Chapter Sixteen

It was a dread to leave Vann's home and see the level of damage that the final earthquake had done to Los Angeles. But once the police units that Tragg had called for arrived, as well as the cabs that Douglas had sent for, the group had to brave the scene.

Della cringed as they stepped onto the porch. One of the white pillars holding up the overhang was now at the point of collapse. They had to be careful not to bump it. "How horrible!" she exclaimed. The yard was completely overturned. The gate was partially coming out of its foundation. A large tree was almost on the ground. Several heavy branches from it already were. And from her vantage point, it was clear that the destruction continued far below the hill.

Perry frowned, keeping his arm around her shoulders. "How bad is it in the city?" he asked Officer Jimmy Anderson, who was jogging up to the porch.

Jimmy sighed, shaking his head. "Well, it's not good," he said. "I know Los Angeles has seen worse, but this is the worst quake we've had in a while. At least, that's what I've heard." He caught sight of Andy, who was making his way to the front of the procession. "Andy, what happened?"

Andy looked weary himself. "Before I answer that, how much do you remember, Jimmy?" he asked.

"Everything!" Jimmy exclaimed. "I have all my normal memories, but I also remember all these weird things that have been happening the last few days. I remember how a lot of us were going around in a fog, not even knowing each other or holding the same jobs. Andy, you were a principal!"

"I know, I know," Andy said, waving his hands to silence his cousin. "I'm going to have a rough time explaining this to the school board."

"I think all of L.A. is confused," Jimmy said. "They're also finally waking up about transportation. They can't figure out why everything was grounded or why no one could leave the county limits."

"I wonder if it would make it better or worse to tell them all the full truth," Perry commented.

"With the state they're in now, they might actually believe it!" Jimmy said.

"Only to dismiss it when they're over the initial shock," Andy said. He glanced back at the house. "In answer to your question, Jimmy, we've just come from the final battle against the villains Mr. Burger and Mr. Drake told us about. That's why everyone's memories are back."

"Mr. Vann and Flo are here," Tragg said as he and Steve led them out.

"Vivalene's unconscious," Steve said. "We sent for an ambulance to pick her up."

Jimmy gaped. "What kind of trouble did she get herself into?"

Andy glanced back at Hamilton, who was making his way down the stairs with Perry and Mignon assisting. "Let's just say her plans backfired," he said.

Jimmy followed his gaze. "Is Mr. Burger hurt?" he exclaimed.

Overhearing, Hamilton looked up. "Not seriously," he was quick to interject.

Mignon shot him a Look. "I hope you're still planning to let a doctor decide that," she said.

Hamilton sighed. "Yes. Don't worry, Mignon."

"I'll drive," she told him.

"We can get your statements later, if that would be better," Jimmy said.

"I'll give you my side of it right now," Andy said.

"As will I," Tragg said, noticeably subdued.

Andy looked back to him. You don't have to tell it all, he said with his eyes.

Tragg waved him off. He would tell as much as he felt he could without making himself sound insane.

Della followed Perry, Mignon, and Hamilton to Hamilton's car. Hamilton passed the keys to Mignon, looking relieved to sink into the passenger seat.

Perry glanced over his shoulder. "I'll stay and give my statement too," he determined. "Andy was driving my car, since my arm was injured."

"You don't need to stay here, Perry," Della said. "I'll drive. I'll be ready to go in just a few minutes."

Perry smiled. "Well, in that case, I may just change my plans."

He looked to Hamilton. Though he wanted to talk with his fellow attorney, this did not seem the right time or place. But if it were not for how worn-out Hamilton looked, Perry might have decided to take a lesson from Mignon and spoken with him anyway. There was a lot he wanted to say, so he determined to wait.

"Hamilton. Let me know how it goes," he requested instead.

Hamilton regarded him in momentary confusion. "Huh? Oh. With the doctor. Of course." Understanding dawned in his eyes.

