A/N: Not mine! Please remember to leave a review.

Chapter 4

Help From Friends

Janet leaned back in her chair as she listened to their story. "And this is the second letter?" She looked at the back side of it, handing it back to A.J. "You think there might be another letter in the desk?"

"Well, no. We think that she received delivery of our letter earlier today." A.J. folded the letter and returned it to its envelope.

She narrowed her eyes staring at them. "Have you two been drinking?" Her voice was demanding.

"Not yet." Rick stopped his pacing to give her his utmost serious look.

"Look, Janet." Andrew paused, looking at Rick, who nodded. "We did an experiment this morning. We wrote a letter and put it in the desk and within five minutes there was a noise coming from the desk." His voice was husky and unwavering.

As much as she wanted to doubt him, the sincerity of his voice convinced her. She bit her bottom lip. "Okay, let's say I believe you." A.J. exhaled the breath he had been holding, feeling some relief. She continued. "How long will it take her to answer you?"

"We don't know, this is the first time we have written her." Rick looked at her earnestly.

Janet shuffled some papers on her desk, pulling a stained old thin manilla folder from the bottom of the small pile. She opened it. "There was a Stephen Dresdan."

"Was?" Rick choked out the word as he sunk down in a chair across from Janet's desk.

She nodded. "According to the report, he was 32 years old when he died." Handing the folder to A.J., he skimmed the papers from the police report.

"Well?" Rick's impatience was growing.

"It says," A.J. paused his pacing. "That the year is 1948."

Rick sank back into his chair. "1948? This isn't just a cold case, it's frozen."

Andrew continued. "His wife, Laura Dresdan, was five months pregnant at the time of his death." A.J. closed the folder. "They ruled it as a suicide."

A.J. quietly entered his home, with Rick closely behind him. Stopping in the kitchen, with the bar between them and the living room, the looked over towards the desk, which was once again open. Rick gently nudged A.J. towards the end of the bar. The younger Simon dug his heels in. "Rick!"

His brother let up, laughing nervously. A.J. shoved him back. Taking a deep breath, he looked at his older brother and nodded. Walking over to the desk, he opened the drawer and pulled out the envelope. He handed it to Rick. "Your turn."

Rick accepted it, putting it to his nose. "Lilac." Taking his knife, he quickly slit it open. Unfolding the letter, he noted that it was in the same handwriting. He began reading out loud.

Dear Mr. Simon and Simon,

I am sorry to hear about detective

Mosely's family misfortune.

My husband was an honest man.

He worked at the Binder and Lindel

Auto Lot as their accountant. He had

worked for them for over seven years.

He enjoyed his job, but two months

before his death, he was distressed

about something. He would not

confide in me what was wrong. He

was suppose to meet with someone

the night of his death.

I hope this helps. If more information

is needed, please do not hesitate to

write.

My best wishes to detective

Mosely and his family.

Mrs. Stephen Dresdan

Rick handed the letter to A.J. Walking to the bar, he pulled a phone book out from the drawer. "I don't recall a Binder and Lindel Auto Lot." He flipped the book open. A.J. disappeared down the hall towards his study. Moments later, he reappeared with several sheets of paper. Rick looked up at his brother. "What's that?"

"The papers that came with the desk." A.J. furrowed his brow as he flipped through the pages.

"Didn't Kendall Warren say that the desk belong to Wendell Peterson?"

"Yeah, but, ah!" Andrew grinned. "Wendell Peterson inherited it from his grandmother on his father side, and then passed it on to his only child, Laura." He looked up, feeling quite triumphant.

"Okay, so one of the previous owners was a woman named Laura, but that might have been a pretty common name back then." Rick's skepticism caused A.J. to frown. Running his finger down the list in the phone book he stopped two thirds of the way down. "Lindel's Auto Plex". Rick tapped the page with his index finger. "Same Lindel?

A.J. sat down at the desk. "Probably not, that would have been, what? Forty-one years ago? He would be an old man by now. Maybe his son, or grandson?" Pulling a blank piece of paper from a drawer, he looked at his brother thoughtfully. "I wonder what had Stephen so upset."

