"Alright, you knew that this third degree was coming," Hannibal said as he pulled out one of the chairs at the table," Sit down and explain this to me again, nice and slow."
Frankie sat down in the chair across from him and said, "I never liked Masterson, and they always knew it, but they never believed me when I said why. I first met the man when I was seven years old, my parents were having a party at the house to celebrate my father kicking off his new business, and there he was. When everybody was sitting down and yapping their heads off, he tried to get me to sit on his lap, I ran away, my mother grabbed me, and took me back, and I still ran away from him. Funny how even back then I knew, no matter how many times she took me back to and told me to stay still, I wouldn't stay anywhere near him. How I knew then, I don't know."
Hannibal's brow knitted together as he tried reading through the gaps in the lines she was leaving and he asked her, "You mean he…"
Frankie shook her head, "No, not then anyway…you see, he would come by the house and visit with my father every so often, during which time I tried disappearing up to my room and just staying out of sight, and staying quiet. Seems that I spent most of my life trying to hide from people, him especially. Mom and Dad always wanted to know why I didn't like him, you can't explain it at that age, you just know that you don't. Well, I found out why when I got older. Around the time I was 13, both my parents were working, so I was alone in the afternoon and also when they were out on the weekends, and that always coincided so nicely whenever Masterson would come to the house, his little unexpected visits." She laughed bitterly and said, "You know in school they're always telling kids about strangers, you know: don't take candy, don't take presents, don't get in their cars, don't talk to them, it's very funny because nobody ever says what to do about people you know. And they're the real problem, Mr. Smith, never strangers off the street, that's too easy, predators are close to their victims because they can establish their own credibility and ruin their prey's that way."
Hannibal felt his stomach starting to turn and an acid taste in the back of his throat as he asked, "What happened?"
"The first time he came to the house when I was alone, he managed to force his way through the door, but fate intervened and my mother came home early. You never saw anybody change so quick, suddenly he was Mr. Conscientious and concerned that I was all alone in the middle of the day, just so happened to be coming to see my father, completely forgot that he was out of town for the weekend, of course she bought it. After that I learned to leave the door locked whenever he tried dropping by, it didn't do any good to pretend I wasn't home, so I'd talk down to him from one of the upstairs windows. And ooh was he mad that I was able to figure that out. I tried telling them what was going on, but they wouldn't listen, they wouldn't believe me…nothing new there."
"How long did that keep up for?" Hannibal asked.
"Years!" Frankie told him, "He never left me alone, so I guess I was relieved when I finally met Murdoch, I figured if I had a boyfriend around, that Masterson would take a hint and leave me alone. No such luck, and unfortunately Murdoch didn't prove to be much protection, I don't think he could beat somebody up if his life depended on it."
Hannibal felt some of the jigsaw pieces falling into place, "That's why you always went back to Bakersfield with him, instead of him coming to see you."
Frankie nodded, "I figured if I got out of town that Masterson would never find out, would never follow me…apparently I was wrong."
"And you think he killed that woman?" Hannibal asked.
"Yes, think about it, Murdoch gets arrested for murder, he gets put away, because of our age differences I can't tell the police that he's innocent without incriminating him on an imaginary crime. So Mad Dog goes away for life, and where does that leave me? Back home in Cranston all alone when dear old daddy's business partner decides to come and call again. So I guess you could say I was relieved when I finally got committed, he couldn't very well explain what he'd be doing in a mental hospital to see me, now could he? Especially since I was bused to one so far away from my own hometown as you pointed out."
"Alright, so far it sounds plausible," Hannibal told her, "And I'm not saying that I don't believe you, but there is one thing that's not adding up here…why would Masterson spend so many years trying to get at you instead of just going after some other poor defenseless girl, who didn't have as many brains as you did?"
"That's the thing, Mr. Smith, I don't know that he didn't," Frankie answered, "For all I know every night after he failed to get into my home he probably went and snatched up some other teenaged girl and did with her what he wanted to do with me. But if he did, those girls either aren't going to know who he is, be able to recognize him, or have anybody in their corner who will believe them either, it's how men like Masterson work."
"I know, I know," Hannibal said, "But then why do this? Why resort to murdering some poor woman just to set your boyfriend up?"
"Why would Murdoch stab some random stranger to death in his living room?" Frankie replied, "That makes even less sense, it's not impossible that Masterson knew the woman, that he had some grudge against her as well that he thought killing her and setting Murdoch up to take the rap for it would take care of two problems at once."
"Good point," Hannibal agreed.
"Mr. Smith, I'm sure that your crazy pilot could've told you this already, but when I was doing research for my own crazy act, I found out something in all those headshrinker books."
"What's that?" he wanted to know.
"There are personal and impersonal methods of killing people," Frankie told him, "That's something that the general public isn't very aware of, they just think that the world is full of psycho killers who will stab somebody a hundred times, or blow them full of holes, but it turns out that most of those are actually committed by somebody very close to the victim, and that's why they excessively attack them. It's a very personal matter, it's not like some random mugging or assault, if that were the case, one or two jabs would suffice, but they're angry at these people and that is why they have to rip the knife out and stick it back into them over and over and over again, they're taking their frustrations on this person out on them."
