Welp, school's well underway. I don't know how quickly I'm going to be able to update from here on in, but I've got a few completed chapters waiting in the wings already, so things should keep running pretty smoothly. I've been managing to bang out sections in between homework at a fairly steady rate, so I doubt it's going to have to go on hiatus any time soon. Just don't expect me to keep going at this pace- Remember what Mr. Stewart said about not hurrying things!

Don't forget, you can leave comments as a guest without being registered with , so if you like what you see so far, don't hesitate to drop me a line! Site tools allow me to see how many people are reading this, so that's good, but I always appreciate feedback. So thanks to those of you who've been following this so far. You can also find me on the Deadly Premonition forums shared by Planet REDWOOD and Welcome to Greenvale if you want to chat it up with other DP nerds:

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Oh, this chapter. IN WHICH THE PLOT THICKENS.

CHAPTER 35: FK

DAY 4
TIME AND LOCATION: 8:07, Great Deer Yard Hotel
WEATHER REPORT: Slightly overcast
FORTUNE: "FK"

"Whoa, there!"

I turn my head slowly to the right. Standing just outside our hotel room door, moving surprisingly quickly for his size, a very large man in denim overalls and a yellow plaid shirt hastens backwards as I step into the hall. Zach, we didn't order room service, did we?

"...Did you need something?"

He adjusts his glasses as I stare at him, then runs one hand through his thick brown hair. In the other hand, he carries a small potted tree sapling, its leaves a pale orange. Then he belts out a laugh.

"Oh, no, I was just passing by!" he exclaims. The man's voice has the faintest Southern tinge to it, a "good 'ol boy" kind of voice. "I didn't think anyone else was here, other than Polly. I was walkin' down the hall and heard noises coming from behind this here door, and, well, it opening all of a sudden like that, it just surprised me, that's all."

"Woof! Woof!"

There's a barking sound, and I realize that there's a dog hidden somewhere behind the man's ample girth. I crane my head to look, but the fat man leans over with his hand outstretched, blocking my view.

"I'm Kaysen," he says. "Forrest Kaysen. I'm a sapling salesman. Always on the road, always on the move. Sometimes I feel less like a man and more like, I dunno, a jolly old bumblebee spreading pollen everywhere. But that's the price for keeping bread and honey on the table, right? Oh ho ho!"

His tone is friendly enough, but I'm bothered by a strange sense of familiarity. As if I've seen him somewhere before. You know what I'm talking about, Zach?

...You're drawing a blank too, huh? Well, it'll probably come back to me after I get some coffee in my system. In the meantime, it seems he wants us to shake hands. His flesh is soft, and slightly moist. I withdraw, suppressing the urge to wipe my hand on my jacket. Scenes from "The Kindred", directed by Stephen Carpenter in 1987, flash unbidden through my mind.

"Well, that's my story, anyway," Kaysen says, switching the potted plant to the hand I just shook. "And you must be that Special Agent Scarface Polly's been yakkin' about!"

"FBI Special Agent, Francis York Morgan," I say, flashing my badge. "And I think I'd need a bigger scar to live up to that nickname. Just call me York. That's what everyone calls me."

His laughter is so infectiously jolly that I can't help but smile along. "Okay, you got it, York! Nice to meetcha," he says, and winks.

Zach, at first I was a little perturbed that this man was standing between me and breakfast. But now that we've introduced ourselves, we ought to make time to get to know him a little better. He is a traveling salesman after all, here today and gone tomorrow. He could blow away on the wind at any moment... Well, maybe not with all that extra weight on him, but you know what I mean.

"Is this your first visit to Greenvale, then?" I inquire. Kaysen shakes his head.

"No sir; actually, I've been coming here once or twice a year for a while now. I don't get much business in these parts- after all, who needs trees when you're surrounded by 'em?- but it sure does make for a nice vacation! I mean, look at this gorgeous hotel. And at a bargain rate, too. Why, to be surrounded by this much nature and relaxation, I'd've paid twice as much for-"

He gestures expansively, and I catch a glimpse of a dog with white fur and black spots sitting obediently on the carpet behind Kaysen. As soon we notice each other, its large dark eyes gazing into my own, it trots forward past its master and stops about two feet away from me. It sits down again and thumps its tail on the floor, pink tongue lolling from its mouth. I crouch down to meet it face to face as Kaysen burbles merrily on.

