Chapter 3

Harbor View Towers, Penthouse 2

Sighing, Spinelli sat back on the couch, his feet propped on the coffee table as he perused the morning's issue of the Port Charles Herald, sad to see that in the last twenty-four hours little had changed in the town.

Mayor Floyd's numbers were continuing to drop steadily, despite his statement that he would, "Up the face and clean the streets of Port Charles." Clearly, no one believed him.

Alexis Davis had captured another criminal and put him behind bars, and the journalist couldn't refrain from saying that she'd yet to catch any of the real ones.

The gossip column was still raving about the possible outcomes for Kate Howard's fall nuptials to the former kingpin, Sonny Corinthos, and even Spinelli found himself wondering how that one would turn out. He marked the headline with a pink highlighter as he did all articles that he wished to pass on to Maxie and flipped to the back of the paper to skim over the short listing of crimes.

It became evident almost immediately that he wasn't going to find a thing, so he folded the paper up neatly so that the page with the article about Kate rested face up and laid it on the coffee table.

He reached for the pile of papers sitting next to his laptop and settled back against the couch. Just days ago, he'd found an article online that suggested advertising your private investigator abilities by way of brochures and business cards. He imagined having something sleek and sophisticated that represented all things the Jackal wasn't, but would be once he figured the whole P.I. thing out completely.

Tucking the soda at his side, he thumbed through the various printouts he'd managed to create on his own, knowing that Maxie was more highly suited for such a job, but she'd been working overtime, and he was just eager to get it done. He attempted to fold one sheet over, but the pages came out uneven, and he grew flustered and tossed the stack back onto the table.

Spinelli was seriously bored.

Jason hadn't come home last night or even called, and he'd stayed up while Maxie worked overtime again, and spent the entire evening playing video games. If he had any heart or a lesser fear of the dark, he would have been out on the streets, itching to find a mystery of his own.

"Spinelli!"

"Maximista!" he cried, getting up from the couch to answer the door in such a hurry that he knocked the soda over and the liquid seeped into the cushion.

"Spinelli, can you open the door? I am wearing the most uncomfortable pair of stilettos, and if I don't get them off my feet soon, I will die," she hissed, her fist continuing to pound on the door.

"One second, the Jackal has the direst of emergencies," he replied, looking around for something to clean up the stain with.

"Spinelli!"

"Coming," he said, throwing a pillow over the cushion and hurrying over to the door.

"Geez, took you long enough," she replied, grinning as she breezed into the penthouse, dropping her purse on the desk and kicking her shoes off next to it. "It is not fair that cute shoes are so painful to wear."

"You are so devoted despite the woes of fashion," he admired, smiling softly as he took in the sight of her bare feet and perfectly painted toenails as they moved across the floor.

"Having terrible feet by the time I'm fifty is just a price I have to pay," she shrugged, throwing herself down in the chair. "At least I'll be hot and sassy while I've got it to flaunt." She turned so that her legs were dangling over the chair arm, peering over the back of it at Spinelli. "So, what have you been up to today?"

"Oh, well the Jackal was just…" He scratched his head as he walked back over to the couch, careful to avoid the cushion when he sat down. "You know…Very Jackal-like things."

"Which tells me nothing," she groaned, stretching her arms over her head. "Come on, Spinelli. I have been stuck in an office with Kate for nearly forty-eight hours, watching her try on dress after dress for the Nurse's Ball. Give me something real."

"The true fashionista made the gossip column this morning," he shrugged, pushing the paper towards her.

"I don't even want to look at it," she said, sitting up and shoving it onto the floor so that it was out of sight. "You have no idea what a fiasco it was. Kate chose to be with Sonny, and she chose every damn paparazzi freak that wants the dirt behind their relationship. If Kate is going to take Jax to every damn event in Manhattan, people are going to say she's having an affair."

"The worst is that she comes into work and takes it all out on me. Lulu is stuck getting some easy job like loading the fax machine with paper, and I get reamed because Perez Hilton drew a circle around her belly and said she was sperminated, and she would need a paternity test asap."

"Is this one of those fashion designers you two so adequately adore?"

