J.M.J.

Author's note: Thank you for continuing to read! Thank you especially to Candylou, MargaretA66, ErinJordan, and max2013 for your reviews on the previous chapter! Enjoy and God bless!

Chapter XVIII

"Are you about ready to go?" Frank asked his brother, who was sitting in a chair in an out-of-the-way break area in the police station. Joe had rocked the chair back against the wall and looked half asleep, but also not quite. Frank knew that this day had felt like it was about a hundred housr long already, and it was only a little before two in the afternoon. It must have been worse for Joe, who had been forced to just sit around and wait once Gomez had finally finished asking him questions. After that, Gomez had kept Frank busy with laying out plans for different possible ways this whole situation could unfold and then, worst of all, notifying the Pritos about what had happened. Gomez had offered to handle that, but Frank had thought it would be better coming from him. The Pritos had taken it better than Frank expected. As Tony's dad had said, they felt confident that the Hardys could find Tony if anyone could. Only it isn't the Hardys; it's just me, Frank had thought, though he hadn't said it aloud. His parents had decided to stay in Florida to search for the assassin who had attacked them, and Joe was, well…

Joe rocked the chair forward onto all four legs with a loud bang. "I thought they'd never let us out of here. Let's go."

"Sorry it took so long," Frank said, trying hard not to sound annoyed. He was tired, too, and the impatience in Joe's tone rubbed him wrong.

He must have failed, because Joe rolled his eyes and muttered something that started with "I wouldn't have minded so much if…" Frank couldn't hear what conditions would have placated Joe.

They didn't say another word as they left the station. They had just about reached Joe's car when Shaun's topless Jeep came lurching into the parking lot. Callie was in the passenger seat, bracing herself against the dashboard, and as soon as the vehicle stopped, she jumped out and ran to Frank.

"I'm glad you're still here. I should have called, but I didn't even think of it until this minute." Callie's usual put-together demeanor was missing entirely, and the way that she grabbed onto Frank's hand told him that she was frightened.

"What happened?" Frank asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Callie said. "Angelo called me."

Those three words were enough to make both Frank and Joe stand up and pay attention. Even Shaun looked suddenly a little less out of tune with the world, as Callie hadn't actually told him before this what had gotten her so upset. Callie described the conversation and finished with asking Frank what they should do.

Frank took in a long breath. "That's up to Gomez, I guess."

"Haven't we had enough of Gomez's plans already?" Joe asked. "I say we should do what Angelo asks this time."

"We can't just go off on our own," Frank told him. It was really an effort to speak evenly. "Gomez has more experience than we do…"

"Really?" Joe cut him off sarcastically. "You know, I thought once I was a little older, I'd stop hearing the whole 'you're too young to know what you're doing' shtick. Nobody warned me I'd just start getting it from my own brother."

"I said 'we' in case you missed that," Frank retorted. "Gomez has a good twenty-five years on this job. He's literally been doing this since before we were born. Obviously, he has more experience than we possibly could. Besides, he's in charge of this case. He'll know how to handle it."

"Like he handled the last meeting, when I got tased and Tony got kidnapped because we didn't have any police protection because they were all busy playing dress-up with you," Joe snapped back. "Admit it: if Gomez would have let me go to that meeting instead, Tony wouldn't have been kidnapped."

"And if you would have been more careful, he definitely wouldn't have," Frank said. "What were you thinking, going outside in the middle of the night with everything going on? If you're not willing to defend yourself, at least don't go putting other people in danger, too."

The words were out of his mouth before he even realized he was saying them out loud. He meant them—in that moment, he could have said a lot worse—but he regretted actually saying them. Joe couldn't have looked more pained if Frank had actually hit him. In fact, that probably would have been less painful. He had had the door to his car open to get in but now he slammed it closed. He took a step closer to Frank.

"So that's how it is. Everything's my fault, as usual. Obviously, you couldn't have made a mistake. Nothing can be blamed on you, O infallible Frank Hardy. Just because you've never had to sort anything out or questioned what you were supposed to be doing, that makes you the ultimate authority. What does that makes me: crazy or just stupid?"

"Oh, come on, Joe. Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Frank snapped. "You've nothing else since that hostage situation last year. You'd think you'd gotten us all killed instead of coming out the big hero. If you can't let something like that go, then I'm with Gomez: you've got no business coming anywhere close to this investigation."

"The big hero, huh? I'm the one who did almost get us all killed, not that you'd remember. You were practically unconscious. You didn't have any decisions to make. Nothing was going to be on your conscience in any case. You didn't have to try to decide what you were going to be able to live with."

"So instead, you make it so nobody can live with you. No wonder Iola broke up with you."

Joe was in the act of balling his fists when Callie stepped in between them.

"Would you two stop it?" she demanded. She wanted to speak sternly, but her voice shook.

Shaun also stepped forward. "Hey, dudes, like, I get it that it's totally normal for siblings to not get along. I mean, I've got two sisters and we barely speak to each other anymore, so I know, but it just kind of seems to me like maybe this could wait for later."

