Chapter 3

"Hi Honey; I'm homeeee!"

"Ew, please, Dad. Don't ever say that to me again," replied the redhead with a scrunched up face in disgust. Sitting behind the kitchen counter, sat Alexis Rodgers, astutely doing her homework as she waited for her father to come home before starting their dinner preparations.

"Sorry, pumpkin. How was school today? Did you start your week off well?" Rodgers laughingly responded as his daughter got up to make room for him to deposit his shoulder bag on the counter.

"It was okay. But hey Dad, did you know one of my friends started reading your novels? It's so weird to hear them gush about you as if you're some celebrity … like Jason Bateman!"

"Ahahah, I'm sorry to hear that?" Rodgers couldn't help but be surprised by his daughter sometimes. She continued to explain to him how her friends believe him to be a secret agent writing these novels discreetly because the murders he shares are classified knowledge, but he's only nodding along. He used to wonder about how his novel's popularity would affect his daughter, but he's discovered that she is a resilient child and she doesn't mind that he seems to have this secret life. If anything, she embraces it and keeps him in check when it looks like he might be taking it too far in his head. For a girl of only 14, she is incredibly wise and mature.

"… just you wait till Grams hears about this. I don't know how she puts up with you when her friends speculate about you."

And speak of the devil… Not a second after Alexis mentioned that did Martha Rodgers step into the kitchen from her bedroom upstairs.

"Why, good evening Mother. Nice of you to join us," Rodgers smartly greeted. He doesn't mean to sound so flippant with his mother, but he enjoys teasing her. And after what happened to her this past year with the last guy she was dating leaving with all her money, he can't help but try to instill some more light and silliness into her day.

"Oh the prodigal son has returned. What's for dinner kiddo?" Martha joked back.

"Pasta?" Alexis suggested, but not without looking back to her father first, to see if he was okay with her interjection.

"Sounds lovely. You wanna go put your books and stuff in your room while I start the preparations?"

"Thanks Dad! I'll be back down in a sec to help you with dinner."

As Alexis scampered off, Rodgers began to take various items out of his fridge to begin their simple little family meal. Rolling up his sleeves, he started washing the tomatoes and boiling the water for the pasta noodles while his mother sat there, idly nursing the glass of wine she somehow procured without his noticing. It was a very companionable silence—moments like these are when he's glad, as far as the world is concerned, he is only a professor with nothing more to worry about than grading papers. He shudders to think how his life could be dramatically different if he were in the limelight as a celebrity author.

Soon Alexis returned downstairs and with her help, the meal was accomplished in half the time. As they settled down on the dining table near the kitchen, silly banter passed on between all three family members and it was very relaxing, until the muffled ring of a cell phone halted their conversations.

"Sorry about that," Rodgers apologized, "It must be my publisher. I just turned in my final manuscript draft today though, so I can't imagine what she'd want."

He promptly got up and strode to the shoulder bag he left still on his kitchen counter. Out of respect to their family time, he reached in his bag and ended the call without picking it up. Not a moment too soon after that however, the phone started ringing again.

"It's okay, Dad, we get it. You can pick it up. I'm sure Gina can't wait to yell your ear off for whatever new ridiculous plot you came up with," Alexis understandingly encouraged.

"Hey, I resent that, oh daughter of mine," he teased back before he excused himself to his study, taking his phone and shoulder bag with him. He just barely closed the door and raised the phone to his ear before Gina was already speaking quite loudly on the other end.

"Alexander Rodgers, what did you do?!" Gina Cowell half screamed into the phone.

It took Rodgers a moment to collect himself before he could pinpoint maybe what exactly it was he did wrong this time—Derrick Storm. That's right; he just killed off his best-selling protagonist.

"I'm sorry, I got bored?" He attempted to explain, as he settled into the couch by his desk—might as well get comfortable; he could tell this was going to be a long and tiring conversation.

"Bored?! You call killing someone, BOREDOM?!"

"Why are you getting all shrill? I was getting tired of Storm; there wasn't anything I had left to say about his character."

"So you're justifying murder with writer's block?"

"Well yeah?" Rodgers replied back uncertainly. He doesn't understand why his publisher is taking this so seriously. "I don't understand; why are you so concerned about this? So I killed off Derrick Storm. What's the big deal? Storm isn't the golden goose. I am. I didn't even think you'd get to reading it that fast."

"Derrick Storm?! You think I care about Derrick Storm? Alex, I just had the police calling me asking about Richard Castle because he's a person of interest in a recent murder case."

Rodgers let the phone fall to his lap as those words continued to ring around inside his head. He's a person of interest in a recent murder case?