She cracked a smile, letting out a soft giggle. "I just love you, Spinelli. You're so cute and clueless. Coming over here is such a breath of fresh air after being stuck in the office." She leaned forward, nosily brushing around his papers. "What's all this?"

"In your absence, the Jackal started a project that no doubt needs the tender, loving touch of the great Maximista."

"Did you make this?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Yes, but the Jackal is well aware-"

"Oh, Spinelli, you never want to make it look like you're trying too hard to sell yourself," she muttered, flipping through them. "And you don't want to sound too intelligent because that could turn people off. You need something bright and happy that catches people's eye, but…" She held up one with the words, 'Thefts, Robberies, Murders – The Jackal P.I. is your guy!', scrawled across the top. "No."

"But those are the kinds of mysteries that the Jackal P.I. wishes to solve."

She slid onto the floor, resting on her knees as she leaned over and squeezed his hand, and he did his best to avoid breaking out in a sweat. "I know that you want to be this great investigator and fight crime and change lives, but you really need to think about this."

Frowning, he suddenly worried that she was going to tell him his lifelong dream was about to crash and burn.

"One, you work for Jason Morgan, so you need to be really careful about what kind of crimes you choose to solve. In fact, you should probably run your cases by him, even if it goes against the P.I. oath or whatever."

"How do you know about the oath?" he asked curiously, arching an eyebrow at her.

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "I have to read this crap you have lying around too, just in case you ever need me to bail you out."

"The Jackal is touched that the Fair Maximista cares so deeply."

"Someone has to," she said, tossing his papers onto the coffee table. "And secondly, you really need to start small. You don't want to take on something that's too big."

"Well, the Jackal put together the mystery revolving around the identity of the Text Message Killer, and he also aided Stone Cold in the discovery of the shooter behind poor Michael's-"

"But you had help with those, Spinelli," she said, smiling softly, and he knew she wasn't meaning anything by it. "Start small….Like finding missing necklaces for some rich old woman…Or helping save cats out of trees…Or figuring out why a species is dying."

"While the Jackal would like nothing more than to prevent small woodland creatures from suffering a dire fate, it isn't exactly something that would boost his P.I. resume."

"I know, Spinelli, but start small and when a real mystery comes along we'll jump on it," she said, as the penthouse door opened.

Spinelli grimaced, leaning back against the couch and pressing the cushion against the stain, and Maxie gave him a curious look as she lifted herself back into the chair. "How are you on this fine day, Stone Cold?"

"Good," he said, narrowing his eyes at the pile of papers on the coffee table. "Clean that mess up."

"The Jackal had all intentions-"

"Aren't you even going to ask Spinelli how his day was?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "Of course, because as long as Jason Morgan's doing fine-"

"How are you doing, Maxie?" Jason interrupted pointedly, leaning around the chair to look at her.

"Better before you asked," she replied, making a face, "because now I'm just creeped out."

Jason shifted his eyes to Spinelli, who shrugged, chalking it up to a very Maxie reply. "Pleased to hear that you are well, Stone Cold, and perhaps, you wouldn't mind if the Jackal invested in a steam cleaner?" he asked, patting the cushion gently.

"Why do we need a steam-" He stopped when his phone rang, slipping it from his pocket. "Hey, one second." He lowered it to his side, and Maxie craned her neck to get a look at the caller I.D., stopping only after he glared at her. "Buy whatever you want. I'll be upstairs."

Spinelli nodded, satisfied that if he moved quickly he could remove the stain and all would be well. "That went fairly well."

Maxie smirked, sitting on the edge of her chair. "What would you do without me, Spinelli?" she asked, shaking her head. "You have a mystery right under your nose, and you're blatantly ignoring it."

"If you are talking about the couch stain, I know how it got there-"

"Honestly, I don't want to hear the words you, stain, and furniture mentioned in the same sentence ever again," she interrupted, holding up her hand. "Now back to the mystery. Look at him. He's being nice and Jason is never nice – maybe to you, but not to me."

"Well, Stone Cold has been under a lot of pressure these days. What with the hostility between the former brothers of organized crime, the threats of the Zacharra family-"

"And banging the daughter of the family jewels doesn't help," she cut in, in a scolding tone. "Too bad Jason doesn't have anyone around to guide him."