Frank set his jaw and stared at Joe, practically daring his younger brother to actually try hitting him. Joe stared back, his hands still forming fists, but he wasn't going to do anything. Not with Callie in between them. Finally, he gave up. He relaxed his hands and almost staggered against the car, so that he was leaning his back against it. He passed a hand over his eyes. Then he reached into his pocket and took out his car keys. He handed these to Callie.

"You and your husband can use it however you need it. It seems to be the only thing I can contribute to this case. Shaun, any chance of getting a ride with you?"

"Sure thing," Shaun replied.

The two left in Shaun's Jeep. Neither Frank nor Callie said a word until the Jeep had pulled out of the parking lot and turned down the street. Then Callie turned to Frank, her eyes flashing with fury.

"What is the matter with you?" she demanded.

"Don't you start in on me, too," Frank complained.

"What? I should feel sorry for you? You started that and finished it, both with low blows. What were you thinking, blaming Joe for what happened to Tony?"

"It is mostly his fault," Frank insisted. "In a way, it's entirely his fault. If he hadn't come out here, none of this would have happened."

"Why are you so down on him all the time? You and he used to be best friends. What changed?"

"He did. Like I said, he's been wallowing in self-pity for over a year now. Honestly, I don't know how Tony and Phil and Shaun can stand it."

Callie shook her head in disbelief. "Well, he's not the only one who's changed."

Frank turned away so that he wouldn't be looking her in the eyes as he went on, "Do you think I like having to keep pushing him away from this case? Do you think I wouldn't love to have him actually help on it? Do you think I don't wish things were the way they used to be? I'd give anything to have the old Joe back, but he's the one who ran off to the other side of the country, never visits, never calls, never answers the phone when I call. He's made it clear he doesn't want anything to do with the rest of us, but now when, for the first time, it would be nice if he'd leave us alone because he isn't any help with this, he won't."

"That's still no reason to treat him that way."

Frank sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You're right, of course. I'll apologize to him. I'm just tired and frustrated…and worried. I can't shake the feeling that this isn't going to all work out this time."

"I thought you were the one who relied on logic in solving cases, not feelings."

"You can't make a very good detective without leaving room for a few instincts and feelings. I guess what I'm really worried about is that Joe is going to do something stupid and get himself killed and that it won't be entirely accidental."

Callie's lips parted slightly in an expression of horror. "You don't honestly think…"

"No," Frank admitted. "It wouldn't be on purpose, either. He just doesn't seem to care anymore."

HBHBHBHBHB

Meanwhile, Mario and Phil were driving aimlessly around the city in Mario's rented car. They said they were looking for clues, but they didn't really expect to happen on any in this way and they didn't know where specifically to look. The only sound in the car for a long time was the quiet hum of the radio, which Mario had turned down too low to really pay attention to, but it made for some kind of background noise. Phil was finding it more annoying than anything, but he didn't say so. He was of the personality that he would rather suffer a minor inconvenience until it drove him crazy than complain about it. Mario would have typically said more than he was doing now, but he wasn't in the mood for talking.

Suddenly, he hit the brakes so abruptly that Phil's seatbelt kicked in to hold him back against the seat. They were on a side street, so fortunately there wasn't much traffic, but there was a blare from the horn of a car a few lengths behind them that had had to brake quickly.

"What did you do that for?" Phil asked in annoyance.

"Sorry." Mario quickly pulled off the street and parked near where he had stopped. He turned in his seat, ducking down so that he could see out the window on Phil's side of the car. "This is the place. I'm sure of it."

Phil turned to look, too. They were parked in front of some kind of nightclub with a sign in front that promised adult entertainment. At this hour of the afternoon, it was closed, of course, but that didn't stop Phil from regarding the place with disgust.

"Um, what about it?" he asked.

"You heard about the photos some unknown person sent me, right?" Mario asked. "Angelo was standing in front of this club in one of them."

"So what does that mean?"

"I don't know. Maybe we can find out." Mario started undoing his seatbelt.

"The place is closed," Phil reminded him.

"I know, but there might be someone around. I'm going to take a look, at least."

He got out of the car, and after a second or two, Phil followed him. The building that housed the club was joined to the buildings on either side, so going around to the back was impossible without going all the way around the block. Mario went up to the door first and peered in through the window in it. The glass was too tinted to show whether the room inside was lighted or not, so Mario decided to try knocking.

This yielded no results, so he and Phil were forced to go around the block to the back after all. They found an alley and went down it. All the businesses in this row of buildings had back doors which looked the same, as did the brick walls that lined the alley. The only thing that broke up the monotony was that each business had their name and address painted on or next to their back door, probably for the sake of delivery drivers. Phil spotted the door for the nightclub first, but he let Mario have the honor of knocking on it.

At first, no one answered. Phil was inclined to leave, but Mario was determined to get some answers first. He continued rapping for several minutes straight. Finally, someone opened the door.

