"I'm going to see what I can find out about the foundation," Fenton said.
"I'll call the guys and let them know how Joe's doing," Frank said.
"No," Laura said. "It's Saturday night," she explained when he looked at her in surprise. "They are probably at Mr. Pizza. Go on and see your friends. They deserve more than a phone call."
Frank nodded. "Thanks," he said, leaving.
"Laura?" Fenton asked after Frank departed. "Are you okay?"
Laura nodded. "This has been harder on Frank than on us," she said. "But neither your nor I are in any condition to offer him the kind of support he needs right now. It's good he has friends who do."
Fenton patted her shoulder then headed upstairs to his office leaving Laura alone. She waited until she heard his door close then broke down crying.
*****************************************************
"Frank!" exclaimed Callie, leaping to her feet as he approached. "I didn't expect to see you tonight. How's Joe?"
'How's Joe?' he wondered. 'Where to begin?' Frank sat down in the chair Chet pulled from another table and looked at his friends, his expression more than a bit forlorn. "He's in the Wesley Lane Smith foundation for victims of anorexia in Bridgeport," he informed everyone. "But he claims he isn't really sick. He said he only lost all that weight so he could become a patient there."
"That doesn't make any sense," Biff stated, frowning.
"He said someone asked him to investigate the murder of her niece who was a patient there," Frank explained.
"Sounds like he thinks you won't let him stay there if you think he might get into trouble," Callie suggested. "Maybe it's just a ploy to get you and your parents to take him out."
"She's right," agreed Vanessa. "I mean, why wouldn't Joe tell you about it before now? It had to have taken him all summer to get that thin."
"He knew the last week of school," Frank said. "And he never told me because he said I would never have let him do that to himself. And he's right. I told mom and dad about it. They said after this is over we are grounded from solving mysteries until after high school."
"That's awful!" Callie exclaimed.
"I know," agreed Frank. "But they are right. Joe went too far this time. He should never have endangered himself this way."
"You sound like you believe there is a case," Vanessa observed. Frank nodded. "Why?" she asked. "Why would someone ask Joe for help that way and not you or your dad?"
"Because we know the woman whose niece was killed," answered Frank. "She's one of the FBI's most wanted but she kind of has a soft spot for Joe."
"Excuse me?" sputtered Phil. "How did that happen?"
"Joe and I have had the displeasure to cross paths with her a couple of times," Frank explained. "She's saved his life a few times but then, she's also nearly gotten him killed too."
"Maybe she lied to him so he would do something like this," Chet suggested. "I mean, if Joe kills himself she can't be blamed."
Frank shook his head. "Joe doesn't completely trust her either," he said. "And anyway, Dad is checking out everything tonight. If what Joe said is true, Ill be getting a job there as an orderly or a janitor."
*************************************************
Joe was roused from his sleep by a large man with a deep black beard and eyes almost as black as coal. "Time to get up," he was told.
Joe sat up and stretched then stood up and went with the man out the door and down the hall. Joe had been unconscious when he was admitted so this was his first glimpse of the place.
It wasn't too much different from a hospital except the nurses wore jeans as did the orderlies and there were no waiting rooms. The man who had awoken Joe took his arm and led him to a small room that held an examination table, scales, and a desk. Here, Joe was weighed and his blood pressure and temperature were taken and the numbers written down on his file.
Joe looked at the nametag of the man who was writing down the information. Rimes. "Ready for a shower?" Rimes asked, lying the pen down and turning back to look at Joe.
Joe nodded and Rimes led him out of the room and down the hall to a bathroom which had four stalls, four sinks and four showers. "How many patients do you have?" asked Joe.
"Does it matter?" Rimes countered.
"No," Joe admitted, acting intimidated. "I was just wondering because this isn't very big."
"We can house forty patients," Rimes informed Joe. "Although, there are only nineteen, including yourself, at the present."
"I guess you don't keep patients long since all we have to do is gain weight," Joe said.
"Not quiet," Rimes disagreed with Joe's assessment. "Gaining weight is like losing weight. It's a symptom. You won't get out of her until you're really starting to get better."
