La Soiree part II

Short summary:

This is a continuation of my previous fic, “(More) Trouble on Tuesday”. In it, the mystery haunting to Lawndale comes to its culmination, as the mysterious killer strikes one more time, before he is stopped for good. Part two of two.

La Soiree part 2

“So Rita. Tell us. How’ve you been?” Helen asked her sister.

Rita Podgio-Barksdale laughed. Helen really wanted to do something bad to her sister to quench the sound, but didn't do anything. Amy secretly was impressed with her oldest sister’s patience and self-control. “Quite fine dear Helen, quite fine. And may ask what little Amy is doing in these boring parts, hmm?”

It was Amy’s time to bristle. ‘Little Amy’ indeed – the three Barksdale sisters were now of relatively same height. “I just came to visit Helen and her family, that's all,” she shrugged. “Living in New York, you know, can really take a person out of touch.”

“True,” Rita nodded wisely. “Me and Paul live in Concord ourselves but haven’t yet been quite in touch with each other.” She paused. “You know Helen, I could never quite figure your decision. If I haven't forgotten, spontaneously with the job offer of the local law firm, you’ve received an offer to work in – Montpelier, right? Why’d you chose Massachusetts over Vermont, hmm?”

“’Cause I prefer chickadees over cardinals!” Helen snapped, pointing-out the birds for the two states. “Besides, after living in El Paso and Highland, Texas, me and Jake grew fond of small-scale towns, and thought that Lawndale was much more appropriate for our dispositions.”

“Aw, but Helen, the educational system is far better in bigger cities than smaller towns, you know? Your Daria is a bright child – you said so – where will she go in a year or so? To Middleton College, I presume?”

“My Daria is bright enough to apply to Boston University, if she chooses to!” Helen said sharply.

“I don’t know Helen – somehow your Daria appeared to me a bit of a passive personality, no?” Rita gave her sister a glance.

“What do you mean?” Helen asked.

“I mean, she needs a bit of prodding in social skill department, no?” Rita asked.

“I give her all the prodding I deem necessary,” Helen replied, “and Rita, keep in mind that Amy was never as social as you and yet she’s a news anchor now.”

“Only because mother prodded her,” Rita argued.

Amy felt the need to speak-up. “Rita, Helen, please leave mom out of this. I daresay we're mature enough for that.”

The older sisters exchanged looks. “Very well Amy,” Rita finally said, “but tell me and Paul, why did Jake advise not to come here? Is something wrong in Lawndale?”

Jake exchanged looks with Helen and Amy. “Why won’t you ask Eugene about that?” Helen finally said. “I daresay he knows more than we do.”

“Don't be too sure,” Paul spoke up for the first time ever since he sat behind the wheel. “When Eugene gets involved in some interested photo shoot or an object worthy enough to be photographed, the rest of the world can go and hang itself for all he’ll care.”

“Oh, he cared this time, I believe,” Helen said, a bit sharper than intended. “You see, there’s a girl involved.”

“A girl?!” Paul instantly became quite more interested and attentive. “You don’t say! Finally my brother showed some interest in the fairer sex! Will she be there?”

“I don’t know… we’ve got second-hand information, see?” Amy spoke quickly. “I'm sure Eugene will be quite happy to explain it all on his own, no?”

“I guess you’re right,” Paul nodded in thought. “Can't wait to see my brother again anyways; we haven't re-met each other in a long, long time.”

While this discussion was taking place, Eugene Podgio was preparing for his grand opening. “At last,” he excitably thought, “at last I'll show the world what I’m capable off! And if that doesn't bring Nina Joneston round to me – I don't know what will!!”

There was a knock on the door. “What now?” Eugene thought and went to open it.

Tom Sloane sat in his room, now completely dark since the sun completely sank below the horizon.

Then there was a knock on my door. “Who is it?” he asked, not moving from his position. “Elsie?”

There was a sign. “Yes, brother dear, it is I. Whom did you expect? Your girlfriend, perhaps?”

Tom paused, thinking. “What do you want? Leave me alone, I'm trying to read!” he said loudly.

“Tom, come on! It’s night outside and I'm scared. Can't I come in into your room?”

Tom scratched his head, thinking. “What says thou if I go and stay with you, instead?”

“Aw, Tom, come on – let me into your room, I’m scared!” Panicky notes clearly showed in the youngest Sloane’s voice.

“Because of what?”

“Aw, forget it!” The panicky notes turned irritated instead, followed by the sounds of leaving footsteps. Tom waited till they quieted-down for good, then relaxed and smile. No, Alecto could say whatever she wanted to, but his life – or whatever he had for it – wasn't so wretched!

“Do you really mean it?” Jane asked, staring, wide-eyed at Daria and Penny. “When you saw the skunk you climbed the cactus?”

“Yes Jane,” Daria said crossly. Though back then she was five years old and Penny eight, the two of them climbed an organ pipe cactus quicker than one could say “bobcat”. “And we just wanted to see the constellations of the night sky, that’s all.”

“She-ee-esh!” Jane shook her head. “Talk about suffering for art! At least it wasn't a prickly pear, no?”

Daria and Penny shivered, imagining that scenario. “Wonder what is keeping Jodie and her siblings?” Daria muttered softly. “Hope they’re not in trouble.”

It was then the doorbell rang.

When Quinn and her friends opened the door, the Landon kids, led by Jodie, stood there. “I need to see the Lanes and Daria quick,” Jodie exhaled.

As the other girls let the Landon kids to the living room sofa, Jodie began to tell the tale:

“It all began quite innocently,” Jodie began. “Our mom was driving us to your house, Daria, when her cell-phone rang. ‘Who is it?’ mom spoke, pressing the “speak button”.