Perry nodded. "I'll see you later." He stepped aside to talk with Paul, sensing that Della wanted a private moment.

Mignon moved away from the car as well. "I need to see if anyone else is coming with us," she said. "We might not need the cabs, depending on how many are staying here."

Hamilton nodded. "Go ahead," he said. "I'll wait here." He closed his eyes, resting against the car's plush seat.

Della hesitated. Now that they were alone she was contemplating what she wanted to say. How could she put all of her thoughts, all of her feelings into a few words? So much had happened.

"You didn't get hurt in that last earthquake, did you?"

She started. She had not even realized that Hamilton knew she had stayed. "What? . . . No," she hurried to add as his question processed. "No, I didn't get hurt at all. Perry was shielding me. Mignon was protecting you," she recalled.

"I thought everyone thought I was dead then."

"We did," Della said, quietly. "But at that point we were still clinging to a thread of hope. And . . . Mignon didn't want any falling debris to hurt you more, even if you were . . ." She trailed off. It was hard to know how to even phrase that statement so it did not sound preposterous—or at least impractical.

But Hamilton understood. He sighed quietly in a way that indicated his regret over how Mignon and the rest had agonized for him.

Sensing she should change the subject, Della said, "It's strange. I didn't have much trouble at all believing what you and Paul were saying. It sounded so right. And now that I remember everything, the last few days don't feel real." Her voice lowered. "But they were."

Hamilton opened his eyes, looking to her. "You were the first to believe us without any baggage attached," he said. "That meant a lot."

Della smiled, but it was bittersweet. "What Vivalene did was just outrageous," she said as she sobered. "And I don't understand what she had against you. Was it really just that you were prosecuting her?"

"I don't know," Hamilton admitted. "We probably never will, either."

"Well." Out of the corner of her eye Della saw that Mignon was coming back. "I should let you go. Please just rest easy for a while," she implored, touching his shoulder.

"Don't worry," Hamilton said. "I should be able to now. You go make sure that Perry doesn't try driving himself home."

Della straightened in mock indignation. "He'd better not!" She started to leave, then glanced back with a smile. "Goodnight, Mr. Burger."

"Goodnight," Hamilton returned.

He watched her walk over to Perry and Paul. When Mignon opened the driver's door of the car, however, he turned his attention to her.

"Lieutenant Drumm says he'll ride back in one of the squad cars," Mignon said. "The Petersons are going to take a cab when they finish giving their statements. And Mr. Drake will ride back with Mr. Mason and Miss Street."

"So it's just us and Larry," Hamilton deduced.

Mignon nodded. "He's coming now." She wanted to have both of them checked out by a doctor as soon as possible. And she would just as soon be alone with them on the journey. She was still deeply shaken by what had happened, albeit now she had managed to give herself the outward appearance of calm.

When Larry reached the car, he had Howie in tow. "Someone here wants to say goodbye," he announced. Stumbling a bit, he pulled open the back door and climbed into the car. Mignon watched him in concern. "I'm alright, Mother," he tried in vain to reassure her.

The kid looked up at Hamilton with plaintive eyes. "You're gonna be okay, aren't you?" he asked.

Hamilton smiled at him. "Of course," he said. "I'll call you when I get home, if it's not too late."

Howie beamed. "It won't be too late!" he declared. Not wanting to hold them up, he said his goodbyes and hurried back to his parents. Halfway there, he turned and waved. Hamilton returned the gesture.

He fumbled with the seatbelt, finally clicking it into place. He knew Mignon was not really as composed as she wanted to appear. She abhorred being vulnerable, not only for herself but because she could not stand to do anything that would make others worry about her. Of course, it was worrisome when she sealed herself off too. There was no way to know what was going through her mind.

He sensed that she intended to stay quiet for a while, perhaps as she tried to get to where she would not break down the moment she opened her mouth. Perhaps he should follow suit and just wait until after being examined to say anything.

He leaned against the headrest, again closing his eyes.

xxxx

"So, what did Hamilton have to say?"

