J.M.J.

Author's note: Thank you for continuing to read! In particular, thank you to everyone who left a review on the previous chapter!

Drumboy100: I hadn't thought about that. I will continue to think about this before I do anything rash. Thanks for the input!

MargaretA66 & max2013: Yes, it certainly seems that no one is overjoyed to see them.

ErinJordan: As always, I'm glad to have you aboard! I'm happy you're enjoying the story thus far!

I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Happy belated Mother's Day to all moms! God bless!

Chapter V

The group stopped in front of a closed door after going down a long corridor.

"This is the men's dormitory for volunteers," Alyssa Roche explained. "The women's is on the next floor. I hope you don't mind that this isn't exactly a five-star hotel. For that matter, it's not really a one-star hotel. I think beds are kind of an at-least-type requirement for a hotel. Hopefully, nobody has a bad back."

Biff opened the door and looked inside. Rather than beds, there were mats on the floor in straight lines down the sides of the room and another line down the middle. Each had several feet of space around it, but for most of them, that space was taken up by baggage.

"I see what you mean," he commented. "I hope those mats are more comfortable than they look."

"They're not. Sorry." Alyssa scrunched her face apologetically. "We'd all like beds, but you know, we're missionaries so we shouldn't be spending donations on ourselves. Sometimes I think it would be nice to have more donations and less volunteers so we could split the difference and at least buy beds."

"We need more of both," Jones said. "It's a lot of work running this place."

"Yeah, which makes that whole thing with Wanda really weird," Alyssa added. "Usually, she's thrilled out of her sneakers to have more volunteers, so why the cool reception to all of you?"

"You'd have to ask her that," Fenton told her evenly.

"There are showers in this place, right?" Joe asked by means of changing the subject.

"Oh, sure. We might be stuck sleeping on the floor, but we're not in the total Dark Ages here," Alyssa assured him. She pointed with her thumb toward a door on the other side of the hallway. "That's the men's restrooms and showers and the whole bit. They're open to the public, though, so be aware of that." She paused and gave them all a curious look, although she lingered the longest on Fenton. "Did I hear Jones right when she introduced you that your last name is Hardy?"

"That's right," Fenton confirmed.

"And you're friends of Jones and Jim." Alyssa shook her head. "You two never told me you had famous friends."

"You've heard of us?" Frank asked.

"Yeah, you could say that." Alyssa knit her eyebrows slightly. "I had an aunt who worked with you once, Mr. Hardy."

"You can call me Fenton. That wouldn't be Christine Roche, would it?"

Alyssa nodded. "She never got the chance to tell me anything about you, but I remember hearing your name when that whole thing happened. Funny coincidence, isn't it?"

"It is," Fenton agreed, although he was a bit reluctant about it. He didn't believe in coincidences until they were proven to be exactly that. "I'm sorry about what happened to your aunt."

"Thanks. She was a good agent. I think if she could have picked how she was going to go, it would have been a case like that. It certainly wasn't your fault." There was a distant look in Alyssa's eyes for a moment. Then she turned to Jones and Jim. "All right, you two, come on. Wanda has work for you to do, and we need to let these guys settle in for awhile. I know jetlag is a bear, so if you guys need to sleep the clock around, that's okay by me. I haven't scheduled you for any duties until tomorrow."

She steered Jim and Jones back down the corridor, leaving the Hardys and Biff alone. They went into the dormitory and took a precursory look around before setting their bags down near some mats that appeared to be free.

Joe crossed his arms. "This isn't any good. We're not going to have any privacy here to talk about the case and that Wanda seems like a total slave driver."

"Or a suspect," Frank commented.

Biff raised an eyebrow. "A lady who runs a mission as a suspect? You sure about that?"

Frank shrugged. "She's got something eating at her. Besides, Black Rose wouldn't be above trying something like that. Until we know more, we need to be careful around everybody, right, Dad?"