Hannibal nodded, "Speaking as somebody who served in two wars and saw my own share of death and murder, I know that you're telling the truth there."
"Well that's something that we never knew, they don't tell us about that on the news or in the papers," Frankie said, "As a kid you don't really think anything about it, a killer's a killer, a psycho is a psycho, then you get older, do your research and it's a whole other ballgame."
Hannibal nodded again and said, "But how do you know that Masterson is the one responsible?"
"Because Murdoch on his own merit couldn't make an enemy in the world, he is a pushover, Mr. Smith, he doesn't have a mean bone in his body. And I know that he didn't kill that woman."
"Alright, now let's work on that theory," Hannibal said, "You said he was drugged, so the question is how was he drugged? You two were at his home, what access would Masterson have to slip him something?"
"That's one thing I've wracked my brain on for a good part of the last two years," Frankie answered, "We went out to a pizzeria for dinner that night, that's one thing we can't decide on, he likes pepperoni, I like olives and peppers, and right after we got it, I looked around, and I about hit the ceiling. I told Mad Dog, 'Masterson is here', he looks around, can't see anybody, thinks I'm just being paranoid. But it had to be him, somehow he managed to put something in his side of the pizza before it was brought to our table."
Hannibal raised a finger to get her attention and said, "That's one area I do have a little experience in, and if you know what you're doing it can be relatively easy…but why only drug him, not you?"
Frankie nodded impatiently, "I thought about that too, but after a while it made sense, that woman was not killed in M.D.'s living room, she was just dumped there, so I wouldn't have to be drugged, because there wouldn't have been any screaming. Now, I don't know how M.D. got down there to find the woman, perhaps Masterson had a part in that too, maybe he dragged him out of the bed, down the stairs, put the knife in his hands, smeared the blood on him, and then got out of there, but he had to have been in the house that night, and he had to have been the one who called the police. Maybe he figured if I was lucid, that I'd think Murdoch did it, that I'd run out of there screaming, that I'd accuse him of killing the woman…surprise was on him, I knew better than that."
"Were they able to identify the woman?" Hannibal asked.
"Yeah, her name was Alice Arden, she lived a few blocks down from Murdoch's house, he knew her in passing, not enough to really say he knew her. So he would have no motive for killing her."
"But of course no establishment can be made to connect this victim and your father's business partner," Hannibal said, "And by the time the story breaks, Masterson is conveniently back in Cranston asleep in his own bed and completely oblivious to the story until the headlines the next morning, of course."
"Of course," Frankie rubbed one eye and yawned, and said, "You know it's a very ironic thing, my whole life there's only one person who believes me, who I feel safe around, and he's taken away from me just like that. Then I'm on my own."
Hannibal looked at her and he felt his stomach turning again, but not for the same reason as before. He got up from the table and told her, "Come on."
Frankie got up and asked, "Where're we going?"
"Never mind, just come on," he said as he led her out to the hall and up the stairs.
"Wait here," he whispered as he went over to Face's room and opened the door. There were a few low mumbles and a minute later Hannibal came back dragging Face out of his own room, and he told Frankie, "Change of plans, you take that room, Face and Murdock will room for the night."
"Hannibal, what's going on?" Face asked as Hannibal dragged him across the hall to Murdock's room.
Murdock hadn't gone back to bed yet and looked up when the door opened and he asked Hannibal, "What's up, Colonel?"
"Change of plans, Murdock, Face is going to be bunking with you tonight, that alright with you?"
"Sure, that's always fine with me," Murdock said as he pulled back the covers.
"Hannibal, what is going on?" Face demanded to know, "Why was I kicked out of my own room for the night?"
"Because," Hannibal answered as he gave Face a little shove towards the bed, "I decided that those two kids have already been punished enough for something they didn't do, no sense in us adding to it anymore than is necessary."
"The two of them in there alone, you think that's a good idea?" Face asked as he reluctantly got in bed with Murdock.
"What're they going to do, lieutenant, fly out the window? That's nearly a 30 foot drop and it's straight down into the rock garden," Hannibal told him. He tucked Face in tightly to emphasize what he was too tired to say and added, "Get some sleep, we've got a lot of work to do tomorrow."
"I hate it when he says that," Face told Murdock once Hannibal left the room.
Hannibal closed the door behind him and started back for his own room, but stopped when he heard sounds coming from Face's room. He quietly padded over and pressed his ear against the door and heard soft, muffled crying coming from inside. He closed his eyes for a second, feeling sick for both of those kids, and quietly whispered, "Welcome home, you two," then turned and headed back to his own room for the night.
Murdock was among the first ones up the next morning and had taken it upon himself to cook breakfast for the others. By the time Hannibal and B.A. got down, they could already smell something burning in the waffle iron. They also saw that Frankie was already up, showered, and changed out of her hospital pajamas into a set of men's blue jeans and a blue plaid shirt over a black T-shirt.
