Chapter Two:

Danny answered the door while still brushing her teeth the first morning she was at Morton's cottage. "Hello, sheriff," she said out of the side of her mouth. "Morton's running some errands for me. Can I have him call you when he gets home?" She continued to brush furiously.

"Actually, I came to see you," he said.

"Oh," she let him in and led him to the kitchen where she spat a great dollop of toothpaste lather into the kitchen sink drain. "What do you need?" She rinsed her toothbrush as she waited for him to speak.

"I just want you to understand the seriousness of what you have done," he said solemnly as though she had been caught shoplifting and he was letting her go with a warning,

"Enlighten me," she said as she began loading the dishwasher.

"We have information that he has murdered four people. All we need are the bodies and irresputeable evidence before we can lock him up," the sheriff said.

"Big Foot's had witnesses, but it doesn't mean he exists," Danny said, starting the wash cycle for the dishes.

"Four people are dead, Danielle," he said, shocked by her reaction—or lack, thereof. "He put a screwdriver through his dog's head!"

"Yeah, I know where Chico is, sheriff," Danny said, turning to him. She escorted him to the window and pointed. "Right there, beneath the path. Now, until you do find the bodies and the irresputeable proof he really did murder those poor people, I'll be staying here. All right?"

"Sure," the sheriff said, making his way to the front door. As he walked out, Danny distinctly heard him mutter, "It's your funeral."

Danny shrugged and locked the door behind him. After turning on the stereo, she flopped onto the couch, removed the Slinky ( from under her leg, pulled her laptop onto her lap and began typing...

"How does the mind of a person suffering from split-personality disorder, insanity and criminal tendencies function? Your guess is as good as mine, I suppose. But pretend for just a moment, that such a person lived in your neighborhood... On your street... In the house next door... In your house...

"Wouldn't you like to know?

"I know I would.

"Actually, I do know... Now...

"And believe me, it's not fun..."

"These things are meant to try—"Galinda (on the CD) was cut off by a fierce pounding on the door. Sighing, Danny put her laptop on the coffee table and answered the door. Morton pushed past her and set some bags on the kitchen table. She pressed pause and helped him put the groceries away.

"How can you listen to that stuff? I thought you wanted to work in someplace quiet," he said as Danny folded the paper bags for recycling.

"You obviously have forgotten my definition of a quiet place," she said, smiling.

"Well, then?"

"A quiet place: (noun) an isolated location fit for one to two people to live and work comfortably, where they are allowed to listen to the 'Wicked' soundtrack for as long as they want, as loud as they want."

"I see you haven't changed much," Morton said, climbing the stairs to his study. "Just turn it down a little, okay?"

"Poor Galinda..."

And so their routine began. Danny would take her shower before breakfast, sleep in the bed and write in the living room. Morton, on the other hand, would take his shower after dinner, sleep on the couch, and work in the study. Every two days, they would switch. They took turns making meals and vacuuming since Morton had fired the cleaning lady the day the sheriff had visited Danny.

One day, after Danny had been living with Morton for almost two weeks, he came home from the general store and said, "Glenn's in town."

Danny didn't look up from her typing. "Is he now? Is he staying at the Hotel—"

"Yes," Morton cut her off. Apparently, he still felt a little touchy about his wife cheating on him with Ted there. "I invited him for dinner tonight."

"You do know it's your night to cook, right?" Danny asked, checking her spelling and finding half of what she wrote that day to be misspelled. Quietly growling, she succumbed to the will of the Paper Clip.

"He'll be over at seven. Be ready..."

~*~

Conversation over dinner was far and few between as well as forced. Right after she set out desert, Danny excused herself to the bedroom to escape the tension that was building over the table. Danny left the bedroom door open as she passed through to the bathroom to wash her face. As she was drying, she felt a breeze blow about her and a harsher wind blew in her ear. She closed the window and the men's voices drifted up the stairs.

"I'm warning you, Reiny," Glenn said. "If you do anything—"

"I've already been down that road, pilgrim," Morton interrupted. "You'll have no worries from me."

"I don't know you, so I don't trust you," Glenn said curtly. "And I don't trust her, either."

Danny heard a chair scrape. "Then why in hell are you marrying her?" Mort demanded loudly. "Don't you understand that marriage is based wholly on trust?" He hit the table as he spoke. "How would you be able to go to work without trusting her?"