"Right." Fenton rubbed his chin. "We've already got several possible suspects. There's Edmund Wight, and then nobody here at the mission should be above suspicion, unless, like Jones, they weren't in the country at the time Foy Jie was murdered."

"Jones wouldn't be a suspect in any case," Frank maintained.

"You can't let your friendship with her cloud your judgment," Fenton told him. "You haven't seen her in awhile. People can change. In this case, though, I think Jones' alibi of being in the U.S. is sufficient."

Joe narrowed his eyes. "Hold on, Dad. What about Jim? We haven't seen him in several years, either, and he doesn't have an alibi like that."

"What?" Biff burst out. "Jim wouldn't have murdered anybody, especially not his own uncle. That's ridiculous. I mean…Well, at any rate, if he did, why would he ask you guys to come and investigate?"

"To throw everyone investigating off the scent," Fenton replied promptly. "It wouldn't be the first time it's happened. I hope that Jim's not the killer, but we can't completely dismiss the idea."

Biff folded his arms and sat cross-legged on his mat. "He's not. I can guarantee it."

"There's no point in arguing about it," Frank told him. "We'll work on ruling him out as a suspect first thing. Just don't go telling him that we haven't done it yet."

"Sounds fair to me," Joe agreed. He unzipped his bag and pulled some soft clothes out of it. "Now I'm going to go take a shower and then get some sleep. I'm pretty sure it's the middle of the night in Bayport, and like Alyssa said, jetlag is a bear, not to mention twelve hours in a plane."

"I think we'd all better get some sleep," Fenton said.

HBHBHBHBHB

It was dark by the time Biff woke up. There was a moment of confusion as his sleep-fogged brain tried to figure out what he was doing sleeping on the floor and what time it was and why he was so hungry. Then it all started coming back to him, and he also remembered that he hadn't eaten any supper. Considering his last meal had been on the plane, he wasn't even sure what meal that would have counted as.

He lay there for a few minutes, debating what to do. The rational thing to do was to just lie there and wait for breakfast. The problem with that was that he had already slept probably ten hours and it might be hard getting back to sleep for the rest of the night, especially since he checked his phone and it wasn't even midnight yet. It would practically be torture to lie there awake and starve for the next seven or eight hours until breakfast. On the other hand, he hadn't gotten a tour of the place yet, so he didn't even know where the kitchen was.

Just as he was resigning himself to waiting for morning, his stomach growled loudly. That wouldn't do. He'd wake everyone else up with all that noise. It would be for everyone's benefit if he got up and went in search of a snack.

"I'm starting to sound like Chet Morton," Biff grumbled to himself as he got up and crept out of the room.

It was awkward because there were several other men sleeping on mats who hadn't been there when Biff had gone to sleep. It made him uneasy, thinking of all those strangers being in the same room as him while he had been asleep, even if they were all missionaries. Suppose one of them was the murderer? The Hardys seemed to think that someone at the mission could be the killer.

Biff frowned thoughtfully at that as he slipped out of the door. Why should someone at the mission be the murderer? As far as they knew, the only connection between the Foys and the mission was Jones and the fact that she had apparently roped Jim into helping there. It probably wouldn't be such a bad idea, since this way, Jim wouldn't be alone, but it certainly didn't leave any reason why the murderer would be hanging out around there, too, unless Biff had missed something. He would ask the Hardys in the morning.

He walked down the corridor to the main room where he and the Hardys had entered the building earlier. It caught him off-guard when he saw that there were a number of people sleeping on mats on the floor here. He froze, hoping he hadn't woken anyone up, but nobody moved. By this time, he was starting to think that it would be best to just go back.

Before he had a chance to turn back or do anything at all, someone whispered behind him, "What are you doing?"

Biff yelped and jumped, clamping his hand over his mouth as he did so. He turned around to find Alyssa standing there.

"What are you doing?" she asked again. "It's the middle of the night."

"But it's the middle of the day in Bayport and I haven't eaten since…I don't even know how to calculate that."

