J.M.J.

Chapter XVII

Saturday, May 8

Day Eight

A drizzling rain fell most of the morning. It was a warm spring rain, but it was still enough to dampen Joe's mood. When he and his dad and Frank had gone to Southport, he had felt sure that they wouldn't return until they had found Iola, but here they were back in Bayport and they still didn't have any very solid leads. To make matters worse, Sam Radley was getting to follow up on the only really good lead they had gotten, namely checking on whether Rhett Gaint may have had a classmate who could be the killer.

It was hard to sit and think when all Joe wanted was action. It had officially been over a week since Iola's disappearance, and Joe knew perfectly well that kidnappings that went unsolved that long rarely had a happy ending. What appalled him even more was that he found himself not always thinking "When we solve this case…" but more and more "If we solve this case…" and sometimes even "If we don't solve this case…" He tried to shake those thoughts from his head. He had to keep his hopes up, but that was getting more difficult every day. If probably wasn't helping that on this particular morning, Joe decided to sit on the Hardys' front porch and watch the drizzling rain which only made him feel more hopeless the longer he sat there.

There was a fortunate intervention when Joe saw Jones Nonam round the corner and then come up the front walk, moving quickly to get out of the rain.

"Well," she greeted him, wringing the water out of her hair, "how come you're just sitting here in the rain like it's a sad scene in a low-budget movie?"

"There's nothing else to do," Joe replied staring straight ahead. "Dad said we needed to come back to Bayport to work on a 'possible lead', but there's not much to do with it and Dad's handling it himself, so might as well sit here. Frank's not around, by the way. He said he had to go for a walk and think."

Jones sat down next to him. "Hmm. There is one thing you can do here in Bayport. You can catch me up to speed on what's been happening on the case. Maybe a fresh set of eyes looking at it will catch something you guys missed."

Joe sighed. "This is kind of different from our other cases, Jones. I know it's not as personal to you, so I don't blame you for thinking that working on it would be fun, but it's not a game."

"Horseradish, Joe. It's exactly as serious as any other kidnapping case that you've ever worked on, and don't tell me that when it wasn't a personal case you didn't have fun working on it. Besides, Iola and I might not be best-buddies-sleepovers-every-weekend-share-all-our-darkest-secrets type friends, but we're still friends, and I want to help find her, so spill. Going over it again might help you see things more clearly, too."

"Horseradish?" Joe repeated uncertainly.

"Seriously? You're going to get caught up on my choice of non-swearwords to use in place of swearwords?"

"I was just wondering." Joe paused. "Maybe you do have a point. There's nothing else to do, so might as well."

He explained the whole case from the beginning, even going over things that Jones already knew just to refresh both their memories. Jones nodded as she listened, occasionally interjecting a question, but for the most part, she kept her thoughts to herself until Joe had finished.

"Well?" Joe asked at the end. "Are you seeing anything we missed?"

Jones drummed her fingernails on the porch railing. "Not yet. I'm still thinking. You know, I don't think Angelo has anything to do with the Southport Slayer—what a dumb name. Anyway, Allison getting attacked could have been connected to that, but most likely whatever and whoever that was had nothing to do with Angelo. I mean, come on, you really think the guy would try to fight his own brother with a knife?"

Joe rubbed his forehead which was still sore from being hit by the door in Angelo's apartment. "I think it's completely possible. He cut ties with his family a long time ago."

"Mm-hmm. So Mario was the one who told you he was in Southport, right? How did he know?"

A change of expression passed over Joe's face. "I…don't…know," he stammered. He did a facepalm. "I can't believe Frank and I never even thought to ask him. I'm going to find out right now."

He yanked his phone from his pocket and placed the call. Mario picked up quickly, his voice sounding like he was hoping for some good news. At another time, Joe might have felt bad for dashing those hopes unceremoniously, but at the moment, he was too anxious to hear the answer to worry about that. He asked his question without even taking time to say "hello."

"It was really off-handed," Mario told him in reply. "A friend of mine told me that a friend of his had seen Angelo in Southport."

"A friend of a friend, huh? What are these friends' names?"

"My friend is Don Buckley. I…You know, I don't think he mentioned his friend's name. I can ask him, if you think it's important."

"It could be," Joe said, thinking aloud. "I mean, what if this whole thing was a set-up somehow?"

"What do you mean?" The question came both from Mario over the phone and Jones at Joe's elbow.

"Maybe someone wanted Frank and me in Southport for some reason." Joe paused as a theory took shape in his head. "What if…That whole thing's been too easy."

"Too easy?" Jones said. "You were just lamenting about how you didn't have any leads."