"How can you tell?" Joe asked curiously.
Rimes shrugged. "Honestly, I can't," he confessed. "But Dr. Turner can."
"Dr. Turner?"
"He's the psychiatrist," Rimes informed Joe. "You'll be seeing him after breakfast. Now get cleaned up," he instructed. "You're the only male patient at the moment and the only one using this bathroom so go ahead and choose a toothbrush. They are all new."
"This is kind of ridiculous," Joe said as he stepped onto the scales again before sitting down at the breakfast table almost an hour later.
"No, it isn't," Rimes denied. "These scales weigh by the gram."
"What does a gram or two matter?" demanded Joe.
"This is a research facility," Joe was informed as Rimes sat down in front of him. "Data is crucial even if we," his finger flicked from himself to Joe, "don't know what it is used for. Now, eat everything on your plate."
Joe looked down at the slice of dry toast and poached egg. "You've got to be kidding," he said.
"Nope. You eat it or you go back to your room and get a tube down your throat. Trust me," he added. "Being fed by a tube is not a good thing."
"But there's too much," Joe protested.
"You were one of the starvers, I take it," Rimes noted. "Not one of those who ate lettuce for every meal. Look, it's still low in calories," Rimes tried to coax him. "So eat it."
Joe sighed and picked up the toast. "At least you aren't giving me those nasty vitamins," he said with a small shiver as he took a little nip at the toast.
"I don't give any medications," Rimes informed Joe. "That comes when you get back to your room."
Joe eventually finished his toast and started on his egg. "How long have you worked here?" Joe asked.
"Inquisitive fellow, aren't you?" Rimes asked with a grin. Joe shrugged and looked at his plate.
"I've worked here for a little over a year now," Rimes answered Joe's question after he had finished eating in silence. "Come on," he said rising and looking down at Joe. "Back to the scales with you."
Joe stepped on the scales and then followed Rimes back to his room in silence. Apparently, he had goofed. Patients were supposed to be more reticent than he had been. He would have to watch himself. Until he had back up, he couldn't afford to make anyone suspicious of him. It could prove to be a fatal error.
"I'll call the guys and let them know how Joe's doing," Frank said.
"No," Laura said. "It's Saturday night," she explained when he looked at her in surprise. "They are probably at Mr. Pizza. Go on and see your friends. They deserve more than a phone call."
Frank nodded. "Thanks," he said, leaving.
"Laura?" Fenton asked after Frank departed. "Are you okay?"
Laura nodded. "This has been harder on Frank than on us," she said. "But neither your nor I are in any condition to offer him the kind of support he needs right now. It's good he has friends who do."
Fenton patted her shoulder then headed upstairs to his office leaving Laura alone. She waited until she heard his door close then broke down crying.
*****************************************************
"Frank!" exclaimed Callie, leaping to her feet as he approached. "I didn't expect to see you tonight. How's Joe?"
'How's Joe?' he wondered. 'Where to begin?' Frank sat down in the chair Chet pulled from another table and looked at his friends, his expression more than a bit forlorn. "He's in the Wesley Lane Smith foundation for victims of anorexia in Bridgeport," he informed everyone. "But he claims he isn't really sick. He said he only lost all that weight so he could become a patient there."
"That doesn't make any sense," Biff stated, frowning.
"He said someone asked him to investigate the murder of her niece who was a patient there," Frank explained.
"Sounds like he thinks you won't let him stay there if you think he might get into trouble," Callie suggested. "Maybe it's just a ploy to get you and your parents to take him out."
"She's right," agreed Vanessa. "I mean, why wouldn't Joe tell you about it before now? It had to have taken him all summer to get that thin."
"He knew the last week of school," Frank said. "And he never told me because he said I would never have let him do that to himself. And he's right. I told mom and dad about it. They said after this is over we are grounded from solving mysteries until after high school."
"That's awful!" Callie exclaimed.
"I know," agreed Frank. "But they are right. Joe went too far this time. He should never have endangered himself this way."
"You sound like you believe there is a case," Vanessa observed. Frank nodded. "Why?" she asked. "Why would someone ask Joe for help that way and not you or your dad?"