Della gave Perry a slightly amused, coy smirk as she opened the door of his car. "He was worried about you trying to drive yourself home," she said.

"Oh, was he now." Perry slid into the passenger seat.

"Mmhmm." Della waited for Paul and then got in as well, starting the engine.

Paul leaned back, draping an arm across the top of the backseat's headrest. "Boy, has this been a bizarre few days," he declared. "It's hard to believe that everything's going back to normal."

"That's an understatement, I'm afraid," Perry remarked. "Paul, I'm sorry that we gave you and Hamilton so much trouble."

"It's not like you could help it," Paul said with a sigh.

"I feel terrible about it anyway," Perry said. He shook his head. "A couple of hours ago I was talking about how strange it was to think of our lives being lies. Now I'm wondering how I ever believed any of what I thought was true. I forgot not only the nature of my relationships with certain people, but other certain people altogether."

"You weren't the only one," Della said. She kept her eyes on the road as she spoke. "But it was interesting what happened, how I found a newspaper with an article about your latest case. Something drew me to it. I had the oddest feeling that I should have been in the courtroom, taking notes. So I bought the paper and puzzled over it. When Andy told me Paul had been looking for me, and what he had been saying, I was more confused than ever!"

Perry nodded. "And when Hamilton first mentioned your name, it was the only thing about his stories that really stood out. I didn't know why and I didn't understand how, but I knew I had to find out who you were."

"Vivalene and her crew must have been livid when they realized that the spell hadn't quite worked as they had planned," Della remarked.

"Naturally," Perry said. "That was why they worked so hard to keep us apart—causing me to get into a wreck, abducting you and Paul and Andy. . . ."

"And in the end they still couldn't win," Paul interjected.

Della shook her head. "I wonder if they really thought that us meeting would break the spell altogether."

"They must have been afraid it would," Perry said. "And I suppose that, indirectly, they were right. Their influence over you began to crumble shortly after that. You were anxious to jump in and believe what you'd been told. It was your attitude that led to myself and the others becoming more receptive."

"There, you see? Never doubt the power of a woman's mind," Della smiled.

"Oh, I don't," said Perry.

The sight of the damaged streets sobered them all as they continued to downtown Los Angeles. Della shook her head.

"I was hoping that when the spell broke, it might take care of all of this destruction too," she said. "I guess that was a silly hope. It would only happen in children's fairy stories."

"This entire experience has been rather like a fairytale in some ways," Perry mused. "An evil witch, a cruel spell, the heroes up against seemingly unattainable odds. . . . Even the idea of an enchanted death." But he fell somber at these words.

". . . I really thought we'd lost him." Paul spoke quietly.

Della nodded. "The fall could have killed him even though the blast didn't," she said.

"One thing's sure," Perry said. "Someone was watching over him."

"I think that goes for all of us," Della said.

"I agree," Perry said.

Soon they arrived at Paul's residence. He climbed out, surveying the building with a scrutinizing and suspicious eye. "It looks like it's still standing," he said.

"We could come in with you and make sure everything's in order," Perry offered.

"No, that's okay." Paul waved a dismissive hand. "If the furniture's fallen on the bed I'll just move it and pick things up later."

"If you're sure," Della said, doubtfully.

"I'm sure," Paul said. "Don't stay out too late, kids!" He waved as he shut the car door and headed up the walk.

Della shook her head. "He's in high spirits," she remarked.

"Don't be so sure," Perry said. "I believe Paul is quite shaken by what happened."

Della waited a moment to be sure Paul was not coming back out before she started the engine. "I knew he had a soft spot for Mr. Burger," she said.

Perry nodded. "Of course, Paul wouldn't want anyone to be dead," he said. "But for it to have been Hamilton affected him even more than he probably thought it would."

Della drove in silence for a time. ". . . Perry . . . what if all of us had forgotten?" she wondered. "Mr. Burger and Paul too. What would have happened to us then?"