"I know, I know. But listen. We get a lead to go to Marshall Given's apartment, right? We go there, find him half-dead, Angelo there, and Allison freaking out. Okay, that could be coincidence, some of that impeccable Hardy timing. But then we go to Angelo's apartment, at Allison's insistence, and he happens to be there again. What are the chances? Then, too, there's that reporter, Kelly Alston. She knew exactly where we were and who we were and wrote up stories about us like we were some kind of celebrities."

"But…" Mario started to protest, but Joe was on too much of a roll to listen.

"Then there's the evil mayor," Joe went on, "and the underfunded police department and what Durant said about Chief Osmund and what Osmund said about Tara Michaels and…I think I've got it!"

"You know where Iola is from all of that?" Jones asked incredulously.

"No." Joe flinched slightly as he realized that he had forgotten, even for a moment, about Iola in his excitement. "Everything else, though…Angelo and Tara Michaels. Mario, I think you and me and Frank and Belle and maybe Angelo and Allison and probably the serial killer have all been played."

"The serial killer?" Mario asked. "But I thought you said…"

"I don't know who he is, but he's coming in very handy for somebody. I've got to talk to Frank about this and see what he thinks. Mario, find out about that friend of your friend and let me know right away. If I'm right, he or she is definitely in on this. And tell Belle and either you or she needs to keep an eye on Allison every second. She might not be the innocent victim she's saying she is. And have you gotten a chance to talk to Angelo yet?"

"No, he refuses to see either Belle or me or Uncle John. He was finally able to get away from work and come up here."

"Okay, well, keep trying," Joe told him. "Tell him it's a matter of life or death that he has to talk to Frank and me or dad or even the police or somebody."

"Uh, okay."

"Thanks." Joe hung up the phone and turned to Jones. "Thanks to you, too. I wouldn't have figured this out if it wasn't for you."

"Uh, yeah, you're totally welcome," Jones replied, still confused. "I just wish I knew what I helped you figure out."

"No time now. I've got to find Frank and Dad." With that, Joe dashed across the yard, jumped into his car, and took off down the street.

HBHBHBHBHB

Despite having gone out to think, Frank's mind wasn't completely on the case right now. He started out reviewing and reweighing everything in his mind as he had begun walking with his hands in his jacket pockets and his head bent to keep the drizzle of rain out of his eyes. Then he had found himself on the same street as the Shaws' house, and at once his thoughts drifted from the case to what Joe had said about him and Callie. He hesitated and then he went up to the door. He knew that Callie had come home for the weekend, and if she was home right now, he might be able to get one thing sorted out, at least.

Callie herself answered the door. "Hi, Frank," she greeted him with a half-smile as she stepped out on the porch. "How did things go in Southport?"

"Not the greatest," Frank told her. "We came up with one possible lead, but, well, things didn't go too well. Actually, Joe and I wound up getting arrested."

Callie raised her eyebrows. "Seriously? What happened?"

"It's a little bit of a long story. Anyway, Sam got word that someone here in town might have been a witness. Dad's checking it out, but I think he was more interested in an excuse to get us out of Southport. He didn't want us investigating a serial killer."

"I can't really blame him," Callie admitted. She shivered slightly since she hadn't had time to put on a jacket before coming outside. Frank immediately took off his own and offered it to her. "We could just go inside," Callie said, hesitating about accepting the jacket.

"Yeah. It's just…" Frank tried to dig his toe into the floor. "I was hoping to talk to you privately."

Callie might have asked "About what?" but she already had a pretty good guess what it was. "Look, Frank, do you think this is really the best time? With everything going on, I don't think it would be right. Besides, depending on how this goes, I might need some time. Don't forget that Iola is one of my closest friends."

"I know. And you're right. But when this is over, we'll talk about it, right?"

"Right." Then Callie surprised him by suddenly reaching up and kissing him on the cheek. "Just in case you had any doubts, I really do like you a lot."

Frank grinned in spite of himself. "So do I. I mean…That is, I like you a lot."

He chuckled, feeling suddenly awkward, but when Callie joined in, it put him at his ease.

HBHBHBHBHB

As soon as Sam Radley got into Southport, he headed straight for the police station. The officer at the desk, Ewing, told him to go straight to Chief Osmund's office. That was good news to Sam, who thought that it meant that he was expected and Osmund was ready to brief him, but as he neared the door to the office, he quickly realized that wasn't the case.

"My hands were tied," Osmund was saying. His voice wasn't raised, but it was evident that he was putting every ounce of authority that he could muster into it. "There was nothing else I could do."