Spinelli nodded, frowning as he thought about everything that Jason had given up and lost over the past few months. He never quite recovered from Michael's shooting and having Elizabeth and the boys in his life would have helped, but he undoubtedly pushed them away for good.

"Perhaps, Stone Cold is moving on from the dark side, the sadness that has haunted him is fading and the mourning is over."

"Does that mean he'll take off that black t-shirt? He's been wearing it for way too long," she said seriously, shrugging when Spinelli just looked at her. "Seriously, does he just buy out the stock at Wyndams each time they come in?"

"I'll simply ask Stone Cold," he replied slowly, nodding as if to talk himself into it.

"Why he's happy? You're just going to ask him?"

"Are you suggesting that the Jackal tails him?"

"No way," she said, holding her hands up and waving them back and forth. "He kills people for a living, so you'd probably come across a scene and make yourself an accomplice and seeing as I'm going to have to help you with this, we are so not doing that."

"Then, the Jackal will ask Stone Cold, who will entrust him with a true answer."

"He never talks."

"Sometimes to me."

"Ever."

Spinelli cleared his throat and sat up, smoothing his hand over his wrinkled shirt. "I'm the Jackal P.I.," he said smugly. "Stone Cold won't have a choice."

Kelly's Diner

Taking a deep breath, Spinelli repositioned his items on the table, careful to make the set-up look as normal as possible. He adjusted his orange soda, keeping the beverage strategically placed to where he could sip it a moment's notice – say if he got nervous and stumbled over his words, which was very likely. Opening his laptop, he pulled up the latest security information for the Morgan Organization, giving him a safe topic of conversation to revert to if all else failed, as well as a reason for the meeting.

Technically, if Spinelli wanted to, he could hack into Jason's cell phone records and know who his friend was talking to in a matter of seconds, but he couldn't bring himself to do such a thing. Jason trusted him with his life and his secrets, and he would never do anything to break that. Besides going about it the old-fashioned way was rather fun and perhaps the Fair Maximista was onto something when she said Jason was his first mystery waiting to be solved.

Checking his watch – a must have for any P.I. in the making, certified, or otherwise – he saw that he had ten minutes before Jason would promptly arrive, never having been late for a business meeting – Well, except for a couple of weeks ago, and he'd shown his face for a few minutes before his phone rang, and he called it quits.

Oh, maybe the Fair Maximista was onto something.

"Hmm," he murmured, rubbing his hands together as he dug through his laptop bag and pulled out Private Investigating For Dummies. He cradled the book in his lap, making sure no one else in the diner could see the cover as he skimmed over the checklist at the back of the section about conducting an interrogation.

What To Do During An Interrogation

Eye contact is one of the most important aspects to an interrogation. – Always look your suspect in the eye. (No one usually looked Jason Morgan in the eye, unless he was holding a gun and they were begging for their life.)

Moving on…

Verbal and non-verbal indicators are important in convincing your suspect that you are actually listening. – Nod, smile, use positive words. (Jason didn't care much for positivity, but if he started the conversation with good news about the business and veered off, perhaps it would work. Otherwise, he'd be staring down the barrel of a gun, perfectly capable of conducting number one.)

Next…

Tape recorders are a prime way of proving whether or not your suspect is guilty, but there are several rules that must be remembered. When recording in secret, always place your tape in a well-hidden location that will not prevent any sound from being recorded or pick up too much background noise. Make sure your questions are as well heard on the tape as your suspect's answers… (Hmm. Well, he most definitely wouldn't be recording Jason either, so…)

Realizing that he could do none of the items on the list of what you must do, he decided to turn the page and skim over what you weren't supposed to do, telling himself that if he managed to at least avoid those things, he would be safe.

What Not To Do During An Interrogation

Never talk to anyone else while conversing with your suspect. (This would be easy seeing as only the Fair Maximista would have the nerve to approach Spinelli and Jason while they were dining.)

One down…

Don't tap your pen, pencil, or make any sound that would distract your suspect. (Hmm. Well, that was never going to happen, but Jason would never see such as a distraction. In fact, if Spinelli were quiet, his dear friend and boss would surely know something was going on.)