"Well, he was an accountant. Maybe he was embezzling?" Rick cocked his head in thought.

A.J. shook his head in disagreement. "No Rick, I believe Laura, and she says he was honest."

"Come on A.J., she didn't even know what he was upset about! He could have been stealing the company blind for all she knew!" Rick's jaw tightened as he prepared to argue about this with his younger brother.

Seeing his jaw tighten, Andrew quickly changed the subject. "Do we need to respond?"

Before Rick could answer, the back door bell rang. He answered the door. "Lt. Brown, come on in."

Stepping aside, Brown walked in. He glanced over at A.J. and then back at Rick, noting a slight tension in the room. "Ah, did I interrupt something?"

A.J. stood up. "We were just having a discussion." He walked over and handed the letter to the Lt.

"Some discussion." He accepted the letter. After reading it, the brothers explained how it 'appeared'. Lt. Brown shook his head. "The reason I came over was to talk to you two about Detective Mosely."

A.J. grinned. "So, you did believe us!"

M.P. Brown shook his head adamantly. "No. But I got a call from Janet, and she persuaded me to do some research. What I found was that there was actually a Detective Mosely, and he was on his own time, checking on a few things concerning this case. I thought I owed you that much." He paused a moment, looking somewhat dejected. "Hey, don't you usually offer company a beer or something?"

Rick quickly retrieved three beers from he fridge, giving one to Brown and A.J. "And?"

Taking a swallow, Brown sighed contentedly. "And, whatever he found is probably in some box stored away in a relative''s attic."

A.J. set his beer on the counter, his voice was quiet. "What happened to Mosely?"

His face turned somber. "It seems that after three months on this case, Detective Mosely met an untimely end." Brown took another sip of beer before setting the bottle on the counter. "He was heading to San Francisco to interview someone about this case when his brakes failed near Westport."

"No idea of who he was going to see?" Rick tried to sound hopeful.

Brown shook his head. "None. Like I said, if you can locate one of his relatives, you might have a chance with this case." He paused, looking over towards the desk. "Is that the infamous desk?" He walked over towards it.

Andrew nodded. "That's it."

"Huh. Looks pretty harmless." Brown stopped within three feet of the desk, not quite sure if he wanted to get any closer. "Can you make it do something?"

Rick snorted. "Brown, it's not a trained dog."

Brown glanced back at him. "Probably better trained than Marlowe."

"Hey, Marlowe's trained!" Rick's objection caused Brown to roll his eyes. "Yeah, right."

A.J. walked past Brown and sat down at the desk. "We were just about to compose a letter." Turning slightly towards Brown and his brother, he asked, "Would you care to help?"

The Lt. raised his brows. "Yeah?" Brown gingerly moved forward, then stepped back.

Rick grinned, stepping beside M.P, giving him a shove with his shoulder. "Come on Brown, it isn't going to bite you. And if it does, you can shoot it."

"No he may not!" A.J. growled at his brother. "I just got this desk, and I don't want bullet holes in it." Andrew cleared his throat. "What do we want to ask?"

Rick cocked his head in thought. "How about we tell her that Lt. Brown is now on the case with us."

A.J. began writing. "Anything else?"

"Yeah." The brothers looked at Brown and waited. "How about we ask for a recent photo of her husband?"

Nodding, A.J. jotted it down on the paper. "That should do it." With that, he folded the piece of paper and placed it in the envelope. Placing it in the drawer, he stood up and began walking away from the desk.

Rick shook his head. "Wait a minute. The last time we sent a letter, we closed the desk up."

"Right. And when she sent one, the desk was down." A.J. carefully closed the desk.

Brown looked at the desk. "How will you know when she picks it up?"

Before either brother could answer, there was a sound from the inside of the desk. A.J. grinned. "She just picked it up." He turned to look at Lt. Brown, but found that he had already left the room.

A/N: To be continued.