Chapter Twenty-Five

Lieutenant Tragg was overwhelmed as he hung up the phone with Hamilton. Andy, who was standing by, looked at him in puzzlement. "Did I hear right, Lieutenant?" he asked. "Mr. Burger actually found Sergeant Brice and Mrs. Fallon, both alive?"

"Yeah," Tragg said. "They found that private eye in the Valley, Mannix. He helped them." He shook his head. "This case has so many ups and downs, I'm not sure anymore if I'm up or down!"

"Well, we still need to find Mr. Fallon," Andy said. "Are we going to get on that now?"

Tragg nodded. "I wonder how Nichols is doing with the questioning of Jason Griffith. And if Griffith's father's been found yet." He shoved his hands in his coat pockets as he headed for the front doors of the hospital.

Andy's phone rang just when they stepped outside. "Hello?" he said wonderingly.

"Lieutenant?" It was Sergeant MacDonald. "We've got a situation here at the station."

That announcement left Andy feeling like whatever was left of his patience was going to crumble into dust. "Oh no!" he moaned. "What now?" He kept walking, but his pace had slowed. Tragg slowed too, staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"Well, about ten minutes ago, Sergeant Nichols came out of the interrogation room with Jason Griffith. Nichols was kind of pushing Griffith ahead of him. When I asked what was going on, he said that he couldn't explain right then and they had to get to Griffith Park Observatory on the double."

"That doesn't even make sense!" Andy burst out.

"Here's something else that doesn't make sense," MacDonald went on. "Griffith looked like he'd tried to swallow a bowling ball. He didn't want to go to the Observatory. Nichols was pretty much forcing him on. But when I tried to intervene, he insisted it was alright and nothing for me to worry about."

"That's not like Nichols at all," Andy said, bewildered. As they reached the car, he stopped and waited for Tragg to unlock it. But Tragg stood there, trying to listen to the conversation.

"I know. I don't like the smell of this whole thing, Lieutenant. I told Reed and Malloy to get up to the Observatory and see what's going on. They were already patrolling nearby, so they should get there first."

"Good." Andy turned to give Tragg a questioning look regarding the car. "We'll be up there too, as soon as we can make it. Thank you for letting me know, Sergeant."

"I just hope you can get up there before all you-know-what breaks loose," MacDonald said. "The look on Nichols' face! I've never seen him so angry before. In fact, I think angry is a mild word for it."

"We'll find out what's wrong," Andy insisted. "Thank you again, Sergeant." He hung up the phone.

"Well?! Now what?!" Tragg demanded. "We're not going to look for Mr. Fallon?"

"We can do that on our way to the Griffith Park Observatory," Andy replied. "I'll tell you about it while we're going. And I'd better call Steve, too. He'll want to know about this."

"Fine. You call Steve and I'll listen in," Tragg growled, finally going around to the driver's side of the car.

xxxx

Della had to admit to herself that she was nervous to be riding around in a car with a femme fatale who had been most likely trying on purpose to drive Amory Fallon and possibly Daniel Conway out of their minds. She gripped her purse, watching both the road and Virginia as they headed towards Griffith Park.

Virginia had let her place the call to Perry, as promised. Perry had been appalled; he hadn't intended for Della to leave the Petersons, and certainly not in the company of Virginia. But there was nothing he could do about that. So he had simply promised that he and Paul would be at the Observatory as quickly as they could drive there from downtown Los Angeles. Now Della was trying to think of a way to engage the suddenly silent Virginia in conversation.

"Were you already planning to meet Warner Griffith tonight to tell him about his son?" she asked at last.

"Maybe," Virginia offered noncommittally. "I really wanted to meet the son first and see what I thought of him, but then y'all pushed me into making the call to Warner right then. I just hope it'll be the right thing, for him to see his son like this."

"You must have arranged a meeting with Jason already, then," Della said.

"Something like that," Virginia said, still vague.

"I hope he'll be done at the police station," Della said, watching Virginia carefully for her reaction. "They've been questioning him for hours about his friend, who was the victim in the Graveyard Murder."

Virginia nodded. "He'll be done. He promised to make the meeting."

"But he didn't have a chance to call and tell you that he was being questioned," Della said in amazement. "He must have promised you before it ever happened."