‘It is – your niece Nina,’ came the reply.

‘Nina? What do you want?’ asked mom guardedly. After all, even if Nina killed that bulldog, she still may not have decapitated the Ruttheimers – that much is still questionable, and besides, she did like both mom and me.

‘I want to confess – I think know who is behind all of this week’s trouble,’ Nina replied, looking worried. ‘Come to my house – I'll tell you all.’

‘Certainly’ mom replied. ‘Where do you live?’

It turned out that cousin Nina didn’t live far from here – apparently, even Mrs. Petersen’s backing ran only so far. So mom decided to drive over there with us, feeling that family was much more important than some silly soiree.

When we got over to the house – it’s closer to the Merrimack than to your house, Daria – right about there, if you’re interested in knowing – it was almost completely dark, save for some light upstairs.

Naturally, mom thought that Nina was waiting for us, so she went to the doorway and gave the door a push. It opened, and mom went upstairs.

Meanwhile, me and Rachael (Evan was asleep and didn't count) were waiting for the car. We saw mom’s silhouette behind the curtains as she appeared in that lit-up room, so all was cool.

But then the lights – all of the lights – went out, and a cry so terrible that it shook that house to its’ very foundations – ran-out. Me and Rachael panicked, grabbed Evan, and fled here. That is all,” Jodie finished her tale.

“It’s true, it’s true!” Rachael added. “We do not make this up! Why would make-up something like that?”

“Quiet, all!” Penny Lane growled. “I need to think. Now.”

While all of this was going-on the adults of Griffin, Morgendorffer and other families were about to have their own problems. “I wonder where’s Michelle?” Linda Griffin quietly told her husband. “She’s so very punctual, you know.”

“And single,” Tom Griffin added quietly. “Some people have all the luck.”

“What did you say?” Linda whirled around… and saw the figure of the Harpies’ leader, Alecto, in the crowd, looking bemused. “Then again… you may be right. Tell you what – you mingle on your own… I have some people I have to talk to…”

“Fine,” Tom agreed, and the spouses went their separate ways.

Amy Barksdale was bored, quite bored – she wasn’t made for those “solemn occasion things” as her niece Daria would call them. Unlike her sisters – Helen was at home in a large community of people, Rita literally queened over others – Amy much more of a private person, quite happier at home with a good book and a warm coverlet around her shoulders...

“Oof!”

“Don't you watch where you’re going?”

“I'm sorry!” the man said. “I was just looking around – eh, you look intelligent, can you tell me what’s so special in those photos that us lesser mortals can see?”

“Either that’s a compliment or an insult, and either way it is rather twisted,” Amy said. “Who are you, anyways?”

“Hmm? I am Tom Griffin.”

“Ah! Husband of Linda’s?”

“Yes. While I prefer it being the other way around, how do you know Linda? You don’t look like a businesswoman, you know?”

“My name is Amy Barksdale,” said Amy, feeling that Tom probably knew who she was, if he was married to Linda. She was correct.

“Ah! Amy Barksdale!” Tom said in an odd tone of voice. It wasn't unfriendly or malicious, but it was unusual. “I've heard so much about you, too.”

“Yes, well, me and Linda – we seem to have made-up.”

“Well, it’s about time – it was over ten years ago,” Tom sighed. “Linda’s been known to carry a grudge – but this is ridiculous!”

“Mmm, I thought as much,” Amy nodded.

It was Rita appeared – seemingly out of thin air. Truly, the middle Barksdale daughter was a born hostess. “Amy, darling, who is your friend?”

“Rita – meet Tom Griffin. Tom – this is my other sister, Rita Barksdale-Podgio.”

“Charmed,” Tom said smoothly. “Say, I guess you’re related to Mr. Podgio?”

“Yes,” Rita giggled. “He’s my brother-in-law.”

“Oh my,” Tom said smoothly. “Some people have all the luck.”

Rita giggled again. Amy just rolled her eyes and looked for an opening to leave.

“Alecto,” Linda hissed. “What are you doing here?”

“This week has been troublesome Linda – to man and woman and child alike; human and beast and bird – all have suffered. And the week isn’t over yet: tonight the culmination is about to occur. Yesterday, Effïndïe had a dream of those walls dripping blood…”

“Excuse me, who’re you?” a couple made their way to Linda and Alecto. “I don't think we saw you before, whereas a person of such imposing stature-“

“Hmm? I'm a tourist from Boston – that's why we didn't meet, Mr.-?”

“Sloane,” the man replied. “I'm Angier Sloane and this is my wife Kay.”

“One of the founders of “Grace, Sloane and Page”, I presume?” Linda said, almost murmuring.

“Exactly,” Angier replied, cool and calm himself. “But when is the opening of this soiree – you know, no?”

“I don't think so,” Linda shrugged, noticing the look that Alecto was giving her. “But I think I would really like to know.”

“Honey,” Rita re-joined Paul as Jake and Helen introduced him to various people of Lawndale. “Perhaps it’d be wise to let your brother know it’s time?”

“Good idea,” Paul nodded. “Jake – come with me, shall we? Methinks it’s time to bring my brother from whatever cloud his girl-inspired thoughts took him upon.”

“Right,” Jake nodded. “Follow me.”

“So Jake,” asked Paul, “tell me: how’re you doing?”

Jake shrugged. “I can make a living; what I can’t make is sense of those bloody passageways. So, ah, Paul, do you and Rita plan to have any kids? Rita isn’t old enough to be grandmother yet, no?”