Alyssa slapped her forehead. "For crying out loud! We forgot to feed you guys when you got here. Some hosts we are! Especially when we're supposed to be feeding the hungry and all that. Wanda's got a strict no-snacking policy for the volunteers, but I think this merits an exception to the rule. Come on. We'll find something for you."

She gestured for Biff to follow her and she led him back down the corridor, around a corner, down another corridor, and through a door that led into a kitchen. She flipped a light switch on, and Biff saw that there were several refrigerators. He made straight for the nearest one.

"Say, what are you doing awake so late?" he asked as he surveyed the contents of the fridge.

"There has to be at least a couple of volunteers awake at all times," Alyssa explained. "You know, just in case there's some trouble or an emergency or something." She sat down at the table and crossed her legs. "So, tell me about yourself, Biff. Is that your real name?"

Biff picked out the stuff to make a sandwich, since that looked like the most home-like food he could see, and carried it over to the table. He started making the sandwich while he talked. "No, it's actually a nickname. My real name is Alan, but not even my parents call me that. The only one who does is my grandma."

Alyssa chuckled. "There must be a story behind a nickname that sticks that fast."

"Not really. I had a great-uncle who was a boxer and used the name Biff. Back then, I always wanted to be a boxer, so he was kind of a hero of mine. Then somewhere along the line, everyone started calling me Biff, too."

"Huh." Alyssa pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Have you known the Hardys for long?"

"Oh, sure. We've known each other about a million years." Biff froze, wondering whether that counted a joke or not. "I mean, we've known each other fifteen or sixteen years."

"Eh, that's pretty close to a million. Fifteen or sixteen years definitely feels that way to me. I'm not exactly where I was thinking I'd be back then."

"Where did you think you'd be?" Biff sat down and took a bite out of his sandwich.

Alyssa shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. An actress, a pilot, a doctor. I was only, like, twelve, and I had a hard time making up my mind what I wanted to do with my life. Being a missionary really wasn't on my radar, though."

Biff grinned. "Me, too. If my high school math teacher knew what I was doing right now…Er, I mean, being a missionary is a very serious business, so all my old teachers would be proud of me."

"You're a funny kid. You can loosen up, you know."

"Uh, yeah." Biff took another bite of sandwich to buy time to think. It probably wouldn't be so great to tell Alyssa anything more since she was, apparently, a suspect. "So, uh, what did make you decide to do this?"

Alyssa sat back in her chair and thought for a few moments. "I've wondered that myself, sometimes. It was my aunt, I guess. The one I was talking about earlier. She gave her life serving other people. It seems to me I can at least give up a little bit of time doing something similar."

"How long have you been here?"

"I'm a newbie, too. I just got here a few weeks ago."

Biff let out a breath. That cleared Alyssa.

HBHBHBHBHB

It wasn't many minutes after Biff had gotten up that Frank stirred. The time difference of being on the opposite side of the world was wreaking havoc on his internal clock, as well, and it wasn't long before he realized he wasn't likely to get to sleep again any time soon. He knew he should try, since it was important to get used to Ziyou time, but he couldn't manage it. He thought that maybe if he got up and took a walk, he would be able to get to sleep again when he got back.

Like Biff, he didn't know his way around, but after stumbling around blindly for a little while, he found a door that led outside. It went to what looked like a vegetable garden and orchard in the moonlight. That made sense. The mission might as well grow fruit and vegetables if they had the land for it. The people they served could even work in the garden, giving them a sense of purpose. All in all, it seemed like a good idea.

Frank wandered down into the garden and walked in between the rows of vegetables, some of which he wasn't familiar with. He had reached the end of the garden and the beginning of the orchard and was about to turn around when he heard a sound that made him pause and listen. It only took a moment to identify the sound; it was a woman crying somewhere in the orchard.

