Ben had to admit; he was confused. How could this Spot character not have killed Jack Kelly? Was he covering for someone else? Yes, that had to be it. Spot Conlon was covering for the real murderer, whoever that may be…

No, Ben suddenly realized, Spot didn't seem like the type of person to cover for someone. Any person capable of conjuring such a grim smile wouldn't help someone in his situation.

"Damn it all." He swore in frustration. He wanted answers…and he wanted them NOW.

Ben walked back into the room and took his seat across from Spot, placing his hands on the table and looking Spot in the eyes. Spot merely grinned at him.

"So…how'd it go?" He asked innocently, turning his attention elsewhere.

"What the hell was that all about?"

Spot glanced up and flashed him another grin. "I take it you met Amelia. Isn't she a sweetheart?"

"No, not really. I repeat-…"

"I know. I don't think she really ever liked me, but she was sweet enough anyway. She thought for the longest time that the mob killed Jack for some reason, and therefore would come after her. I don't think we were ever able to fully convince her otherwise. She's really jittery. Gets annoying after a while." Spot interrupted, leaning back in his chair.

"What did you send me there for?" Ben asked with an air of annoyance.

"You want answers, don't you?"

"Yeah, but-…"

"If you shut up long enough, I'll give you answers." Spot stated with the same tone, emphasized with raised brows.

Ben shut his open mouth with a click of his teeth, and narrowed his eyes slightly. "Fine. Now what about-…"

"Have you ever heard of a man named Kloppman?" Spot interrupted again.

Ben clenched his teeth together for a moment before answering. This boy sure knew how to get on his nerves. "No, I can't say that I have."

"He ran the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House. That's where Jack lived for most of his life. I went there a lot. Almost anytime I wasn't in Brooklyn I was found there." There was that smile again…only this time he seemed saddened. No, that couldn't be, Ben thought again. This kind of person wasn't capable of feeling.

"What about him?"

"Go ask him about Jack. I think you'll find it useful for that book." Spot said, tapping the notepad lightly before sitting back again.

"Maybe after-…"

"Now. That is if you want this book written. Besides, the man's old. I mean OLD. You never know when old people will keel over." He smirked lightly.

Ben sighed heavily, making sure Spot knew of his annoyance. Finding no other alternative, he got up and made towards the door.

"Before you go…"

"What?" Ben asked turning around.

"Can I borrow a cigarette and a match?"

Ben rolled his eyes lightly, though the randomness of the question struck him as amusing. He walked back over and handed Spot one of each before leaving, closing the door softly behind him.

Spot thought he was in heaven. Two years without a cigarette can do weird things to a person. He inhaled with closed eyes, and then exhaled, allowing the smoke to stream slowly out of his parted lips.

Spot opened his eyes, and then stared slightly at the burning tip as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "You're gonna thank me, Jack. I know you will." He muttered, before inhaling once more.

Well, Ben thought as he stared back at the man, Spot was right about one thing. This man was OLD.

"What can I do for you?" Kloppman asked, his eyes surveying Ben with great caution. Was this the new warden the boys were talking about lately?

"Are you Kloppman?"

"Yes. What can I do for you?" He asked again.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I'm here to ask you about Jack Kelly. Do you have a few minutes?" Ben asked politely.

"Jack Kelly? I've never heard of him-…" He stopped, realizing what he'd done. He chuckled bitterly. "I keep forgetting that I don't have to protect him anymore. That boy sure got into a lot of trouble. It was up to me to protect my boys…they were all like my sons. They still are."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Well you had nothing to do with it, so why should you be sorry?" Kloppman asked, leading Ben into his room. He gestured to a chair once he'd sat down himself.

Ben sat down and tried to make himself comfortable in the lumpy chair. He glanced around at the new environment, seeing that the old man really had thought of each of the boys as his sons. There were pictures of them everywhere.

"Now what is this you wanted?" Kloppman's sudden statement brought Ben back to reality.

"Oh…I wanted to know what you thought of the boy that was killed two years ago. I'm a writer, you see, and his killer is telling his story for the first time." And he's sending me all over God's green earth to find it, Ben thought bitterly.

"Spot always was real into himself." Kloppman said with amusement present in his voice. "He never much thought of anyone else…but he was a good kid anyway…now Jack…" he shook his head. "Jack was like the great protector of all the newsies in this lodging house. If someone didn't show up on time, he went looking for them. If someone was hurt, he'd go to the source of the problem and fix it. He was a good kid, too. Then again, he was selfish in the aspect of his dreams."

"How was that?"

"If something prevented him from fulfilling his dream, he resented them. Well, not resent, maybe. But he would sulk over it for the longest time. A week at most. He always saw it as a weakness." Kloppman said sadly. "He hated that part of himself. Jack, I suppose, thought he was a bad person for wanting to go to Santa Fe. That's why he came back when he did. He felt guilty for leaving all of his friends like that."

Ben scribbled it all down furiously. So fast in fact, that Kloppman wondered how the paper didn't rip into shreds, or worse, catch fire.

"So why do YOU think Spot killed him? Do you think he resented Jack for thinking selfishly?" Ben asked.

"You say that like it was all a bad thing."

"Well, I tend to think murdering your best friend is a bad thing, sir." Ben stated.

Kloppman clicked his tongue. "You're missing the big picture. Spot didn't just kill him. He wasn't like that. Jack and Spot were best friends for crying out loud. Spot didn't just kill all of his best friends. That's insanity, that is."

Ben sighed. "Then what happened?"

"You're the writer, not me. You figure it out. Now if you'll excuse me," Kloppman said, standing slowly, his joints popping, "I have newsies to tend to." He said over the growing amount of noise in the lodging house.

Ben leaned back in the chair once the old man had left. He felt as if the entire world had gone mad.