“I don't know,” Paul shrugged. “See, I'm a businessman and I’m not often at home, and when I am at home, I’m often too tired to be interested in anything other than sleeping. That’s not unlike you, Jake, no?”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“Well, how long was it when you had kids? Ten, nine years ago?”

“Ten and thirteen,” Jake explained. “Daria’s three years older than Quinn.”

“Ah, you see? Back then you were younger than today.”

“Everybody was one day younger yesterday than today, Paul. Speaking of age, who is older – you or your brother?”

“Quite unimportant,” Paul shook his head. “Say – I think I feel air coming from somewhere – there.”

“Then let’s go that a-way,” Jake suggested.

They went.

A short time later a large shout shook the building.

The phone rang. “Who is it?” Tom Sloane asked.

“Tom, it’s me.”

“I know that you’re not Alecto by now. What do you want?”

“Come to this address. Something bad is in there – something bad to kick our asses – yours included. Be there in twenty minutes.”

Tom put down the receiver. “I'll give it my best shot,” he growled.

“Penny, this is nuts, this is not a plan, this is not a plan!” Jane yelled. “If you don't listen to me, listen to Daria.”

“Who agrees with me,” Penny said mildly, as she, Jane and Daria Morgendorffer made their way towards the address Jodie Landon told them.

“What does she know!” Jane changed her tack. “Sure, you two once have shared a desert together for three years. So what? I had you the rest of our lives!”

“Jane, you understand how strange does this sound?” Daria said nonchalantly, walking just a bit faster than customary.

Jane gave her friend the evil eye. “Daria. We're off confronting an unknown entity, leaving behind a houseful of frightened girls of various ages, including two that may or may not stand each other, and armed with nothing else than an automatic weapon, for which Penny supposedly has a license – but a fat lot of help that might be.”

“Jane, look. This just might be a burglar… or a black-out coupled with Jodie’s and Rachael’s imaginations,” Penny pointed-out.

“Daria, tell my sister just what kind of a girl Jodie is,” Jane said acidly. “That is, when you stop hopping and skipping along the way.”

“Hopping and skipping? Moi?” Daria looked hurt (for Daria).

“Well, you do seem somewhat un-dour considering what situation we’re in,” Jane pointed-out. “You haven’t sold your soul to demons of darkness of some sort, have you?”

“Demons of darkness?” Penny raised an eyebrow.

“Some old Sinbad movie,” Daria sighed. “I remember when we watched the “Clash of the Titans” and Quinn peeked at it, and saw the big ‘Perseus vs. Medusa’ fight. She couldn’t sleep for a week. My parents withheld my allowance for a month. It all sucked.”

“But it was worth it,” Jane said with an evil smile.

“Yes, and Medusa could turn people to stone with a look. Whatever we’re going up against won't be able, and we won't be armed with swords and spears, but with an automatic weapon!” Penny said cheerfully. “I'm sure that that will make an imprint!”

“Maybe we can just pop over to Casa Lane and take mom-and-dad’s anti-burglar rifle?” Jane suggested.

“Look, this is better, and besides, Daria did contact Ms. Li and tell her what’s what,” Penny replied.

“What good can Ms. Li do?” Jane protested, then remembered how she and Daria stumbled across Ms. Li ‘visiting’ Andrew Landon in the hospital – with a fully thought-out plan that would either heal Mr. Landon completely or kill him fully. “Well, perhaps she can do something. You notified the police as well?”

“The police station was empty – save for an answering machine,” explained Daria. “Another weird thing. I wonder why.”

The police were swarming through the Lawndale Art Gallery. “This is just great,” the police Lt. Reilly told St. Moore.

“You're telling me,” the police sergeant turned to the senior officer. “First someone decapitated Ruttheimers, then this mess with the bulldogs, then the Bureau’s man tosses and terrifies during the afternoon, and now this. Who's the poor sod, anyways?”

“Eugene Podgio was my brother,” Paul was telling Lt. Leslie James. “We were never close, of course, but this, this is a horrible way to die, truly.”

“Jake, what’s going-on?” Helen grasped at Jake’s sleeve. The senior lawyers from her firm – Michael Davis and Peter Schrecter were nearby.

“I don't know honey, I’m supposed to wait for my lawyer…”

“Jake! I am your lawyer!”

“Oh yeah, right! It’s confidential information, Helen, but,” Jake’s voice fell to a whisper, “somebody nailed Paul’s brother to a wall using his own tripod!”

“What?!” Helen’s mouth fell open. “That’s crazy!”

“Whoever did this was crazy and terribly strong,” Jake replied, pale. “The tripod pierced Eugene till its’ end, or rather beginning, since its’ ends were what-“

“Jake, you’re bubbling,” Helen said firmly. “Be quiet.”

A short distance away Davis turned to Peter. “Call Riordan. Now.”

A short time later Alexander Riordan picked-up the phone on the other end. “What?” he spoke into it.

“Riordan, somebody killed Eugene Podgio – get as much information as possible on him and his latest actions.”

“Right away,” Riordan replied and tuned-out.

Meanwhile, Helen was talking to Jake. “Jake, tell me. What has happened?”

“Me and Paul wandered through the corridors, looking for Eugene, when we felt that there was an opened door somewhere – a breeze was in the corridor, you know?” Jake was speaking rapidly, gulping as much water as possible. “Well we went there to investigate and found Eugene, pierced like a bug in an entomology collection, you know what I’m speaking about? Only it was far more messy, too.”

“Jake did you see anyone, hear any suspicious noises?”

