A/N: This is going to be an 8-part romantic comedy caper. This is a ridiculous, comical premise and not meant to be taken as a serious crime drama in any way. ;)

"A slip of the foot you may soon recover, but a slip of the tongue you may never get over." – Benjamin Franklin

Saturday Afternoon
An odd scraping sound interrupted her whistling.

Belle puttered around her small porch, watering can in hand, while the scorching afternoon sun beat down on the back of her neck and bare shoulders. She should have paid attention to her plants earlier, but she'd been distracted by baking a cake and rereading Wuthering Heights and lost all track of time. Belle shrugged and smiled down at the wilting plants, brushing her fingers over the yellow petals of a daisy. She didn't have much of a green thumb, but she didn't let it bother her. Hopefully a long, cool drink and a happy tune would revive these beauties. If not, they were only plants—not pets or people. Belle tipped the watering can again, showering her hydrangeas with water and a song until the soil was dark and excess moisture dripped onto the porch.

There it was again. The scraping noise.

A flash of movement at Mr. Gold's house next door caught her attention, and Belle stopped whistling. She shaded her eyes and scanned his front porch. Their houses were only about fifteen feet apart, her modest peach-colored two-bedroom ranch-style home almost comical next to his gigantic salmon mansion. Belle squinted. She could see the outline of a figure on the porch, but she didn't have her contacts in.

Damned nearsightedness. She picked up her birdwatching binoculars for a closer look.

Zelena Kelly was peering in the front windows, running her long, pale fingers along the green and burgundy frames. What was she doing, casing Gold's house? Zelena gave the locked front door an accusatory glare, and Belle snorted in disgusted amusement.

To say Belle wasn't Zelena's biggest fan was an understatement.

With long, flaming red hair and a willowy figure, Zelena was a classic beauty, but ugliness clung to her spirit. Her dour expressions and obnoxious, cutting remarks left people cold. Plus, the woman was infamous for losing books—she had misplaced the library's prize copy of The Wizard of Oz and refused to pay the fine. What she did manage to return was always warped and dog-eared, as though she took all her books to the beach and dunked them in the surf. She had buried no fewer than three husbands, each of whom had mysteriously died a few months into their marriage, leaving Zelena to gleefully collect on their estates. She even kept her maiden name—Kelly—to signify her continuous availability to the male population at large. Some of Storybrooke's less intelligent residents, like Keith Nottingham and Howard Hades, were stupid enough to trot after her like lovesick puppies. Future victims, Belle thought grimly.

If those sins weren't enough to damn Zelena for eternity, she had been throwing herself at Mr. Gold for months like the snake and her proverbial apple. Several times, Belle had seen Zelena accost him at Granny's and in his pawnshop, her spindly fingers and nails the color of fresh blood always digging into his arm or his chest. Now she was poking around Gold's house like she owned the place!

Belle sharpened the focus on her binoculars as Zelena rummaged through the large, emerald handbag slung over her shoulder. Clenched in her hand was a sturdy, metal nail file and she was running it along the seams of the door and the front windows. Scrape, scrape, scrape.

What the hell was she doing, trying to break in?

Belle eyes widened when Zelena fumbled around in her bag again and pulled out a small handgun. No, she wanted to do more than break in.

She wanted to kill Mr. Gold.

Belle gasped, adrenaline kicking in, her heart slamming against her ribcage. She banged her leg against the patio table, upsetting the watering can, and water splashed across the front of her shirt. Zelena whipped her head in Belle's direction. Belle jumped back, then dropped the binoculars to the porch with a clatter.

"You there—Bess!"

Please don't let her mean me. Belle craned her neck down the road and prayed Zelena was shouting at someone else, but the sidewalk and neighboring yards were quiet. Zelena's narrowed stare was fixed on her, the gun no longer in her hands. The metal file was gone, too. Belle's throat clenched. Had Zelena seen her spying?

"Have you seen Gold?" Zelena hollered.

"He's not home, Miss Kelly," Belle answered from the safety of her porch. Her heart thrashed a nervous beat as she wiped her wet hands on her shorts. "And it's Belle."

"What's Belle?"

"My name."

Zelena waved a dismissive hand. "Did he say when he'd be back?"

"Mr. Gold doesn't clear his schedule with me. But if the door's locked and he's not answering when you ring the bell…" It seemed rather obvious Gold was out of the house, but Zelena continued to patrol his porch like a bloodhound. Unless…was he hiding inside? Belle certainly couldn't blame him for not wanting to open the door for that.

Then again, Gold never opened the door for her, either. Belle pushed the cloudy thought away and forced a smile. He may not answer the door when she knocked, but he always picked up whatever she left for him to enjoy—a wedge of peach pie, a plate of cookies, or a square of vanilla bean cake thick with fudgy icing. Belle could only consume so many baked goods on her own, and sharing was the neighborly thing to do. There was a solid explanation for his caution—he simply hadn't taken the time to get to know her in the three years they'd been neighbors. If he gave her a chance, Belle felt certain he would like her as much as he seemed to like her treats.

Zelena abandoned her useless trolling of Gold's porch, then slid up the steps of Belle's porch, her long, pointy nails scratching against the banister. Belle squeezed the handle of the empty watering can and took an automatic step back. The only sound on the porch was the slow drip of water from the quenched plants.

"You don't know where Gold is?" Zelena persisted.

"Did you try the shop?" Belle asked, her tongue feeling two sizes too large for her mouth. Her eyes darted around looking for the gun. She wished she'd gone inside to telephone Emma Swan at the sheriff's station, but it would have been an act of cowardice. An eyewitness account would be more help, and by the time Emma arrived, Zelena would be gone.