"He knew it was going to happen anyway," Virginia offered with a casual air.

A disturbed feeling began to grow in Della's stomach. "How could he?" she asked.

"He heard Mr. Conway talking to that Lieutenant Drumm on the phone about it," Virginia said. If she thought there was anything wrong in her revealing that information, she didn't show it.

"But he couldn't have," Della protested. "Mr. Conway has a very private office." And then realization dawned and her eyes widened. "Was he bugging Mr. Conway's office?!"

Now, appearing to suddenly realize she may have said too much, Virginia stiffened. "Maybe we'd better wait and let him tell you the rest himself," she said. "I think my overly friendly nature may have just resulted in more of me puttin' my foot smack-dab in my mouth."

Della leaned back in the seat, her mouth open. What on Earth was going on? Daniel Conway didn't even know Jason Griffith personally, not until he made that presentation that day. What reason would Jason have for bugging the office?

She clutched her purse tighter. She didn't dare make another call to Perry, but she wished she could. She had the feeling they were all plunging into something very bad and very unexpected.

xxxx

The Observatory was still open as the group's cars began to arrive. But as Perry and Paul turned up the road that would lead them to the white, domed building, Paul gave a cry of utter disbelief. "Perry!"

Perry snapped to, looking in the direction Paul was pointing. A blond man was walking in silent determination up the hill, his fists clenched at his sides.

"I don't believe it," Perry said, in definite disbelief. He leaned over Paul, rolling down the window since the top was up on the car. "Mr. Fallon!" he yelled. "Mr. Fallon!"

If Amory heard, he gave no heed. He just kept walking, towards the building that had seen the start of the entire, twisted case.

"He's still out of it. Perry, what are we going to do?!" Paul exclaimed.

Perry started the engine and moved the car forward, slowly. "We're going to follow him," he determined.

"Perry, you know what Steve said!" Paul objected. "You even agreed with him that we couldn't expose Mr. Fallon to more danger."

"I know. But his destination must be here, Paul. We have to find out exactly where he's going." Perry gripped the steering wheel, keeping Amory in sight as he drove. "Maybe he saw something that night that seemed insignificant at the time, something he remembered today was important. Maybe, with his help, we're about to crack the case."

Paul squirmed, definitely uneasy. "Alright, but if Steve finds out about this, I'm going to tell him I tried to get you to take Mr. Fallon back to the hospital."

"Oh, he'll find out," Perry answered, his tone occupied. "Naturally it will be in the full statements we'll be making after this is all over."

"We don't even know anything significant is going to happen, except maybe me losing my license and you going before the Bar Association," Paul retorted.

"Shh! Look, Paul. He's stopping over there, by that bush." Perry pulled over to the curb. "That's where he was hit over the head."

"Well, he doesn't seem to be going after any evidence that was concealed there," Paul said, climbing out of the car. "He's just standing there, looking around, like he expects someone to be there."

"Maybe he does," Perry said. "And maybe someone will be."

Many things started happening at once.

Steve arrived and rushed over, calling for Amory.

Della and Virginia pulled up, Della rushing out of the car and over to Perry and Paul with a warning cry.

Mr. Peterson pulled up right after Della and Virginia, prompting Virginia to exclaim in indignation about being followed and spied on. Mr. Peterson didn't even bother to deny it.

About the same time Tragg and Andy parked and got out, Officers Reed and Malloy came hurrying down the hill in pursuit of Warner Griffith, who stopped and stared at the multiplying crowd in disbelief.

"Just what's going on here?!" he hollered. "It's some kind of convention! And where's my son?!"

"Right here, Father," came Jason's voice as he was pushed into view by Sergeant Nichols.

"What?" Warner stopped and stared. "You're not my boy!"

The sight of the latest arrivals had a shocking effect on Amory. He snapped out of his silence, lunging at Jason with a scream. "You! It was you!" he snarled. "You murdered Edith!" They fell to the ground, Jason shocked while Amory pounded on his body.

"Mr. Fallon! Stop!" Perry yelled. He dashed forward, Paul right on his heels.

Nichols was already pulling the struggling Amory back. "Let him up," he said darkly. "Although I have to say I wouldn't mind so much seeing you give it to him for a while."