Jake shook his head. “Ah-huh, the window was open – the breeze, remember? Whoever did it, was gone through the window.”

It was then a policeman approached the couple. “Who are you, ma’am?” he asked.

“I'm Helen Morgendorffer, this man’s spouse and lawyer,” Helen replied firmly. “Whom am I speaking with?”

“Policeman James A. Moyock,” the man replied. “Are you the other man’s lawyer too?”

“No-no, Paul and his brother have their own family lawyer, he’ll be arriving here as soon as possible,” Rita appeared out of nowhere, a perfect example of a devastated woman.

“Good. Have him phone this number as soon as he arrives,” the policeman replied.

“This goes for me too?” Helen asked.

“No, you’re about to meet the D.A. in person,” the policeman replied.

Penny, Jane and Daria stood before the house of Nina Joneston. “Well, here I am with nothing but honesty – I've staked too much, I'm not going to fail!” Penny said, then cursed: “Damn Trent and his songs – they have a tendency to stick in one’s mind, you know?”

“Look: are we going in or going back to Daria-and-Quinn’s warm house?” Jane asked impatiently her older sister. “Personally, I’m all for the other option.”

“Look, just let me put the finishing touches on my plan and we’ll be on.”

“And what is your plan, Miss Penny Lane?” another voice spoke behind the three young ladies.

The trio jumped. “Ms. Li! You’ve startled us!” Jane said, as they turned around. “Whoa! What have you gotten here?”

That question was well-grounded. In Ms. Li’s arms was a well-oiled behemoth that made Penny’s weapon appear as harmless as a BB gun.

“That, my dear Miss Jane Lane, is a very expensive toy, yes,” Ms. Li replied. “Now what’s that plan your sister was talking about? I’m all ears.”

Penny sighed and began to elaborate.

“This is just great, this is just great,” Sophia Hakiojopouls mumbled, as she walked through the streets. “With all the excitement that goes-on around here, I have to play baby-sitter for Linda Griffin’s kids and their friends. The world has gone nuts, I'm no baby-sitter, and when the times come that I’m the best for such business, then it’s dark times indeed!”

She went towards the Morgendorffer house and knocked on the door.

“This is bad,” Tom Griffin was saying to Amy.

“You're telling me,” the youngest Barksdale of them all replied. “I just drove over to here to visit one of my sisters and her kids; instead bam! – I get stuck inside a mystery worthy of Agatha Christie, I wager.”

Tom shrugged. “Well, as long as we’re stuck, waiting for questioning, tell me, ah, Amy – is it worth it? Your job, that is?”

“My job?”

“Ah-ha. My Linda told me for about the last decade of our joint life or so, how much you’ve ruined her life. So is the job of a news anchor that good?”

“Mr. Griffin, you seem to be an intelligent man. Tell me – what do you think?”

Tom shrugged. “I'm thinking, Miss Barksdale, about what could’ve the poor sod done that would’ve caused the killer to strike.”

“Let’s see,” Amy scratched behind her ear absent-mindedly. “The other killings, they all connected with that Ruttheimers/Nicholson copse.”

“True. And what would a photographer do, if he knew about a copse? Especially one as passionate as Paul Podgio claimed his brother was about his photography?”

“He may’ve made some sort of a photo-shoot, that could incriminate somebody, or shed some light on the whole thing – I cannot believe that one man murdered another one and a boy for some mushroom feud. And why would Nina Joneston cave a dog’s head for Alexander Nicholson? Let’s go and give the photos another look!”

“Giving the photos another look” wasn’t too terribly hard, to tell the truth. The police just sealed-off the entrances and exits to keep the people inside; what they did on the inside was not so terribly important; certainly looking over the photos was not.

Amy Barksdale, on the other hand, thought that the photos were terribly important. She began to inspect them, not knowing that some other people were starting to take notice of her actions now.

While all of this was going-on, in another part of Lawndale, a quartet of female warriours were preparing to siege their own Bastille. “Ms. Li?” Penny Lane spoke quietly. “You do the honours.”

Ms. Li nodded and pressed the trigger on her “toy”. The door dissolved into splinters.

Then Penny Lane raced inside, fear and worry twisting her internal organs into knots.

“Did you find anything interesting, ma’am?” a polite voice spoke behind Amy.

Amy whirled around, thinking that this was yet another officer – but it wasn't. ‘I'm having some sort of “luck” with men tonight,’ Amy thought. ‘Is it because I'm rich and semi-famous?’

“Yeah,” she said calmly. “I'm trying to figure-out why was Eugene Podgio killed. I think it’s got something to do with the photographs.”

“Well, we can count-off a goodly number of photos off, then,” said the tall dark and strange. “They’re all about women – or a woman, rather. Nina Joneston, I presume?”

“Well, yeah. Lawndale is pretty much a Caucasian town – the other races have nothing more than token representatives around here. I guess we have to focus around nature shots – like this one.” Amy indicated at a photo that showed a tree – a beech, most likely. “Hmm, that’s odd. What’s this lying in the grass? Looks like a handle of a mattock – or a shovel.”

“Hmm?” The man looked at the photo one more time and frowned. Amy frowned herself. The man wasn’t Caucasian himself – or was he? Somehow, his nationality was hard to put – and Amy, working in New York State, saw people of most of the major races on a weekly basis. “I think I'm going to call Sophia now,” the man continued, reaching out. “She needs to know this.” He produced a cell-phone.

“Hey you! What are you doing?!” cried a policeman. “Put that phone down!”

“Shut up,” the man replied, producing something – a badge of a federal investigator. “I need to call my superior now.”

