the door to the stairs, “what’s his hold over you?”

She was talking about my brother, and I smiled a little, “Daniel.”

She looked past me toward the apartment at the far end of the balcony. “You could have taken them out of harm’s way at any time.”

I shook my head. “He would find us no matter where we went, because Daniel’s mother is still in love with my brother, and he with her in his own twisted way.”

“Love?” she snorted in disgust. “Neither one of them has any idea what love is. Your brother is a predator and your wife is a parasite. The best I can believe of those two is that they have a need for each other. It’s definitely not love. And make no mistake, Gerry, they don’t care a fig about you, so protecting that woman is a mistake.”

“I’m not.”

Roberta looked at me sideways as she stepped through the door to the landing, “Unfortunately, you are. And I’m afraid no one except the dead will ever really know the truth about what happened on the cliff. Make sure you aren’t one of them.”