"Oh, gosh, how rude of me. I haven't introduced you two! York, say hi to Willie. Don't worry, he won't bite. He's a good boy. And pretty darn smart, too!"

I feel a slight smile lifting the corners of my mouth. "Hey, Willie. How ya doing?"

The dog barks a response. Is it just me, Zach, or is Willie grinning back at us? It's so hard to tell what animals are really thinking. Up above, Kaysen hovers like an expectant mother.

"Did you ever own a dog as a kid, York?"

I stand up, brushing my knees. "I wasn't allowed to keep pets with fur in the house, actually. My mother was allergic."

Kaysen makes a sympathetic face. "Aw, that's really too bad! Willie and I have been together for so long, we might as well be joined at the hip. I don't know what I'd do without him, tell you the truth. In fact..." He beckons me closer with a sausage-like finger and stage-whispers, "Just between you and me, Willie here is kinda the brains of the whole operation. Oh ho ho ho!"

This time I join him in laughter. I can't help it- His good-humor is like a cold virus. I'm sure it's part of what makes him such a successful businessman. There are people out there who could sell legs to a fish, based on natural charisma alone.

After a few more words of small talk, the conversation wraps up and I start to head around him on my way to the dining room. But Kaysen snaps his fingers, says, "Oh, before I forget... Let me give you this. It's a sales sample, got a dozen of 'em in the truck. Here!" And he hands me the potted sapling.

I heft it, watching the pinkish-orange leaves tremble on their slender branches. The width of the trunk, if you can call it that, can't be much thicker than my index and middle fingers put together. There's an unformed quality to the color of the leaves and bark, hinting at some as yet unforeseen development in its growth cycle.

"Thanks... How kind of you," I murmur, turning it round to view every angle. Kaysen watches with a wide grin on his face, nodding approvingly.

"I don't mean to brag, but you're holding in your hands the product of years and years of experimental trial-and-error. I'm pretty much the only one who can make those beauties sprout, you know."

"Oh really?" Stay sharp, Zach. I think you know where this is leading. "Kaysen," I say, putting the little sapling down on the floor just outside the door to our room. "Would you mind joining us for breakfast? I have a few... gardening questions I'd like to ask you."

"Gardening, eh? You don't look much like a green thumb!" He guffaws. "But sure, I never say no to a good meal. Even if it's the second one of the morning. I just can't help myself!"

Ten minutes later, we're sitting across from him in the dining room, watching him put away whole rashers of bacon at a rate that would put a starving pack of hyenas to shame. Fortunately he's a much tidier eater than a wild animal, though. Not a drop is spilled or a crumb wasted as he brings the food to his mouth, his hands and jaw working in an almost graceful choreography. If it weren't for the fact that we have serious business to attend to, Zach, it would almost be like watching a ballet or opera performance. A virtuoso is a virtuoso no matter what the activity.

"So what did you want to ask me about?" he says, somehow managing to enunciate clearly even with his mouth full. Years of practice, perhaps. It seems he loves to talk as much as he loves to eat.

"What can you tell me about seeds?"

"Seeds? Like the kind my saplings come from?"

"Sure. You told me you were the only one who could make them grow. Tell me about that."

Kaysen wipes his mouth and wags a playful finger in our direction. "Now now, Agent York, I hope you're not trying to steal the secret formula! But it doesn't matter. There's a trick to it that can't really be passed on, you see... It's like the secret to making a good smoked ham. Speaking of ham, could you-"

I slide over the tray and he starts refilling his plate with thick slices of pinkish meat. Then he continues, "But you know, once they do sprout, you don't need to do much. You can leave it be, rain or shine, and it'll shoot up into a big 'ol tree no matter what happens. You know those stocks that politicians buy, the kind that keep on growin' and growin'. Like that, ya know?"

He stuffs his face and watches me intently. I ignore this last awkward analogy, saying, "There don't seem to be any of your trees here in Greenvale yet. Are you hoping to expand your market base?"

"Well, you just wait and see. This town is gonna love 'em. I'm always tryin' out new cultivation methods, and I think I've perfected it this time. Just be glad you got a freebie, 'cuz these things are gonna be in high demand by the time I'm through here!"

He laughs for about two minutes. I timed it.

"So what brings the ol' FBI out here?" he asks, the chuckles finally subsiding. "Sounds like more than just a vacation!"