Penny Lane raced upstairs, looking very nervous. There was a murderer in it, and Penny… had an automatic weapon, she remembered in time. That did give her an edge over an average burglar of the local variety… if he hadn’t fled already in fear, that is. And why shouldn’t he? ‘Course, that “roar” that Jodie and Rachael were speaking about… nah, that was just exaggeration.

Penny Lane opened a door and saw two women lying on a bed, tied-up rather nicely and knowledgeably. Obviously, this wasn’t an average burglar at work.

This observation was strengthened further when a couple of powerful arms grasped Penny around the throat and began to choke.

Sophia’s cell-phone rang. “Who is it?” she asked.

“It’s me, Sophia. Hassan. Now listen good – I think I know something about the copse. And Aaron.”

“What about those two subjects?”

“Remember about that time when Aaron had to leave on a little side-trip? Something about relative problems?”

“Yes?”

“He returned some time later with callused hands and in the get-up of a paid labourer – mumbling something about manual labour?”

“What about it?”

“I think it mayhaps got something to do with The Copse, no?”

“I think I'll find-out where Aaron is and talk about it now.”

“You do that.”

Penny was running out of air, so she had to think quickly. The trouble was, she couldn't think at all. The thing was, she couldn't die – too much depended on her. ‘No!’ she silently yelled, producing a small stiletto from her sleeve. ‘I must live!’ She stabbed downward and felt something give-in. Something soft.

There was a roar and Penny was flung away, gasping but alive. There was a sound of descending running, and then…

When there was a yell and sound of descending running that was definitely not Penny’s, Ms. Li suspected the worst. She wanted to jump into the now empty doorway and blast the man into bits and pieces as soon as he came into view. She didn't for two reasons: a, interrogation that was to come up later, and b, he might’ve carried Penny’s automatic with him and shot her first. So, when he appeared in the doorway, she used her quite heavy weapon as a club, landing the man unconscious in two-three heavy blows.

Then she looked at him and smiled. “Girls? Dial this number and ask Miss Sophia to come here. This is federal business now!”

And listening to Ms. Li’s gleeful tone of voice, Daria and Jane thought not of arguing.

Needless to say, Sophia was quite surprised when the phone rang again, almost immediately after Hassan’s call. “Aaron?” she asked.

“No, Vicki, it’s me. Angela.”

“What do you want?”

“Come to this address now, Vicki. You, and I, and LPD, are going to have a long, long discussion about a certain FBI-st.”

“I see,” Sophia replied, and turning-off the phone, turned towards the girls, who were sitting quietly, looking at her. “Girls, we’re going to take a little trip. Don't worry, something tells me that it’s quite safe for you now.” As the girls hurried outside, Sophia quietly sighed. “As for myself, I don't know. Oh Aaron, what have you done?”

When the Fashion Club and the Landons arrived at the scene of the crime, they were seen with a very fascinating sight: Ms. Li, Daria and Jane standing guard over a tied-up person in a very… blasted doorway, while upstairs – in quite well-lit room, several people… were unravelling each other?

“Angela, what’s going on?” Sophia quietly said.

“Do you know who this is?” Angela replied.

“Aaron Guthan. A man in my employ.”

“This man in your employ tried to kill Miss Jane Lane’s older sister, and she had to stab him.”

“Perhaps – or perhaps she attacked him, and as he fled, you overpowered him, Angela.”

“Miss Joneston and Mrs. Landon will argue that.”

“Oh yes, the young woman who caved-in a bulldog’s skull for no reason and her aunt. Great witnesses Angela, really. This just might be another El Paso.”

“You won’t be so lucky, Tina. This time you’re going to be had!”

However, the further exchange of niceties had to be postponed till the police arrived, as well as many others, involved. “What’s going-on here?”

“I think I know what’s going-on in Lawndale this week,” Angela said calmly.

“Oh really? And who do you think you are, ma’am?” the police chief asked.

“She used to work for the Bureau till she was dismissed for dishonourable conduct of behaviour,” Sophia snarled.

“And who should speak but the woman whose aide has been killing people all week?” Angela snapped back.

“So you say!”

“Yes!”

“Ladies, please! What is going-on here!”

“I know,” Hassan said. “I have it figured-out – I think. Sir,” he turned towards a nearby policeman, “I need you to find in that copse… this beech.”

“Remind me to never get embroiled with Ms. Li again,” Jane Lane told Daria as they rode in a vehicle to the same ill-fated copse. “She’s easier to deal with as just an autocratic principal. As an ex-FBI agent – the mind rocks.”

“I was never really an agent – Sophia, or rather Vicki Vanelk messed it all up,” Angela Li snarled. “She has the gift of gab, she’s like a serpent, a viper that slithers smoothly and bites deadly.”

“And she’s Sandi’s aunt?” Daria whistled. “Poor Quinn. She’ll never be F.C. president. Boo freaking hoo.”

“I don't know – she was rather nice,” Jodie admitted. “I think… she’s not too much different from our dear principal – that’s why they’re so angry with each other.”

“Am, somebody tell me – why did police arrive spontaneously with our parents – somebody else got killed?”

“Eugene Podgio,” replied Alecto, appearing out of darkness. “He photographed something that he shouldn’t have.”

“Ah, Allaine,” Angela Li looked disapprovingly at the tall woman. “Still fooling around with music.”

“Now principal Li, be nice. I just wanted to say that you’re obviously more respect-inspiring than you were when I was their age.”

“Who are you?” Jane asked.

“Another fine graduate of Lawndale High,” Ms. Li shook her head. “I don't suppose you know what happened to Andrea Hecuba, Allaine?”