"You're up early," Hannibal noted. He would've thought after last night that Frankie and Mad Dog would be in bed until noon.
"I'm hungry," she answered, "Besides, M.D. got up around 5 o' clock and came down here to sleep on the couch."
Hannibal doubled back to the living room entryway and saw that she was right, then he returned to the kitchen and asked her, "What's up with that?"
"Nightmares," Frankie told him, "Don't ask me why, but whenever Murdoch has nightmares he always picks the lowest point in the house to try sleeping and since you don't have a basement, that means the living room."
"I see," Hannibal said dismissively.
They heard Face's voice bellowing and echoing as it traveled down the stairs before he did. He entered the kitchen and said, "Murdock have you been in my closet again? I'm missing my…" he stopped when he saw Frankie and went over to the table and looked down at her.
"Yes?" Frankie asked as she tilted her head back to see him.
"You're wearing my shirt and my jeans," he told her.
Frankie stood up and said, "Oh yeah? Well now you know how they should look."
"Come on, Facey, have a heart," Murdock said as he grabbed a new waffle out of the iron, "You can't expect her to go running around in her nightclothes, that's indecent."
"Yeah," Frankie added haughtily with a sharp nod of her head.
Face rolled his eyes back and looked to the ceiling with a 'why me?' expression. Already he had the sinking feeling that he couldn't win for losing where these people were concerned.
"So where's Mad Dog?" he asked.
"In the living room," the others answered.
"Come on, let's go wake Sleeping Beauty up," Hannibal said.
They all went into the living room and found M.D. on the couch tossing and turning and groaning in his sleep. Before anybody could touch him, his eyes flew open and he screamed, fell on the floor and rambled incoherently as he latched onto the first thing he could get his hands on, which consequently turned out to be B.A.'s leg.
"Hey man, get this fool off of me!" B.A. was surprised by the sudden vise grip the young man had on his thigh.
Murdock and Frankie got down on the floor beside him and pried Mad Dog's arms off of B.A.'s leg and the three of them fell on the floor like a set of bowling pins.
"Strike," Face commented.
By now, M.D. was awake and just as confused as to what was going on as the others were, but for different reasons.
"What happened?" he asked.
Murdock dramatically fell back against the floor in shock by the question. Frankie cautiously grabbed his arm and explained, "You had a nightmare, Murdoch."
"Man!" B.A. exclaimed as he stepped away from them, "Sucker got a hard grip, Hannibal."
"And no easy task either, considering the redwood he was hugging," Murdock said.
B.A. growled and took a step towards him and Murdock sprang to his feet and jumped back.
"Alright, everybody get up," Hannibal said, "Murdock, get a spare change of clothes that Mad Dog can wear for the day, and then bring him back down here."
"Alright, so since everybody's now up and accounted for, Hannibal," Face said 20 minutes later when Murdock and M.D. came back down the stairs, "What's the plan for the day?"
"We're going to pay a visit out to Bakersfield and find out what the local word is about Miss Arden's murder, and then we're going to pay a visit out to Cranston and check on this Mr. Masterson."
"Who?" Face asked.
"Oh that's right, you weren't down here last night," Frankie said.
"No matter," Hannibal told them, "I'll explain it on the way."
"Hannibal, that hardly gives me any time to work on a…" Face started to say, but was abruptly cut off.
"Not you, Face, B.A. and I are going to go," Hannibal said, "If Masterson finds out somebody's onto him and tries to send some friends along to muscle their way in on us, I think it's only fair we have some muscle to lean back with, instead of a little flab."
"Not that again!" Face exploded, "I told you before, Hannibal I am not flabby!"
Hannibal chuckled at Face's outburst, but it was short lived when he was interrupted by his captain.
"Exactly what're we supposed to do in the meantime while we wait for you two to get back, Colonel?" Murdock asked.
"You and Face are going to stay here and make sure that Frankie and Mad Dog stay out of sight," Hannibal said, "Also, Murdock, since you are our psychological expert, I want you to work with them and see if you can get anymore answers out of them about what's going on, than they were willing to share with us last night. Maybe you can hit on a repressed memory and strike gold on it. I get the impression that we're going to be going up against a very smart and powerful man and if that's the case, we're going to need everything we can get to hit him with."
Murdock saluted proudly and said, "I shall do what I can do, Colonel."
"Oh great," Face said sarcastically, "You and B.A. go off on a road trip while I'm stuck here babysitting three lunatics!"
"No, no, no Facey, not lunatics," Murdock said, "Consider the word, 'luna', meaning moon, my kind doesn't originate from the moon, we're more along the line of natives from the planet Clarion."
Face turned back to the colonel and started to growl like B.A. when he was frustrated, "Hannibal!"
"Look on the bright side, Face," Hannibal said, "You won't have to try feeding them their spinach at dinner," and he chuckled at Face's obvious frustration.