"Yeah, yeah, what is it?" the man at the door asked. He was in his forties and slightly overweight. His hair looked like it couldn't decide whether to turn gray or fall out first and he had a frown that very nearly intimidated the two friends. "Ange…Wait, no. You're not him. Who are you? What do you want? If you're here for a sneak preview, the girls aren't rehearsing today and even if they were, we don't let anyone in to rehearsals."

"Um, no, we have some questions, actually, about a man named Angelo Beretta," Mario said. "You seemed to mistake me for someone else. Was it Angelo?"

"Sure, you look a little like him, so at first glance I thought you were him." The man's frown deepened. "What do you want? Are you cops or something?"

"No, no," Mario assured him. "I'm Angelo's brother, Mario. This is a friend of mine, Phil. We're trying to find him. We think he might be in some trouble."

The man scoffed. "You think? If this is the same Angelo I know, then when hasn't he been in trouble?" He gestured for the two to come in. "I might be able to help you out. The name's Jazz."

"Jazz?" Phil couldn't help repeating as he followed Mario into the dingy interior.

"Sure. I used to play a mean sax, but that was a long time ago." Jazz gestured toward some chairs. "Sit down. Now, what do you want to know about Angelo?"

"We just want to find him," Mario said, taking a seat. "Do you have any idea where he is?"

Phil remained standing, taking in the room. It was part break room and part storage, and it looked like it hadn't had a good cleaning in quite a few years. There was a table in the middle with a thick layer of dust in the middle, but there were fingerprints and marks from items being set on the table near the edges. There was a gooey lump of some indescribable substance that had probably once been food right in front of the chair that it would be most natural for Phil to take, so he decided not to sit at all.

Jazz lit a cigarette and took a few puffs before answering. "No, I can't say I'd know where Angelo would be. He spends a lot of time here. If you came while we were open, you might run into him. Of course, he might not come so much since his favorite girl is in the hospital. She'd be the one to ask about where he's at."

"What's her name?"

"Her stage name or her real name?" Jazz asked with a smirk.

"Her real name will do just fine."

"Darcy."

Phil tensed at that revelation. "Darcy? What's she in the hospital for?"

"What's it to you?"

"I might know her."

Jazz shrugged. "She's got lots of guys who know her real well. She tried to kill herself. Actually did hang herself, but some good Samaritans got to her before it was too late, I hear. Good thing, too. She's one of our best performers."

"You mean, she…works here?" Phil asked. He took his glasses off so he could pass a hand over his eyes. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Hold on," Mario said. "Are you sure she and Angelo are an item?"

"They're not like boyfriend-girlfriend or anything," Jazz said. "But they sure spend a lot of time together. Angelo's the one who brought her here, as a matter of fact. That was, oh, three or four months ago. Even if she doesn't know where he is right now, she could tell you where he lives. She's been there often enough. As a matter of fact, half a dozen of the girls would know. He's not exactly a one-woman man."

"I don't think I needed to know that," Mario said. "Anyway, you said that Angelo is the one who brought Darcy here. He got her a job here?"

"I guess you could say it that way. It's not like he has any clout, if that's what you're getting at. He just said she was looking for work and we hired her."

"Was she living in town before that or had she just come?" Mario asked.

Jazz shrugged. "I don't ask the girls about their personal lives. They're here to entertain the customers. I don't care about anything else."

"Like treating them like people," Phil muttered just loud enough for the others to hear.

Jazz tossed his cigarette on the floor and stood. "Now, look here, kid, you come in here with your nose turned up so high it's a wonder you can see past it and make all sorts of judgments. These girls work hard and they deserve some respect. You don't get to decide what jobs are respectable and what ones aren't."

"I agree they deserve respect, and I guarantee they're not getting it around here," Phil replied.

"You'd be staring right along with every other guy in this place if you watched one of these shows."

"What does that have to do with anything? The point is that you and your customers are treating them as nothing more than a means to get some cheap pleasure and the second they get too old or gain too much weight to be attractive in your estimation or they decide they want to make something of themselves or even that they just don't want to do this anymore, you'll throw them out like yesterday's newspaper. And all the while you and guys like you act like you're empowering them by treating them like subhumans."

Jazz jabbed him in the chest with his forefinger. "And what do you think you're treating them like with all your high and mighty judgments? Jobs aren't so easy to find and living here's expensive, if you haven't noticed. These girls are grateful to have food on their tables and a roof over their heads. I suppose you'd rather see them in the streets."

"If they're so desperate for work, that takes blame away from them, but it makes it worse for you," Phil replied. "We can add 'taking advantage of desperate women' to the list of charges now."

Mario stood up and put a hand on Phil's shoulder. "Hey, you can try to get this guy to repent for his sins some other time. Right now, we need to go see Darcy."

A knot formed in Phil's stomach at the thought of that, but he nodded. "Yeah. I'm afraid you're right."