Amory fought and strained against him. "Murderer!" he shouted. "Butcher!"

"This man's crazy," Jason protested. "I haven't done anything wrong."

Amory's eyes flashed. "I saw you here at Griffith Park the night your thug hit me! I saw the both of you together. It just didn't click until I heard him today when he dumped Edith's body at my feet! That was the voice of the man who knocked me unconscious; I could never forget it. And I heard him talking to you when I got out of my car, right before he came up and hit me."

"What in tarnation is going on here?!" Warner snarled, looking to Virginia for answers. "Were you going to try to pass that little creep off on me as my son?!"

Virginia took a step back, suddenly frightened. "I . . . I . . . it was all his idea!" she cried, pointing at Jason. "Why don't you ask him about it, Warner?!"

"And don't you 'Warner' me!" Warner's eyes flashed. "If I never see you again, it'll be too soon. It was a swindle the whole time, wasn't it?!"

"It was a way to draw you into the open." Jason's voice darkened as he got to his feet. "You were hiding, afraid to come out because you knew what my group would do to you if you did. You'd finally realized what kind of a business you were really in, and you didn't like it." He sneered. "After all the dirty tricks you pulled on Daniel Conway, suddenly you had a conscience."

"What I did to Conway is nothin' compared to Randall Madsen's business bein' a front for a militarian group!" Warner shot back. "I didn't want no part of that."

"And you couldn't have him reveal everything," Perry said in realization as he stepped forward. "So you arranged this complex and cruel plan to draw Warner Griffith out, thinking his son had been found. It was the only thing you knew that would do the trick. And once you had him in the open, you were going to murder him."

Virginia shrieked, clapping her hands to her face. "Oh no!" she wailed. "No, I had no idea that's what the real plan was! What an awful, awful thing! I'd never be a part of somethin' like that!"

"Oh, shut up, you little tramp," Jason snapped.

Perry's gaze bored into Jason's. "You are Randall Madsen, aren't you?" he asked. "The real one, that is—the one who committed the Graveyard Murder, most likely to silence Martin Davis because of what he knew about you and your criminal activities."

"And you were bugging Daniel Conway's office, weren't you?" Della spoke up. "It makes more sense now, if you really are the criminal mastermind behind all of this."

"Do you really think I'll tell you anything?" Jason shot back.

"You don't have to," Perry replied. "We have the two witnesses who can prove it was you that night."

Andy stepped forward, not bothering to mention that only one of the witnesses—Stratton—could definitely recognize Jason by more than just his voice. "It won't take much to have them both attend a police lineup," he said. "If they pick you, Mr. Gifford, we've got you."

Jason's eyes only darkened further. "Go ahead then, Lieutenant Anderson," he spat. "Just try it."

"I will." Andy took out his handcuffs, reciting the Miranda Rights as he pulled Jason's hands behind his back and snapped them on. Jason stood sullenly, now enacting his right to remain silent as he glowered at the collected group.

"You really aren't Jason then."

Everyone turned in surprise at the new voice. No one had even heard Hamilton and Sampson arrive, but it was Sampson walking forward now, stunned and upset and deflated.

"I'm saddened for Mr. Griffith, but I'm glad you're not him," Sampson continued. "I'd hate to think he turned out that way. I'd always feel partially responsible."

Warner's lip curled. "Whatever has happened to him, you are partially responsible. I don't want you looking for my boy anymore, Mr. Sampson. I'll do the looking, if anyone's going to. Little Miss Virginia here has just been fired."

"And we're taking you in too," Steve said to Virginia, even as she stiffened in surprise. "You've aided and abetted Mr. Gifford, or should I say, Mr. Madsen. I won't be surprised if your claims to the Petersons' treasure and the will are phony too."

"They are not, Lieutenant," Virginia huffed. "You'll see."

"We'll see, alright," Steve retorted, and commenced reading her the Miranda Rights.

With the excitement over, Amory's shoulders slumped and he turned away. It was over then. Edith's murderer was getting arrested at last. There was nothing more Amory could do for her, except to see that she had a decent burial.

"Mr. Fallon, wait!" Hamilton called after him, but he barely paid attention.