Two for two…

State your questions clearly so that the suspect in question understands. – In a case where they don't, simply reword, but don't stumble over your words and trip yourself up. (Yet again, another area where Spinelli was safe because if he spoke normally to Jason, the mobster would surely know the hacker was pulling something on the sly.) Be prepared with questions. (Hmmm.)

Almost three for the win…

Checking his watch yet again, frowning at the weight of it on his wrist, he hurried to open a document on his desktop and write out a few questions.

So Stone Cold, you've been rather exuberant lately, any reason? (No.)

Stone Cold, we haven't had a chance to talk in a few days, you know with the Fair Maximista always at our place, and you running off to take phone calls. Are these business related? You know I worry about security. (Too forceful?)

Stone Cold, you're happy, and this is just…Well, why? (Uh-uh.)

Stone Cold, how are-

"Hey, what's going on?" Jason muttered, smacking Spinelli on the shoulder and causing him to jump, his hand hitting the glass of orange soda, which had not been as strategically placed as he imagined.

Thankfully, Jason's cat-like reflexes managed to grab the glass before it fell off the edge of the table. "You okay?"

No, no, no.

Jason couldn't ask the questions.

He was reversing roles. Oh, God.

Did he know?

"Funny you should ask," he murmured, glancing down at his computer screen, skimming over the poorly written questions. "How are you, Stone Cold?"

He arched an eyebrow, leather rubbing together in a very intimidating way as he tightened his shoulders. "I'm fine," he said agitatedly. "Is this why you asked me here?"

Spinelli shrugged, knowing he was failing fast. "Between our women, we haven't been able to have any guy's time." He placed his hand on his chest, giving him a smug look. "You know, me with my laptop, you with your newspaper or remote….An orange soda and a beer…" He swallowed hard as he rambled, waiting anxiously for Jason to chime in.

"Our women?" he asked, looking around the diner as if he was worried that someone would overhear their conversation.

He was asking questions again.

Damn him.

No wonder the PCPD never implicated the man.

"Well, uh, Vixenella," he said, resting his elbow on the table and pointing at him with a slender finger. "The fundraiser – you two – grief sex – I understand, you've been through a lot. Losing Michael and the Maternal One, along with your box of secret pain and-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" he hissed, letting out a heavy sigh as his cell phone rang. He jerked it from his pocket, his eyes softening at the caller ID, but he quickly ignored the call.

"One," he said, ticking items off on his fingers, "you shouldn't be discussing any of this in public. Two, I don't even want to know how you know about the shoebox in the closet downstairs, but if I ever find you looking in it, I will break your hands. And three, never mention her unless we're at the penthouse. Does Maxie know about any of this?"

He shook his head, grimacing as Jason's glare hardened. "Stone Cold, she was just worried about you."

"Maxie was worried about me?" he asked, causing Spinelli to slump limply over the computer.

He tried to tell himself that Jason Morgan was not the typical suspect and had lots of experience with interrogations, and that he wasn't the worst P.I. alive and all his hopes and dreams weren't crashing.

Oh, no.

He was going to end up saving woodland creatures for the rest of his life.

"Well, yes," he said slowly, reaching for his soda and taking a long swig. "You're quiet one second, then questioning the Fair Maximista about how she feels, and it's just all very strange, Stone Cold."

"You like her, right?" he asked, and Spinelli barely bit his tongue about correcting Jason and his need to ask all the questions.

"Well, yes, the Jackal feels much admiration for the Fair Maximista, but why are you so concerned? Especially when the Jackal isn't allowed to be concerned where the Maternal One and your Secret Pain are-"

"I try to be nice to Maxie because you like her," Jason interrupted, shaking his head at the hacker's other comments. "I just told you not to speak about this-"

"Well, perhaps the Jackal should have set up such a meeting in the penthouse, but he didn't think Stone Cold would be on the defense."

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked seriously, looking him over. "Did you drink too many sodas or get a hold of some cold medicine again?"

"No, I am merely concerned for your well being," he replied, smacking a hand against his chest. "The grasshopper must always look out for his sensei, and I know that you've had a hard time this year, and suddenly you're not having so much of a hard time-"

"You don't need to worry about me," he cut in, glancing down at his phone as it rang again. Having studied Jason's mannerisms and reflexes enough, Spinelli could see that his boss was having a hard time not taking the call. "I can't change what happened to Michael, and I can't let it define everything. I'm just trying to live my life the best way I can."