“She’s been put into a safe place – where she’ll be prevented from stirring any more trouble till this is over!”

“Hey!” Daria and Jane turned towards Ms. Li. “This ain’t fair!”

“This isn't my idea,” Angela Li shook her head. “But whoever thought of it – my thanks go to him or her. Tell that, Allaine, will you?”

“Noted,” Allaine-Alecto replied and disappeared back into the darkness.

“Helen!”

“What is it?” Helen groaned as her sister Rita approached her.

“You never told me and Paul that there was a murderer in Lawndale!”

“That’s cause there wasn't a murderer in Lawndale till last weekend,” Helen snapped, “and frankly Rita, it’s all over the newspapers, no?”

“Don't give me this lip, Helen! Is this what you consider a normal environment for your daughters to grow in?”

“And since when you’re the big expert on nurturing?!” Helen snapped back. “Take care of your daughter, Rita, while I take care of mine.”

“Like the way you took care of your oldest daughter in Texas?” Rita’s voice was a hiss.

“And what do you know about Texas?” Helen’s words dropped out of her mouth like ingots.

“Mom told me all. You almost lost your girl back there, didn’t you?”

At that Helen took her sister by the throat and hissed. “Don't mention Texas to me ever again, Rita, or by gods, you’ll wish for a rattlesnake in your boot.”

“I seem to have already have one – for a sister,” Rita snarled back.

The two sisters were ready to fight it out on each other, when a policeman stepped-in to diffuse the tension. “Ladies,” he began.

Rita and Helen stopped staring at each other and put their gazes onto the policeman, who at that moment looked about as brave as Gandalf, when he was about to confront the Balrog on the bridge of Khazad-dum. “Please separate from each other, or I'll be forced to take action.”

Rita and Helen simultaneously moved towards him, reaching-out for him, and the man realized that he might not live to see the big thing – the duo were going to rip him apart. “Please,” he continued gamely, taking a step back, “please…”

“What's going-on here?” Amy Barksdale chose that moment to arrive on the scene. “Helen, Rita – you’re at it again? What will mother say?”

The duo glared on their youngest sister who stared bravely back. Realizing that it was his cue to leave, the policeman did so.

“So what has happened?” Linda Griffin asked Nina Joneston. “That ape-man has captured you?”

“Yes he did, but because of me,” Nina shrugged, “see I've seen him do it.”

“Do what?”

“Bury the evidence that it was he, who was The Decapitator.”

There was a pause. “I see,” Linda said slowly. “Miss Joneston, kindly wait from sharing this information with anybody else till it is unburied – in a literal kind.”

“Why?”

“Because my evening had been shot to pieces,” Linda replied savagely, “and it’s time that others felt a bit of what I feel too. Call it a tiny petty personal vengeance, okay?”

At that moment Jodie Landon approached the two women. “So, ah, Nina,” she said. “Why did you do that to your aunt’s bulldog?”

“I didn't,” Nina replied. “Those tracks that have led to mine identification were a day or so old.”

“A problem that can arise in such conditions,” Amy replied, having finally subdued her sisters. “Jodie – you and the others weren't hurt?”

“Nah-uh,” Jodie shook her head. “I wonder how Ms. Li acquired that behemoth of hers?”

“Probably for purely disciplinary reasons,” Linda Griffin replied airily. “To cut down the percent of the students who have failed to graduate from her school. Did you see what she did to that door?”

“So Ms. Li – do you think we're in trouble?” Penny Lane asked the older woman, as the two of them walked under a convoy of armed policemen.

“If Tina has her way – then we’re dead, along with everybody else that can get us out of it,” Ms. Li shrugged. “Tina has this way of twisting everything around – that’s how she set me up all those years ago, in El Paso and Ciudad Juarez.”

“But what if she doesn't succeed in having her way?” Penny inquired.

“Ah! Then, Miss Lane, we may have rewards and such,” the older woman shrugged. “I do advise you against second-guessing the future – I do not know what this Hassan character has in mind, no.”

“Oh boy,” Penny groaned.

While all of this was going-on, Sophia was thinking too – thinking, what Hassan was up to? Well, in the basest sense she knew – Hassan was showing initiative at the most inappropriate time, yes! Coupled with Aaron’s independent actions the two of them will be the downfall of Sophia yet!

And the thing was that Sophia couldn't bring Hassan down – it would immediately make her the ultimate guilty party. That she didn't want, no.

“Damn,” she whispered quietly, “damn. I knew this evening was off to a bad start.”

“Mom?”

“What is it, Sandi?”

“Is this long-last-name-woman my aunt or what? You two do look a lot alike, although she does have the nose…”

“Sandi!” Linda snapped. “There you go, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong!”

Sandi retreated without a word. She knew her mother and her reactions; and of her question, not a shade of a doubt was left – that bureau’s investigator was a relative of her and of mom.

And possibly, the bearer of their supposedly existing family curse?

“Well, here we are,” one of the policemen in the lead told Hassan. “Now what about this beech? It’s not so easy, finding them with police lights and just starlight overhead.”

“Hush – someone there! Many someones,” Hassan said calmly. “See?”

Indeed, there was light in the copse, quite a few lights and sounds, that resembled some sort of a digging excavation going-on afoot.

“Freeze! This is the police!” police sergeant Moore yelled.

The next moment pandemonium erupted.

“Oh, jeez, what has happened – an ostrich used my head as a landing pad?” Jane groaned as she looked-up, and saw her sister and Daria look down upon her.

“No, we were just knocked down for the duration of a gun-fight,” Daria replied.

“A gunfight?! Oh wow! Was it long?”