The next voice stopped him dead in his tracks. "Amory! Amory, I'm not dead!"

He turned in disbelief, staring as Edith flew over the grass, panicked and desperate. "What kind of cruel trick is this?!" he choked out. "Isn't everything you've already done enough?!" He looked to Jason, who didn't even try to reply.

Edith caught up to him and reached up, laying her hands on his arms. "It wasn't me they killed," she explained. "Sergeant Brice helped me get out of the house and we were running all over the Valley for hours. We found a private detective named Joe Mannix and he helped us!"

Amory stared at her, wanting to believe, longing to believe, but afraid to. "That's . . . that's really the truth?" he stammered. "You're not an actress made up to look like Edith?"

"This one's the real thing, Mr. Fallon," Sergeant Brice smiled as he came up to them.

"Brice!" Steve exclaimed. He and the other police quickly rallied around the Sergeant, joyously welcoming him back.

Amory looked back to Edith. He was going to take a leap of faith. Or maybe . . . maybe he didn't really have to. Maybe, seeing her, he knew. "Edith!" he cried in joy, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Oh, Edith. . . ."

She returned the hug, tears of happiness shining in her eyes. "Amory!"

Feeling left out of the celebrations, and not having anything to celebrate, Warner Griffith slowly turned away, unnoticed by the crowd.

"Mr. Griffith! Wait."

"Why should I?" Warner retorted.

Everyone fell silent as Sergeant Nichols called out, surprised by his entering the conversation. He stepped forward, looking nervous but determined.

"I was the one who first realized that Jason Gifford was a fraud," he said. "I knew he wasn't your son."

"How could you know?" Warner challenged. "What do you know about my son?"

"I know a lot about your son, probably more than anyone else. I know because . . ." Nichols drew a deep breath. "I am him."

That brought gasps of surprise and disbelief from several of the people standing there and an indignant cry from Warner Griffith. "That's ridiculous!" he snarled. "I don't know you from Adam. You're not my son any more than that murderer is!"

Sampson hurried to Nichols, stunned beyond belief. "You couldn't be Jason Griffith," he objected. "Not unless you really did have cosmetic surgery."

"I did," Nichols admitted. "I was so ashamed of Jason Griffith that I wanted him gone. I wanted to be someone else. So I took my middle name as my first name and my mother's maiden name for my last name and started my life over." He looked to Sampson and then to Warner. "Now I'm ashamed of Sergeant Nichols. I made myself believe that I could never reveal my true identity, that it was better for my father to think that I was dead. After all, I was such a disappointment to him. I didn't think he'd be happy to learn I'd joined the police force, not after his own troubles with the law."

"Why did you?" Warner said cautiously, suspiciously, still not ready to believe this man was his son.

"I guess for the same reason Greg decided to become a prosecutor," Nichols said with a half-smile. "I wanted to make sure injustices didn't happen on my watch." He sobered. "And when I saw that crumb pretending to be me, I boiled over. He told me about the impersonation and the meeting here tonight with you . . . Dad, and I just couldn't let things go on any longer. I knew I'd have to reveal my identity at long last. I'm just sorry I didn't do it much sooner."

Warner swallowed hard, coming closer to the last person he had ever thought would be his timid, shy son. "You're really Jason," he said, quietly, reverently, also deciding to take that leap of faith.

"My fingerprints wouldn't be any help, since Jason's were never on file, but you can check my dental work," Nichols smiled wryly. "I'm really Jason."

"Well, then . . ." Warner found himself choking up, but he didn't care. "I can't decide whether to tell you I'd like to punch you in the face for keeping yourself secret for fifteen years or to tell you I'm proud of the way you've ended up. So for right now, I'm just gonna settle for this." He pulled Nichols into a tight hug. "Welcome home, Son."

"Dad . . ." Nichols seemed to be choking up himself. He shut his eyes tightly, just hugging his father close.

Sampson stepped back, unsure what to make of this turn of events. "I can hardly believe it," he said. "I've seen Sergeant Nichols before, I've worked with him . . . but I never once thought . . ." He shook his head. "Now that I think of it, it did seem like he tried to avoid working around me as much as possible. More than once he sent someone else in his stead."