"Nothing else you could…" Durant's voice trailed off mid-sentence and when he started over again, he was decidedly less calm than his superior. "You could have done the right thing for a change! You might as well scratch that 'To protect and serve' off your badge. You only protect your own interests and serve your puppet master."
"That is enough, lieutenant." Osmund's voice went lower, and Sam thought that if he was spoken to that way by a superior, he would drop the subject immediately, whatever the subject was. "I'm chief of police in this city, not you. There's a lot more going on here than you realize. What I did wasn't a decision I'm proud of, but I'll stick to it because it's for the best in the long run."

"For the best!" Durant scoffed. "It's only for the best for you. And Hodgefield."

Osmund let out a hefty sigh and his professionalism left him. "I don't understand how anyone as dense as you can be such a good detective when you want to be. If you weren't so good at what you do and the only detective I have on my entire force, I would have fired you a long time ago. Now get out of my office before I decide to fire you anyway."

The door slammed open and Durant stalked out. He paused momentarily when he spotted Sam. Osmund saw him at the same time and for an awkward moment, all three men looked at one another, not sure what to say.

"Mr. Radley," Osmund said, recovering himself the quickest, "I didn't expect you so soon. Come on in."

Sam wordlessly went into the office, briefly making eye contact with Durant who took time to glare daggers at his chief one last time before leaving.

"I suppose you heard that," Osmund commented.

"It was a little hard to miss," Sam admitted. "If it doesn't have anything to do with the case, though, it's none of my business."

"The so-called Southport Slayer? No, I don't think it has to do with that one, but I think you may have an interest in it anyway. You see, Lieutenant Durant just learned that I had to have Angelo Beretta released from prison."

"What?" Sam couldn't help saying it. "But he was in jail on charges of attempted murder and kidnapping, and there are half a dozen eyewitnesses. What evidence could you possibly be lacking?"

Osmund folded his armed and turned away for a few seconds. "You heard Durant's crack about Mayor Hodgefield, I presume?" Sam nodded. "Durant's right about one thing: this was Hodgefield's idea. I don't know exactly what his interest is here, but he twisted our district attorney's arm and threatened to fire me. I literally had no choice, but that's not the story the paper's going to carry."

"Your reputation is what you're worried about right now?" Sam raised an incredulous eyebrow.

Osmend let out a huff as he took a seat at his desk. "In a way, yes, but not for the reason you're thinking. Look, I've been playing a long game here. If my reputation tanks and Hodgefield knows he can fire me without damaging his own fragile reputation, then it's game over. So, yeah, I am worried about my reputation."

"And what exactly is your game?"

"Not an easy one. This whole thing with you and the Hardys and Beretta has inadvertently forced me to play some cards I wasn't ready for yet. With this latest development, I'm backed in a corner. I either win now or I don't at all, and I'm hoping you'll be willing to help me. It's my only chance."

"I'm going to need more information than that."

Osmund took a key from his pocket and unlocked one of his desk drawers. Inside was a lock box which he used another key to open. There were several papers inside, but Osmund took a photograph from the top. He showed it to Sam.

"Have you ever seen this man before?" he asked.

It only took Sam a second to recognize the man in the picture. His eyes flicked up to meet the chief's. "So that's the game you're playing," Sam said, unconsciously speaking in a lower voice.

Osmund nodded. "Yeah. You see why I have to be so careful?"

"And you think he's got your mayor in his pocket?"

"I know he's got Mayor Hodgefield in his pocket. Blackmail. I don't the evidence, but it can't be anything else. I've done some checking into Beretta, too. He's mixed up in the whole thing, as well. That's probably why they had him released. If I can get a man who is competent enough to follow Beretta…"

"I get it." Sam let out a long breath. He thought for a few moments. "How long ago since Beretta left?"

"He hasn't left yet," Osmund said. "I arranged for it to take a little extra time. I expect he's going to straight to this guy or maybe one of the others. Either way, this could be the break I've been waiting for a long time."

"Or a suicide mission." Sam glanced at the photo again. "I don't know that I agree with your methods, but we can't pass up this opportunity. How do you want me to do this?"

Author's note: All right, I got this chapter out much sooner than I expected. Yay! I know it's a little cryptic. I want you all to have a chance to figure out for yourselves what's going on with Angelo and everything before I reveal it in the next chapter. Then, after that, it's simply a matter of capturing the serial killer and rescuing Iola. We're getting closer! Thank you for reading and thanks to everybody who has been reviewing, especially those of you who have reviewed almost every chapter! I appreciate it more than you realize—unless you're a fanfic writer yourself. ;) I hope you all have a great week! God bless!