"Well, duh." Zelena glanced down at Belle's wet chest and made a face. "I went there first, Bonnie."

Belle opened her mouth to correct her again, then decided against it. There was a cold, eerie glint in the woman's pale blue eyes and her overbearing presence was suffocating, making the already diminutive porch seem like a postage stamp. Even in the oppressive afternoon heat, Belle shivered, the cool beads of water feeling like pricks of ice on her skin. She was about to order Zelena off her property, when Gold came strolling up the sidewalk toward his home.

Oh no.

Gold moved down the street with a loose-hipped, charming gait, reminding Belle of a Regency gentleman out for a summer stroll. Good lord, he was handsome. Zelena faded into nothingness for a moment as Belle admired the view. His shoulder-length hair glinted in the afternoon sun, his dark, three-piece suit pressed and crisp, without a wrinkle in sight, the gold-tipped cane he carried an elegant accent. Even in this stifling August weather he looked cool and calm, but then he wasn't expecting to come face-to-face with a homicidal maniac.

Belle flapped her sweaty fingers in front of her flushed face.

Gold froze on the pavement, his steps stuttering to a halt, his brown pupils growing large as saucers. His eyes landed on the back of Zelena's head, and he went stark white under his tanned complexion. Belle read the panic in his eyes, then watched in helpless fascination as he hobbled through the side yard like a band of wild dogs was after him.

Zelena glanced around just as Gold disappeared behind the side of his enormous house, then turned back. "Brenda? God, you have the attention span of a gnat. With all that time you spend with your nose in a book…I thought reading was supposed to improve one's concentration."

Belle glanced in the direction where Gold had disappeared, thinking furiously. He was hidden and safe for now, but what about later today, tonight, tomorrow?

Zelena snapped her fingers in front of her face. "Hellooooooo! What are you staring at?"

She had to save Gold's life, Belle decided, and she had to act fast. It was now or never. Do the brave thing.

Sweat dripped into her eyes, the salt stinging and making her tear up. She wiped her eyes, then allowed a tear to roll down her cheek, sniffling for effect. "It's…I didn't want to be the one to have to break the news."

"What news?" Zelena tapped her foot against the porch floor, her stiletto heels echoing against the floorboards. Her eyes were feverish and wild, and twin spots of crimson popped out on her cheeks.

"About Mr. Gold." Belle looked down, her fingers twisting through the hem of her tank top, and heaved a labored sigh. "He's dead."

"Impossible," Zelena scoffed, crossing her arms over her ample chest. "I saw him yesterday."

"It happened this morning," Belle said. She fixed Zelena with a melancholy stare. "Massive brain aneurism. So sudden."

"But…" Zelena swayed on her feet and gripped the porch railing with white knuckles. She grappled for one of the patio chairs and sank into the wicker seat, her knees wobbling as she hugged herself. "I can't believe it."

"Well, I'd hardly make up something like that, would I?" A hysterical laugh bubbled up in Belle's throat, the irony of the lie almost too much to contemplate.

Zelena's lips were pinched and white. "He was a bit strange last night when I saw him. Still, I can't get over it."

Belle blinked; God, she'd been here last night, too?

The red spots on Zelena's face gave way to a greenish pallor, and Belle almost felt sorry for her. Then she remembered who she was talking to—a woman who had tricked her third husband into marriage with an 'accidental' pregnancy, then done him in. Soon after they'd tied the knot, Robin Locksley had ended up at the bottom of the old wishing well with a broken neck.

"Guess we all have to go sometime," she said, giving the chair a nudge toward the porch steps. She prayed Zelena would take the hint and leave. "Can't mourn all day, now, can we?"

"But Gold was so…so wonderful. Talented. Handsome," Zelena choked. Fat crocodile tears chased each other down her cheeks as she rocked herself in the chair.

"Yep, he was a real piece of ass." Belle's warm cheeks contradicted her casual tone, but she'd say or do just about anything to derail Zelena from committing murder.

Zelena seemed not to hear. "You know, Becca," she leaned forward and dropped her voice to a stuttering whisper. "I-I was the last person to sleep with him."

Bile climbed up Belle's throat. She may be nothing more than Gold's invisible next door neighbor, but she had enough sense to know when Zelena was telling an outright lie. She began to gag, then doubled over with a belly-deep cough, a hand plastered across her mouth.

Zelena twisted her mouth like she was sucking on a lemon. "If you're going to vomit, could you do it over the railing? I've had the shock of a lifetime and a little compassion would not be out of line!"

Belle lowered her hand once the retching ceased, and drew two long, deep breaths. "Excuse me. I had one of those grocery store sushi rolls for lunch," Belle said to explain away her disgust. "Must have been some powerful orgasm you gave Mr. Gold to shut his brain down." Composure recovered, she shook her head and clucked her tongue in mock shame. "I've heard stories of people dying in flagrante delicto, but I've never actually met someone it happened to. At least you'll always have the memories."

"You'd best not be implying I had something to do with this tragedy." Zelena's tone was icy, and she stalked toward Belle, one of those long, skeletal fingers creeping in front of her face. "You are the one who found the body." She tapped her handbag, her tearstained face suddenly dry. "I'll be taking my concerns to the sheriff, Bria. And in case you've forgotten, my sister is Mayor Mills—she's the mayor in this town."

"Mayor Mills is the Mayor. That's right, Zelena." Belle spoke in the tone she reserved for when the kindergarten class came to the library. "Regina is actually a friend of mine."

"Not for long! Wait till I tell her what you've done!" Zelena flung her hair over her shoulder and clattered down the steps and Belle gulped, the weight of her half-cocked ruse beginning to sink in.

"You do that," she announced to the empty porch.