"I'm sure I don't know." Perry pondered on the question. It had been in his mind as well. "I like to think that we still would have found each other. And then perhaps the spell still would have weakened and eventually broke."

"But it could have taken months, even years." Della's voice was nearly a whisper.

"Yes," Perry agreed. "It could have."

"We would have lost so much of our lives before finding the truth again." Della pulled up in front of Perry's apartment building.

Perry shifted to look at her as she turned off the engine. "We owe so much to both Paul and Hamilton," he said. "I and some of the others made it so difficult for them, but they never gave up."

Della passed him the car keys, their hands touching as she did. "I'll never stop being thankful for what they did," she said, looking into his eyes. "And for whatever caused them to keep their memories in the first place."

Perry smiled. "We both will."

Suddenly realizing something, he looked down at the keys. "Wait a minute, how will you get home without taking my car?"

"I'll call a cab," Della said.

"There's no need for that." Perry passed the keys back to her. "I can't drive for a few days anyway. Go ahead and drive my car home. Tomorrow, you can pick me up for a change."

Della looked down at the small metal objects in her hand. Her surprise lasted for only a moment. "Alright," she smiled. "I'll be over bright and early, Mr. Mason."

Perry glanced at his watch. "Maybe we'd better make it 'bright and slightly later'," he mused. "Unless we want to show up after two hours of sleep."

Della looked at her own watch, wincing to see the time. "We don't have any pressing cases," she said. "I'm sure that would be just fine."

"Good," Perry smiled. "Then I'll expect you at ten o'clock sharp."

Della quirked an eyebrow. "You're feeling daring," she said. "We'll get four hours of sleep."

"Well," Perry said, reaching to open the passenger door, "that's not so bad, is it?" His smile was mischievous. "We may not have any pressing cases now, but who knows what tomorrow will bring."

Della watched him, shaking her head. "I can't say I missed the long hours," she said. "When I was teaching school I was always asleep by a reasonable time."

"Ah, but it wasn't anywhere as exciting, was it?" Perry returned.

The smile tugging on Della's lips finally broke through. "No," she said. "It wasn't. And I wouldn't trade my real job for anything, even more sleep. But," she added, "not because of the excitement."

"Oh?" Perry returned. "What, then?"

Della just continued to smile. "That, Mr. Mason, is a woman's secret."

"I see," Perry said. "Well, I know better than to try to solve that mystery. A woman should keep her secrets at almost all times."

"Almost?" Della repeated.

"Unless her secrets have to do with a case," Perry said.

Della gave him a Look.

The teasing mood faded, replaced by a fond smile. "You know, there's something my job has that I can't find anywhere else," Perry said. "The best possible secretary."

At last Della smiled again, touched. "And mine has something I can't find anywhere else," she said. "The best possible boss."

xxxx

Perry was right about Paul. As the detective paced around his abode, getting ready for some badly needed sleep, he was troubled.

He ran his hands into his hair. The sight of Vivalene's surprise attack on Burger, and his subsequent plunge down the stairs, was playing over and over in his mind. Howie's and Mignon's bone-chilling screams were there too.

It puzzled him. Everything had turned out alright. Burger was alive and well. He would be back to his usual charming self before too long. And Paul would probably be back to not knowing what to think of him.

He paused on his way out of the bathroom. His rationale was not working. He knew the truth—after what they had been through, he was not likely to ever look at Hamilton in the same way as before. He had been forced to realize something he had never really been aware of before this had happened. Deep down, he had known just as much as Hamilton had that they had become friends.

Maybe what bothered him was the fact that consciously, he had not known. Maybe he wondered if he ever would have, if something drastic had not happened. After they had discovered they both remembered the truth, they had been forced to rely on each other all along the way. Whether or not Paul had believed in him, Hamilton had never let him down. Paul would have liked to think the same about himself. They had made a good team.