At once, Frank's detective instincts were aroused, and he cautiously approached the source of the sound. He found her quickly, sitting with her back against a tree trunk and her knees drawn up in front of her so that she could rest her forehead and arms on them. The moonlight struck her blond hair, so Frank guessed that she must be one of the American volunteers rather than a local.

"Are you okay?" Frank asked.

The woman leaped to her feet and began savagely wiping the tears away. As soon as she did, Frank saw that it was Jones. "Oh, gosh, Frank, this is the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me. You didn't follow me, did you?"

"Of course not. But what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Jones stopped herself. "Okay, obviously there's something, but it's not a big deal. It's just that I'm a total idiot. Oh, seriously, it should be illegal to be as dumb as I am. Just go away and let me worry about it. There's nothing you can do about it, anyway."

Frank wasn't sure what to make of this, but as he glanced around at the dark orchard, he made up his mind that he wasn't going to leave Jones alone out there. "If it's not a big deal, maybe you'd better come inside. I don't know if it's safe out here after dark, but it's definitely safer inside."

Jones sighed and then sniffled. "You're right, I guess, but of all people who could have stumbled into me, why did it have to be you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, nothing. I'm just being dumb again."

"Stop saying you're dumb, okay? What did you do? I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

Jones sighed. "It's the second dumbest thing I've ever done in my whole life."

"Then it definitely wasn't that bad, because as far as I know, you've never done anything too dumb." Frank took her by the arm to guide her back inside, but to his surprise, she shivered at his touch. He pulled his hand away. "Are you sure you're okay? What's bothering you?"

Jones pushed her hair back away from her face. "I've done something that was really unfair to somebody that I care about, and there really isn't anything I can do about, because this other person doesn't even realize, so if I just hold it together, the situation will resolve itself."

"What did you do?"

Jones shook her head. "I'd rather not say. I'm sorry you found me like this. I was hoping we could have fun while you were here, like old times working on a mystery."

The pieces started clicking together for Frank. "Hold on. How much like old times?"

His and Jones' eyes met, and even in the fragile moonlight, Frank could see the answer there. Jones turned away quickly and headed back toward the building.

"Wait, Jones. We need to talk about this." Frank trotted a few steps to catch up with her. "I thought there wasn't anything between us besides friendship."

"There isn't," Jones replied, although even her denial of the facts gave her away.

By this time, they were back in the garden. Frank was trying to think how to deal with this situation when there was a sound like someone stepping on a dry twig back in the orchard. Both he and Jones looked over their shoulders, but they didn't see anyone.

"Do people spend a lot of time in the orchard around here?" Frank asked.

"Not in the middle of the night," Jones said.

"It's probably nothing," Frank said, "but I'll go check it out, just in case."

He didn't bother with caution until he was under the boughs of the orchard, since there was no cover in the garden anyway. Even though he walked several yards back into the orchard, he didn't see or hear anyone else. He decided to go back, and was just letting down his guard as he turned around, when something large hit him in the back and sent him sprawling.

Frank's first instinct was to twist himself around, but it was a person who had hit him from behind and they had wrapped their arms around his waist tightly. All he could do was kick and try to break free.

"Frank! What's going on?" he heard Jones call from nearby.

Frank's attacker evidently didn't expect to hear her shout, and he loosened his grip on Frank just enough to let him break away. Instantly, he turned around and came up swinging. His assailant blocked his first punch, although Frank landed a second one solidly in the man's side.

It didn't seem to faze the attacker, who Frank could see was a large, muscular man. Barely flinching from Frank's blow, the man landed one of his huge fists just below Frank's ribcage, knocking the wind out of him for a moment. Then he got him by the throat and shoved him against the trunk of a tree.

"Let him go!" Jones shouted. She had heard the scuffle and come closer to see what was happening.

"Going for a moonlight walk with your girlfriend?" the thug asked in a local accent, although his English was good. "That's just fine. You'll be so busy looking for her, you'll forget all about Foy."

He slammed Frank's head against the trunk, and the last thing Frank heard before he slipped into unconsciousness was Jones' scream.