"Because we know the woman whose niece was killed," answered Frank. "She's one of the FBI's most wanted but she kind of has a soft spot for Joe."
"Excuse me?" sputtered Phil. "How did that happen?"
"Joe and I have had the displeasure to cross paths with her a couple of times," Frank explained. "She's saved his life a few times but then, she's also nearly gotten him killed too."
"Maybe she lied to him so he would do something like this," Chet suggested. "I mean, if Joe kills himself she can't be blamed."
Frank shook his head. "Joe doesn't completely trust her either," he said. "And anyway, Dad is checking out everything tonight. If what Joe said is true, Ill be getting a job there as an orderly or a janitor."
*************************************************
Joe was roused from his sleep by a large man with a deep black beard and eyes almost as black as coal. "Time to get up," he was told.
Joe sat up and stretched then stood up and went with the man out the door and down the hall. Joe had been unconscious when he was admitted so this was his first glimpse of the place.
It wasn't too much different from a hospital except the nurses wore jeans as did the orderlies and there were no waiting rooms. The man who had awoken Joe took his arm and led him to a small room that held an examination table, scales, and a desk. Here, Joe was weighed and his blood pressure and temperature were taken and the numbers written down on his file.
Joe looked at the nametag of the man who was writing down the information. Rimes. "Ready for a shower?" Rimes asked, lying the pen down and turning back to look at Joe.
Joe nodded and Rimes led him out of the room and down the hall to a bathroom which had four stalls, four sinks and four showers. "How many patients do you have?" asked Joe.
"Does it matter?" Rimes countered.
"No," Joe admitted, acting intimidated. "I was just wondering because this isn't very big."
"We can house forty patients," Rimes informed Joe. "Although, there are only nineteen, including yourself, at the present."
"I guess you don't keep patients long since all we have to do is gain weight," Joe said.
"Not quiet," Rimes disagreed with Joe's assessment. "Gaining weight is like losing weight. It's a symptom. You won't get out of her until you're really starting to get better."
"How can you tell?" Joe asked curiously.
Rimes shrugged. "Honestly, I can't," he confessed. "But Dr. Turner can."
"Dr. Turner?"
"He's the psychiatrist," Rimes informed Joe. "You'll be seeing him after breakfast. Now get cleaned up," he instructed. "You're the only male patient at the moment and the only one using this bathroom so go ahead and choose a toothbrush. They are all new."
"This is kind of ridiculous," Joe said as he stepped onto the scales again before sitting down at the breakfast table almost an hour later.
"No, it isn't," Rimes denied. "These scales weigh by the gram."
"What does a gram or two matter?" demanded Joe.
"This is a research facility," Joe was informed as Rimes sat down in front of him. "Data is crucial even if we," his finger flicked from himself to Joe, "don't know what it is used for. Now, eat everything on your plate."
Joe looked down at the slice of dry toast and poached egg. "You've got to be kidding," he said.
"Nope. You eat it or you go back to your room and get a tube down your throat. Trust me," he added. "Being fed by a tube is not a good thing."
"But there's too much," Joe protested.
"You were one of the starvers, I take it," Rimes noted. "Not one of those who ate lettuce for every meal. Look, it's still low in calories," Rimes tried to coax him. "So eat it."
Joe sighed and picked up the toast. "At least you aren't giving me those nasty vitamins," he said with a small shiver as he took a little nip at the toast.
"I don't give any medications," Rimes informed Joe. "That comes when you get back to your room."
Joe eventually finished his toast and started on his egg. "How long have you worked here?" Joe asked.
"Inquisitive fellow, aren't you?" Rimes asked with a grin. Joe shrugged and looked at his plate.
"I've worked here for a little over a year now," Rimes answered Joe's question after he had finished eating in silence. "Come on," he said rising and looking down at Joe. "Back to the scales with you."
Joe stepped on the scales and then followed Rimes back to his room in silence. Apparently, he had goofed. Patients were supposed to be more reticent than he had been. He would have to watch himself. Until he had back up, he couldn't afford to make anyone suspicious of him. It could prove to be a fatal error.