Only Paul did feel that he had let Burger down, more than once. He had been wary of them working together. Of course, Burger had felt the same way, but it was probably because of how Paul had often made him feel. Perhaps he had not actually felt unwelcome—Paul had tried to be friendly enough, especially when he knew how Perry felt—but Paul had likely been loud and clear about his reservations.

On the other hand, for all he knew, Burger felt the same way about this and was regretting his actions in the past that had fueled Paul's feelings. Actually, he had admitted that. He did not have anything personal against Perry or Paul. And he felt bad when he blew up at either of them or was forced to get them into situations where their careers were at stake.

And then there was what had happened tonight. If Paul could have been free to run over, to grab Vivalene from behind and pull her away, maybe that attack never would have happened. Maybe she never would have had the chance to try to kill her hated nemesis.

And if Hamilton had really been dead, would Paul have ever forgiven himself?

He sank onto the edge of his bed. These were questions he could not answer. That bothered him too.

And all of this was probably why he had hung back when everyone had been reuniting with Burger after his revival. If he had not looked back at Paul, his eyes filled with questions, Paul might not have said anything until after sorting through his mixed-up feelings. Right now, he was not sure how long that would take.

He groaned, falling back against the pillows. "What a day," he mumbled to the night. "What a mess."

xxxx

It was a couple of hours later before Lieutenant Tragg arrived back home. For a moment he stayed in the car, staring at the house.

Of course Maureen would not be waiting for him. She had not been there in the flesh for years. And her impostors were safely locked away. He would not go inside and be met by someone who was pretending to be Maureen.

The lights were on, however. Perhaps Lucy was home. If she was, she was probably worried sick.

"I could go in with you."

Tragg started, looking to Andy as he spoke. Andy understood the reason for the hesitation. Sincere concern was in his eyes.

"Thank you, Andy," Tragg said. "But no; it's alright." He moved to get out of the car. "I can face it."

The door flew open long before he reached the porch. "Uncle Arthur!" Lucy exclaimed. She ran outside, her pumps clicking on the stairs and her dark curls bouncing on her shoulders. "I've been worried sick! Suddenly I realized I was at some cabin in the mountains with a bunch of people I don't even know. When I tried to call you, I couldn't find you anywhere! The police didn't even know what was going on!" Her hands flew to her hips. "Where were you?"

Tragg smiled a bit, even as he was somewhat dizzy from the tirade. It was nice, to know that he was not returning to a house filled only with furniture and memories. He ambled over to her, placing an arm around her waist. "Well, it's a long story," he said as he led her to the house. "Let's go inside and maybe we'll talk about it."

Andy smiled too, starting the engine of the police car. Tragg would be alright.

He glanced to the passenger in the backseat. "I'll take you home now, Steve," he said. "Unless you'd like to go somewhere else."

"Home is fine," Steve hurried to say. He leaned back, shaking his head. "You know, the strangest thing about being a private eye in that mixed-up world? I was associating with Vern St. Cloud."

Andy's eyebrows rose. "That sounds like a whole new element to things being 'mixed up'," he commented.

"Oh yes," Steve nodded. "He's a bad enough P.I. when he remembers. He's actually worse without any of his memories."

Andy chuckled. "That's hard to picture."

"It's true," Steve said.

"I don't doubt it," Andy said.

xxxx

Hamilton eased himself back into the car at the hospital parking lot. Mignon walked around to the driver's side. Her posture and walk spoke of her relief. She climbed in as well and stuck the key in the ignition.

"It's good that Larry really wasn't hurt too much worse," Hamilton said.

Mignon nodded. "But they still want him for observation." She looked to him. "And perhaps you should have taken them up on that as well."

"For me they said it wasn't necessary," Hamilton said. "If I rest. And I'd rather rest at home."

Mignon sighed. "Of course you would. So would Larry, for that matter."

"Does anyone really like spending the night in a hospital?" Hamilton said.

"I doubt it."

Now that they were alone, Hamilton did not intend to allow the silence to persist. The ride to the hospital had been almost entirely devoid of conversation. Mignon had not wanted to talk in front of Larry.