“Did it feel long?” Daria replied.

“Um… no?”

“And it wasn’t long – the gunfight that is,” Daria replied, imitating Foghorn Longhorn. “Basically, when Ms. Li was asked to discharge her weapon at one cluster of lights and they just blew-up, the resistance surrendered like roaches.”

“Who are these men?”

“Servants of Alexander Nicholson.”

There was a pause. “Come again?” Jane said. “Nicholson did murder the Ruttheimers then? Not for the mushrooms, I hope?”

“No, the mushrooms came much later… when Ruttheimers couldn't disapprove Nicholson’s claim,” Penny replied. “You see, the original Ruttheimer, Charles Ruttheimer Sr., was something else again.”

“Oh? Who was he? Not a Philistine, I suppose?”

“No, he had supposedly married a richer, much older woman… who later died from some unidentifiable disease. Keep in mind that that was the very turn of the 20^th century, so anything is possible – even honesty. Anyways, Ruttheimer Sr. remarried and had Ruttheimer Jr. – Upchuck’s father. Again, nobody quite knows the details, but there was little love lost between father and son. Ruttheimer Sr. suspected that after he kicked the bucket his son would indulge his presumably existing business muscle by exploring his buying-and-selling savvy – something that ranked first only with the Ruttheimers’ legendary prowess with women it seems.”

“Ouch,” Jane winced.

“Anyways, Upchuck’s grandfather did this: since the copse was wholly his in those days of old, he made a hide-out in it, and put a lot of his wife’s jewellery and such into it. Then he covered the hide-out’s lid with turf and told no one where it was.”

“And Nicholson found it?”

“Yes, but only last month or so, ironically. The authorities aren't sure who it happened, but it is possible that Nicholson got his half-o’-copse with Ruttheimer Jr. from card-playing.”

“Ouch,” Jane winced again.

“Indeed. And while he was surveying it, he stumbled onto the trap door. He didn't know what it was… but he suspected the truth, which was blabbed-out to him by Ruttheimer Jr. a long time ago.”

“And that man with ape-like comes into this when?”

“It seems that Aaron Guthan and Alexander Nicholson are cousins, whose families parted way a long time since. Still, considering that Aaron didn't become a rabbi but a member of FBI, Alexander Nicholson decided to put the differences aside and kept in contact with his cousin. That was easier than it sounds, because Alexander Nicholson has a lot of criminal activity under his belt, including selling weaponry and illegal substances for fiscal gains.”

“Ms. Li stopped way before this line,” Daria spoke for the first time since Penny began explaining, “but don’t tell her I said that.”

“Yes well, anyways, between Aaron’s investigating skills and Alexander’s resources, the two came onto the full truth – no, asserted the full truth – in no time at all.

Well, first Nicholson tried to buy the rest of the copse from the Ruttheimer Jr., but the latter refused for some reason, and Nicholson, unwilling to let anyone stand in his path to riches, slayed both Ruttheimer and his son. Then, he thought, it’ll be only a matter of time till the hoopla dies and Nicholson will be able to buy the copse peacefully like.

Alas – he didn’t know that Ms. Li will recognize the corpses in a matter of minutes – even without the heads. Coincidentally, that is what buried under the beech on Eugene Podgio’s photo – the treasure was buried under an entirely different tree.”

“Oh boy,” Daria whistled. “I can imagine what has happened when the Ruttheimer heads were unearthed!”

“Ah-ha, and the bulldog paw-prints led right to them.”

“But who axed it?”

“One of Nicholson’s men, it is now known. You understand that that had to remain buried or else all would’ve come-out?”

“Oh yeah, that is true,” Jane agreed. “Now to more recent issues – what is the bad blood between Ms. Li and the FBI woman?”

“That, sis,” Penny said with a sign, “is unknown to me. Totally unknown.”

“Nina Joneston, I'm ashamed at your actions!” Mrs. Petersen huffed. “You being a witness of a crime and saying nothing!”

Nina shuddered and wished she could shrink under the sharp glare of her grandmother, but surprisingly her aunt came to her defence. “Mrs. Petersen,” Michelle Landon said softly, “do understand that Nina is still quite young and easily intimidated.”

“That maybe so, but she could’ve said somebody?”

“And she was about to – right before that ape-armed thug struck her down,” Michelle replied smoothly. “One cannot go alone against a FBI professional and be unafraid, especially if the one in question is an ordinary young woman.”

“I'll think about your words, Michelle,” Mrs. Petersen replied and left, leaving aunt and niece on their own.

“Aunt Michelle? Thanks for sticking-out for me,” Nina sighed.

Michelle wasn't too happy herself. “You're my brother’s daughter,” she said quietly. “Naturally I have to help you – but don't get stuck in such messes again, understood?”

“Got it!” Nina nodded.

Sophia Hakiojopoulos was very unhappy, as she cursed Hassan, Aaron, Angela Li, and the rest of names she could remember right now. She had good reasons – she was in trouble. In trouble, because one of her men double-crossed her, while the other one… refused to double-cross the others, leaving her look incompetent. And to make matters worse, Angela Li was here, smirking, feeling reasonably justified for her failure to get Sophia in El Paso.

Sophia smiled faintly. El Paso has been good, real good. Between it and Ciudad Juarez, she had been able to have a small store of gold hidden – some place safe. And now, well, it seemed that it’ll be all spent by cleaning her hands and the rest of her body parts from whatever dirty waves Aaron Guthan had started. “I hate that bastard,” she smiled.

“I bet that what Claudius said what Hamlet stabbed him,” Angela Li came up to her.