Danny sat at the top of the stairs, wrapped her arms around her knees and leaned against the wall. She noticed there was a carved word at the baseboard, but she took no stock in it. She returned her attention back to the conversation in the kitchen.

"Why am I marrying her? Why am I marrying her?" Glenn said, outraged. Danny heard another chair fall over with a loud thud. "Because I love her, idiot! Why else would I marry her?"

Mort walked into the living room, then back into the kitchen without noticing Danny. "Love is founded in trust! How can you marry her—let alone love her—if you can't trust her?" he demanded of Glenn. There was no response. After a brief silence, Morton said, "She trusts you and she honors your relationship... I know she's a carefree girl. Just... just give her a chance, would ya?"

Morton walked back into the living room. Danny sniffed and he looked up at her. "Danny..." he began, seeing she was quietly crying. He started up the stairs, but before he was even halfway to her, she stood, entered the bedroom and locked the door.

Glenn walked out of the kitchen after putting his dishes in the sink. "Where is she?"

Morton pointed to the locked door. "I don't recommend talking to her right now. Try in the morning," he said.

Glenn rolled his eyes then stormed out. Morton finished climbing the stairs, knocked on the bedroom door and called, "Danny? Are you all right in there?" There was no answer. "Danny? Danny, can you hear me?" Still no answer. Starting to worry, Morton retrieved the key from atop the doorframe and unlocked the door. He tried opening it, but something was blocking the way. He shoved the door open and saw Danny had pushed the dresser against it. "Danny, where are you?" She wasn't in the bedroom, but the bathroom door was unusually closed. Morton knocked and opened the door. He found her sitting in the shower, still crying. "C'mon, Danny. Let's get you outta there." Morton held out his hand. She wiped her tears away and took it.

He helped her out of the shower and into the bedroom. Danny immediately sat on the bed and curled into the fetal position. Morton sat next to her and asked, "What's making you cry, Morning Glory?"

He had used his long-time nickname for her. Danny liked hearing it again; she missed it. She smiled a little and said, "I don't like listening to you two fight. Makes me feel like I did something terrible. I didn't, did I?"

"No, of course not," he told her. "It's not your fault if Glenn doesn't know and appreciate what he's got."

The power went out and they were thrust into darkness. "Um... yeah, darkness... What happened?" Danny asked, sitting up.

"Dunno," Morton muttered. "We're not really in a residential area so it happens every once in a while." Danny felt him shift into a laying position. "What time is it?" he asked.

Danny flopped down beside him, "You have a watch, use it," she said, yawning.

"It doesn't glow in the dark."

"Mine doesn't either. It's Frodo, remember?" She pulled out her cell phone and checked the time. "It's 9:31," she yawned. Quietly, she hummed "Johnny One Note."

Morton absently stroked her hair and asked, "What's that?"

"Johnny One Note," she answered. "It was in your senior play if you had auditioned for it."

"What was your senior play?"

"Bye, Bye, Birdie," Danny hummed a few bars from the main title. "Why? Did you forget, even though it was only two years after your own?"

"No... You were Ursula, right?" he asked, tickling her forearm gently. "That's where I got 'Morning Glory' from? Or am I mistaken?"

"No, you're right... 'What's the story, Morning Glory? What's the tale, Nightingale? Did you hear about Hugo and Kim?'" she sang softly. Danny stretched out into a more comfortable position that included cuddling closer to Morton.

He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her forehead. "If we both just fall asleep right now, would that be considered you cheating on Glenn?"

"I don't think so... We'd be actually sleeping and it's not like we're going to do anything more than that if we do fall asleep... Right?" she said quietly, falling asleep, comfortable in his arms.

"I suppose so..."

They gradually fell into sleep and didn't wake until morning when the phone rang loudly and shrilly at 10:03. Danny groped for the receiver and answered, "Hello? This is she. May I ask who's calling? I see..." She listened for a few moments, and then fell into a dead faint.

Morton took the receiver out of her limp hand and said, "Hello?"

The voice on the other end sounded like the sheriff, but Mort was so tired, he wasn't sure who it was. "Mr. Reiny, we're very sorry to disturb the two of you while you work, but this is important."

"What is it?"

"Mr. Glenn Wood was murdered in his hotel room last night. We need the two of you to come over as soon as she wakes up again."