He nodded dutifully, knowing that after this conversation he would be expected to drop the subjects mentioned altogether. "The Jackal is relieved that Stone Cold has found a way to live with never knowing his secret pain or sharing a life with his beloved, and I only hope that someday things can be different."

Jason swallowed hard, staring over Spinelli's shoulder as he nodded. "Me too."

His eyes brightened briefly as the bell above the diner door rang, and when Spinelli noticed his excitement, he shifted uncomfortably. Turning in his chair, he glanced over his shoulder, immediately understanding Jason's excitement. Elizabeth had stepped into the diner, looking as beautiful as every in a pair of light blue scrubs, her hair hanging down her back in thick curls. Her eyes widened as they met Spinelli's, and she hurried past them to the counter, barely giving Jason a second look.

Barely.

Those two weren't capable of not looking at one another when they were five-hundred feet or closer.

"She looks lovely," Spinelli muttered, wanting to retract the statement when Jason's eyes narrowed in his direction. "Perhaps she's trying to impress the Prudent Practitioner, seeing as he's so wonderful with hearts and all."

"I don't know what you're trying to imply," he said, closing the laptop as he got up from the table.

"Well, sorry to be the bearer of bad news Stone Cold," he said, lowering his voice as Elizabeth looked in their direction. "Just last week at the gala, the Fair Maximista and I came across the Maternal One in a compromising situation with the Prudent Practitioner – in the very same manner that we came across you and Vixenella, and well, we assumed-"

"She's not sleeping with Leo," he interrupted, tossing a glare in her direction, before starting to the door.

Spinelli shook his head, not surprised that Jason was so jealous over Elizabeth when he'd been pining for her this long. He had to understand that she wasn't going to go on and not find someone else, and of course, Jason would do the same, but getting involved with the mob daughter of the enemy was not smart by any means.

"Also," Jason snarled, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him back, "I am not sleeping with Claudia Zacharra."

He released Spinelli, patted him on the shoulder, and gave Elizabeth another look before disappearing out the door.

Sighing, he reached for his soda and drank it down until there was nothing but that awful straw sucking noise that the Fair Maximista was always scolding him about. He pushed his chair back and got up from the table as he tossed his bag over his shoulder, sliding his computer under one arm. He started for the door, but stopped when he noticed an offending stain from the corner of his eyes on the back of Elizabeth's scrubs. And he felt obligated to point such a thing out to her; after all Jason would want him watching out for his former lady companion.

"Good day, Maternal One," he murmured, approaching the counter and grinning widely.

"Spinelli," she said, counting out change as she glanced at her tab.

"Uh, the Jackal doesn't wish to embarrass the Maternal One, but there is a stain of some kind on the back of your jeans, and…"

"Oh, God," she cried, sliding her hand over the back of a thigh. "I meant to go home and change, but of course, I forgot." Her face flushed as she craned her neck to look at the back of her pants. "How bad is it?"

"It's dark, quite orange," he shrugged, pushing himself away from the counter. "Do the innocent ones crave orange soda like I? The caffeine can wreck havoc on their tiny bodies."

"Yeah," she nodded, pushing her money across the counter as she grabbed her paper bag. "Something like that. Boys and their needs, you know…" She adjusted her purse over her shoulder and backed away, giving him an uncomfortable smile. "Thank you, uh, I'll have to make sure…Cam…Cameron is…more careful with…his juice."

"Anytime," he replied, waving goodbye as she rushed out of the diner, one hand pressed against the back of her thigh.

How in the world the tiny tot had gotten juice in such a place, he didn't want to know. Children were rumored to be messy little creatures, not like he knew or anything. The closest he ever came was to the Innocent One, who he most definitely wouldn't be getting close to anytime soon. Neither would Jason, which saddened him greatly, because he would have been an amazing father.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, the familiar ring tone that said something about lovely lady lumps filling the diner. Maxie had insisted on him using such a song, and Jason had questioned him about downloading the song when the company phone bill came last month.

"Jackal," he answered glumly, knowing

"Uh, oh. You don't sound pleased. I take it things didn't go well with Jason."

"Interrogation Round One: Massive Failure."