Sophia glared at her old rival. “I suppose your behemoth is properly licensed, too?” she snapped.

“Yes, it is,” Angela Li shrugged. “Enjoying the fruits of your labour?”

“Angela, mocking and riddles do not mix.”

“You do not get it? No? How’s this for an elaboration – you’ve reaped the consequences of your actions: the Higher Powers remembered what you have done to others in Texas, and did the same thing to you here, in Massachusetts.”

“All right fine – so the Higher Powers – in which you believe – did me in. Why don't they bring you forth back to your old station?”

Angela Li shrugged. “I have no idea. They have their own schedule and plans, I suppose. Still, your misery lifts my spirits entirely, you know, and if that’s my reward, then I’m not too unhappy with it.

“You wouldn’t be,” Sophia agreed, grimacing. “Still, I rather talking to you than to my sister. Now she is probably jubilant.”

“Excuse me,” Sandi Griffin appeared in the doorway. “Can I talk to you?”

“About what?” Sophia sighed.

“Well, you are my aunt Vicki, aren't you?”

“Good kid. We met only briefly, and you were about four or so years of age,” Sophia sighed. “You can call me Sophia, or Vicki, or Tina – but only in private, mind you. I still have some public image to uphold, yes.”

“I know that,” Sandi replied, almost chuckling. “Tell me, you put that article in that mercenary site?”

Her aunt scanned the print-out. “Yup. What about it?”

“Can you tell me more about that subject – I think it’s kind of interesting?”

“Well, why not dear, why not?”

Ms. Li realized her que and quietly left.

“Well people, here are the facts. What does the law say of it?” Valeriy Vitale was talking to the others.

“The state,” Alan Schrecter spoke with a bit of sadness. “Since both the Ruttheimers and Nicholson are without any heirs, their estates will be confiscated by the government of America.”

There was general grumbling and some gnashing of teeth all around – private-business lawyers do not like it when the state muscles in on what they consider their turf. Also, the jewellery alone was worth a fortune – enough to rebuild the White House, perhaps – and the combined fortunes of Ruttheimers and Nicholson were also quite substantial.

“What about the dead photographer?” Vitale asked Riordan.

“I met his lawyer – Maximilian – and he was not unreasonable,” Riordan replied. “Basically, he won’t give us any trouble.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” Davis sighed. “Where would we be without them?”

“Daria, Quinn.”

“Mom, dad! Aunt Amy! How was the evening?”

“Ever since your aunt Rita and uncle Paul made their guest appearances – it been going steadily downwards,” Helen said with a sign. “I hate that-“

“Helen! Please! Show them some true sisterly feelings!” Amy quite said, knowing that when Helen was upset, she was most liable to use words that were deemed inappropriate in a decent society.

“I’m showing sisterly feelings – towards you!” Helen sighed. “Girls, you okay? Jane – how about your sister?”

“Oh Penny’s all right,” Jane said. “A real hero! She and Ms. Li saved Jodie’s mom and cousin, you know!”

“Regular heroes, they are, yes?” Helen sighed. “The weapons have papers in order, though?”

“Yeah, they do,” Daria said with a snort.

“Mom? Is that investigator woman going to go to jail?” Quinn asked. “She isn't so bad, you know?”

“No, she won't go to jail; she’s more likely to be fired,” Helen Morgendorffer shook her head. “And considering what I have heard of her – that’s nothing less than what she deserves.”

“Pity, ‘cause she’s nice,” Quinn admitted.

“Mayhaps, but she also made Angela Li the principal of our school – and that’s not nice, is’t?” Daria snorted. “Mom, so who’s putting the finishing touches?”

“That’s not your concern kids – we’re taking you home,” Jake spoke quickly. “And no arguments!”

For once, there wasn't any.

Linda Griffin approached another person and tapped that person on the shoulder.

“Yes?” asked Alecto.

“Now that this business is more-or-less put to an end, I think you and your band can release that little Goth girl, no?”

Alecto paused. “Ah, Mrs. Griffin, you see, Calais had her way with her, yes.”

“Drat,” Linda Griffin cursed. “Very well then – find some way to keep it under wraps – perhaps a cadaur?”

“We're walking on it as it is,” Alecto smiled. “Don't worry, it won’t leave a mess.”

“What a night!” Penny told Jane. “I'll be glad to awaken this morning!”

“I was young and I was happy; I had plenty ready cash;

For my life I had my singing; I had time to party and bash!” Trent’s voice came from downstairs.

“Sleeping, you say?” Jane gave a wry grin. “Come on sis – let’s go to Summer’s room – she won't mind as she is away, and it is the furthest from Trent’s basement.”

Penny nodded in agreement.

“Well, that was a not-fun evening,” Tom Griffin told his wife and kids. “If anybody doesn't mind – I'm off to bed.”

“Good idea, dad,” Sandi suddenly spoke-up. “If anybody doesn't mind, I’m following your example.”

Before anyone could protest, Sandi went upstairs, her head full of her aunt Vicki’s stories, so full, in fact, that she needed privacy to sort them all out.

The Landons and Morgendorffers too were settling in – their evening too exciting by far to be awake anymore. To tell the truth – they all slept like logs. Others were not so lucky. Vicki Vanelk (or Sophia Hakiojopoulos or Tina Eckett) tossed and turned all night long, dreading now her future. Angela Li too didn't have too much sleep, for similar, yet horizontally opposite, reasons. And, of course, none of the Lanes could sleep, not while Trent and his band were playing.

And yet, in the end, night gave-in to morning, and a new day dawned over Lawndale – but the small town will never be the same.