"A murder, actually," I tell him, watching his eyes widen behind those thick glasses. I relate the basic facts, listing all the salient precautions from the community meeting and warning him about the perpetrator still being at large and to stay indoors when it rains. Kaysen shakes his head, actually seeming to lose his appetite for a moment.

"It's a darn shame, isn't it?" he sighs. "Places like this used to be like oases of safety. The best in America! Especially for raising kids, or so I've been told. Have you met the Ingrams? Lovely family. It breaks my heart to think something's out there that could put them in danger like this."

"Yes, though it seems that the young women are in the most perilous situation here. Still, the rest of us can't be too careful."

I hear Willie's barking coming from the hall. Kaysen hastily stands up, having magically produced another sapling from nowhere that he now tucks under his right arm.

"Drat, I almost forgot. Willie and I were just about to go on our morning stroll before bumping into you. I swear, if it weren't for that dog, I'd put my own head in a pot and try to water it... Well, it was nice meeting you, York. Good luck with the case!"

"Thanks," I say, once again taken aback by how swiftly the man moves. Kaysen makes his way to the doors, then turns around and calls, "By the way, I like the tie! Is it Valentine's Day already?"

And with a wave and another hearty laugh, the fat man jogs off, Willie trotting at his heels as the two of them disappear down the hall. At the same time, Polly emerges from the kitchen to clear away the dirty dishes. Her mouth falls open at the sight of the mountains of empty food trays scattered around me.

"Why, Mr. Morgan, you certainly were hungry today, weren't you?" she exclaims, bustling around. If anyone in this hotel is like a busy bumblebee, it's Polly Oxford. "I hope you enjoyed yourself!"

"It was as delicious as ever, Polly, thank you. ...Although, I can't take all the credit for eating all this food. I did have some help. You see, I just ran into Forrest Kaysen a moment ago, and-"

" Mr. Kaysen!" Polly claps her hands together, looking delighted. "Did he give you one of his saplings?"

"He did, actually," I say, surprised. "Don't tell me he gives one to everyone he meets."

"Oh no, just to the people he feels comfortable with. He told me himself. He must have liked you on sight, Mr. Morgan!"

Interesting, Zach... I wonder if this Kaysen fellow is a terribly good judge of character. Maybe the dog is the clue; that Willie seems like he'd be able to sniff out phony friendliness. The two of them seem to make a pretty team, and Kaysen did say they'd been together for a long time... I think I'd be envious of that relationship if it weren't for you, Zach. Personally I'd take you over a dog any day.

...What do you mean, what do I mean? It was a compliment, right? Besides, you can't take a dog to a movie theater. That's a partnership doomed to failure.

Polly starts stacking plates, and I lean over to ask her, "Polly, is there anyone in town he hasn't given a sapling to?"

"Mustard? I don't know what you're planning to put it on, but let me just grab it from the kitchen..."

"No, Polly, wait!" I remember at the last second to raise my voice. "I was just wondering if you knew of anyone Kaysen didn't give a sapling to!"

Her hand goes up to her mouth in concern. "Too much pepper? Ah, I thought it might be. I'm sorry... By the way, Mr. Morgan. Is that a new tie?"

"Yes, it is," I sigh, giving up. She's an impenetrable fortress, that woman. "The rest of my ties are at the dry cleaners."

"It's very dashing. Reminds me of something my Frederick would have worn. Well, then, Mr. Morgan. Shall I take your empty cup?"

I hand over the coffee mug, thinking about the dark dregs at the bottom and wondering if they still spell out those fateful letters that we saw on our first day here. The letters that have finally manifested themselves this morning...

FK.

Forrest Kaysen.

He's hiding something. You think so too, right Zach? But like Harry said, no need to rush... All secrets are hidden, until they are inevitably divulged through the powers of entropy. The world exposes everything, causes chaos... Just like milk in a mug of coffee. Sometimes you need to stir things up in order to see things as they truly are.

Well, then, Zach. That does it for breakfast. I believe I can see a police cruiser pulling up in the parking lot; perfect timing. I'm anticipating this art gallery meeting with bated breath- it's always exciting when you find that missing piece of the jigsaw buried in the sofa cushions, because even if you can't place it right away, at least you know the puzzle can be solved.

Miss Diane Ames. Even her name sounds elegant.

I wonder if Kaysen gave her a sapling, too?...

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