Apparently Mignon no longer wanted to be taciturn, either. "One night in a hospital room would be better than being in the morgue." She held the steering wheel tighter. "Hamilton, I was standing upstairs when that . . . murderess attacked you. I saw the look on your face right before you fell."

"I'm sorry, Mignon," Hamilton said quietly. "If I could go back and do it over, I would do everything in my power to keep it from happening. What I hate the most about it is what I ended up putting you and the others through."

"You might not be able to stop it," Mignon said. "And if time-travel were possible, it would be better to erase all of the last few days from existence." She paused. "No. Perhaps they should have happened. It was a good look into each of our souls."

"Mignon . . ." Hamilton looked to her. "You can't judge yourself on this. You didn't remember. In your mind, I'd hurt you. And . . . well, I guess it seemed almost irreparable."

"That doesn't matter," Mignon said. "I should have listened to you. I thought I believed you, Hamilton. But I couldn't have, not completely."

"Mignon, you were the first one who listened at all," Hamilton said. "You don't know what a comfort and a relief that was to me."

"But I did have 'baggage attached'," Mignon returned.

". . . Oh." Hamilton winced. "You heard that."

"I'm not offended, Hamilton. It's the truth. And I'm grateful that Miss Street was there for you." Mignon kept her eyes on the road now. "I only wish that I'd been as loyal a friend as she turned out to be."

"Mignon, if Della had thought I'd hurt her, I'm sure she would have acted the same way," Hamilton protested. "For some reason, Vivalene didn't make either Della or Andy upset with me. I guess she thought it was better if they were away from everyone else and didn't remember altogether. With Della that made sense. Although why she chose Andy too is beyond me."

"Maybe it was further revenge against him, since she tried to kill him in the past," Mignon said.

"Maybe," Hamilton said. "Or maybe it was to keep him away from Tragg. But Mignon, the point is that I don't want you to agonize over this. You were being manipulated. Everyone was."

"Logically, I know that," Mignon said. "But I also know that I wounded you deeply, probably just as deeply as I thought you'd wounded me. I saw the look in your eyes each time I rejected you. And when I found you lying at the bottom of those stairs and I thought there was no hope, that look came back and haunted me.

"I saw Mr. Mason speak with you before we entered Mr. Vann's mansion. I didn't hear his words, but I didn't need to in order to know how they affected you. You were buoyed up. And that was something I hadn't been able to do for you. I wished with all of my heart that I would have told you the truth, even with the others around, instead of doing nothing and realizing that you died without knowing."

She pulled into the driveway of Hamilton's house and stopped. "At the hospital, Howie wanted to know if you and I were still friends. When I told him I didn't think we had ever stopped being friends, he pleaded with me to do something about it. 'Tell him it's okay,' he said. 'Tell him you still love him and want to be friends.'"

Hamilton chuckled softly. "Howie's pretty perceptive for his age."

They slowly got out of the car, Mignon walking with Hamilton to the porch. She looked up at him when they arrived. "In the more than twenty years we've known each other, I haven't told you enough how grateful I've been for our friendship. You were always there when I needed you most. And you were there on the average, ordinary days as well. You've been loyal, interested, and honest. I've carried that with me.

"But I can't remember if I've ever told you at all that I love you."

Hamilton's eyes flickered with surprise. "I love you too," he said. "But I've known how you feel." He hesitated before drawing her close. "Some things don't have to be said in words."

Mignon stiffened, not feeling that she deserved his words or his embrace. But she could not bear to close herself off again. Not now. She shut her eyes tight and fell into his arms, clutching at her forgiving friend.

xxxx

I haven't gone back on my feelings about not putting romance in these stories. I feel that those in a deep friendship should be able to express such sentiments without it being construed as romantic.

One more segment to go. Thank you to everyone who has shown interest, and who has stuck it out with me this long. I know this has been a pretty strange story.