"I guess he was afraid you'd recognize him if you were around him too long and he wasn't ready for that to happen," Hamilton said. "But knowing you've finally seen what happened to him, how do you feel?"

"Numb right now, I suppose," Sampson replied. "It hasn't fully sunk in. At the same time, however, it feels like a release. He really has made something good of himself. I was so afraid that perhaps he'd fallen into debauchery and it would be partially my fault because of the cruel pranks I participated in enacting on him during college."

"If that had really happened, it would have been his choice," Hamilton said. "Just as it is his choice to have instead gone into law enforcement."

"You're right, Mr. Burger," Sampson nodded. "And maybe now that there's been a positive outcome, I'll finally be able to put the ghosts of the past behind me."

Hamilton drew an arm around his shoulders. "I hope so, Greg."

Perry stayed back, smiling at the multiple reunions. "Well," he said to Paul and Della, "this is nice, isn't it?"

"It most certainly is," Della said fondly and happily. She went over to greet Sergeant Brice as well as the Fallons.

"It's sure not the ending I would have pegged," Paul said. "But maybe I'm just a cynic after all these years."

Perry chuckled, slapping Paul on the back. "Maybe this will put a little idealism back into your life. Everyone is back together, safe and sound. The criminals are caught. Everything is just the way it should be."

"Or almost everything," Paul said. "We still don't know how Virginia fits in with the Petersons, do we?"

"No, we don't," Perry admitted. "Hopefully that will come."

"And we also don't know who the poor dame was that they fixed up to be Mrs. Fallon," Paul added.

That brought a deeper frown to Perry's countenance. "Let's hope all of our hanging mysteries can be cleared up," he said. "Meanwhile, I think I should call Daniel Conway and let him know that everything is pretty much wrapped up, particularly everything that involves him or his company."

"That's a good idea, Perry, but uh, do you think he'd still be awake?" Paul asked.

"Why not?" Perry replied. "It's early yet."

"For you, maybe, but the Observatory is almost ready to close, so it must be nearly ten o'clock," Paul stated. "Mr. Conway might very well be asleep by now, preparing for a new workday tomorrow."

"Hmm. I suppose you could be right, Paul," Perry mused. "Maybe the call can wait till morning."

"Good choice," Paul pronounced. "But now I say let's go to Clay's for some night-owl celebrating."

"You, Paul? Suggesting night-owling?" Perry quipped. "I wonder if Hell will freeze over this year."

"Yeah, laugh all you want. But this case has been such a tangled mess hanging over our heads for months that I say concluding it is worth staying up a little later. Anyway, I doubt I'd sleep right now," Paul muttered.

Perry chuckled. "I'm certainly not opposed to it. And I'm sure Della would be happy to agree. Maybe we can even get Hamilton and the police to join in. The Fallons too."

"I think the Fallons might rather be alone tonight," Paul pointed out, nodding to where Amory and Edith were strolling up the hill towards the Observatory, their arms around each other.

Perry smiled. "Well, why not. They deserve some time to themselves, after the day they've had. We'll leave them to it."

"Coming to think about it, someone needs to call the hospital and tell them that they don't need to worry about Mr. Fallon now," Paul realized.

"Oh, I'm sure the police will see to that," Perry said.

"And how are they even going to get back?" Paul exclaimed. "Mr. Fallon didn't bring a car and Mrs. Fallon came with Burger."

"I guess we'll have to ask them what they want to do," Perry said. "They're certainly welcome to join us, if they'd like." He smiled, seeing the happily reunited couple kiss under the moonlight. "But we'll give them a few minutes first."

Paul shook his head. "You're just a sentimentalist."

"Oh ho ho. And you never are?"

"Certainly not. I just . . . like to see things work out nice for people who deserve it."

Perry smiled. "Then we're in agreement." He looked up at the Fallons. "They definitely deserve it."

For a moment, it almost looked like a gossamer figure standing by and observing, also in agreement. But then it was gone, twinkling and fading into the night breeze.

Paul started. "What was that?!"

"You saw it too?" Perry thought a moment. "I would say it was an old friend checking up on them."

"Oh." Paul thought about that and smiled a bit. If the ghost of Ned Thompson had returned for such a purpose, that was a haunting Paul could live with. He was sure the Fallons would feel the same way.