Joe stepped through the patio doors and wandered across the lawn to where Kiwi was standing, slowly gnawing on a slice of burnt toast. He was gazing up at the treetops with the morning sun on his face.

"How you doing?" he asked the New Zealander, testily.

Kiwi stopped chewing and looked down at his American friend. He swallowed, one side of his face lifting. "Hey, Joe Mate - welcome home voice!" he teased.

"Tell me about it - only barely back though," he croaked, stroking his throat tenderly. "I’ll have to be careful I don’t strain it again. Have you seen Frank?"

Kiwi pointed solemnly and Joe turned to see Frank sitting cross-legged next to the pond, miserably swishing the water about with his finger.

Joe grimaced, "uh oh, he doesn’t look happy does he?"

"Nope."

Leaving Kiwi, he sauntered across, slumped down next to his brother and slapped him on the back. "Hey buddy." he said.

Frank did a double take. "You got your voice back!"

"Just barely - you okay?"

Frank shrugged his shoulders and looked back at the pond. Snapping a leaf off a nearby plant he gently fished a struggling bumblebee out of the water. He selected a flat rock and placed the insect carefully on top to dry off.

Kiwi walked across and hovered, listening.

Joe waited for a few seconds before saying, "I’m sure Helen didn’t mean to upset you, she was just letting off steam and you got caught in the cross fire."

Frank looked back at his brother, surprised at his perceptiveness. "No, it’s more than that, she’s been avoiding me all morning."

"She’s probably embarrassed."

"I don’t think so…"

"Have you tried talking to her?"

"Yeah, but every time I approach her she walks the other way. I’ve really let her down." Frank picked up a stone and tossed it into the water, watching the resulting circle rippling outwards.

"How do you work that out?"

"I didn’t catch everyone that was involved in Alex’s death and now I can’t."

"You weren’t the only person on the case you know," Joe reminded him, growing more concerned, "I was too."

"You were laid up ill most of the time remember - this is really down to me." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I want to go home," he suddenly muttered, his hand flopping into his lap again.

Joe thought he’d misheard, "did you say you want to go home?" he asked, leaning closer.

"Yeah."

"That doesn’t sound like the determined brother I know, love and envy!" he said, trying to lighten the mood. Silence ensued and Joe desperately wracked his brain to try and think of something worthwhile to say, something that would make everything all right again - it was very unlike his brother to be this down hearted.

Frank suddenly jumped to his feet and wiped the grass cuttings from his pants. "I’m going to collect all the evidence and equipment together for the police," he announced and headed for the house.

Kiwi watched his friend until he was out of earshot and Joe came and stood at his shoulder.

"I’m going to have a word with Mark," the New Zealander announced, batting at Frank’s now sun-dried bumblebee as it buzzed passed his ear. "In the meantime, you go and give your brother a hand and keep him busy."

***

Kiwi entered the house through the patio doors while Joe gained entry via the kitchen.

He found Frank with the box of evidence on the top of the table. He was starting to take everything out one at a time to log them in a book, along with a note of where they came from, dates and times.

"When are they coming to pick this up?" Joe asked, his eyes momentarily focusing on Kiwi and Mark as they passed the doorway on their way to the stairs.

"At some point this afternoon," Frank answered and pulled out the scarf that had previously been utilized as a blindfold. He placed it down onto the table and started writing again.

"You got any theories about Mike’s mystery assailants?"

"I haven’t really thought about it."

"It’s not like you to give up that easily - usually that keen brain of yours is working ten to the dozen!" Joe laughed and pushed his index finger into his older brother’s temple.

"Not today…" Frank’s voiced trailed off and he slowly placed the book and pen down on the table. "To tell you the truth, I’m kinda glad it’s over," he announced and chewed his lower lip.

"Huh…why?"

"Having to pretend to be a dead guy was really starting to put a strain on me."

Joe opened his mouth to reply, but at that second Helen suddenly materialized in the doorway. She lit upon Frank and immediately half turned to leave, however, she was halted when something caught her eye. Staring back at her, Frank visibly tensed and took a faltering step backwards.

Helen strode into the room and headed straight for the table. "What’s this?" she asked, holding up the sash.

"It’s the scarf that was used to blindfold Joe," Frank replied quietly.

She nodded and began examining it closely. Turning it over, she searched for the label and read the name of the make.

"Why the interest?" asked Joe, noticing her eyes narrowing.

Helen paused and laughed, the smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Oh, nothing. It’s just made of really nice material. Just wondered if the manufacturer might be able to point me in the right direction so I can buy a few metres. I want to make a new silk dress for re-enactment."

Kiwi had, unbeknownst to Helen, entered the room and was now standing at her shoulder, regarding her in surprise. "Surely you couldn’t use that color for medieval re-enactment - it’s a bit bright!" He exclaimed.

She looked down at it again and re-appraised the shade. "Yes, you’re probably right. Oh well, another one bites the dust!" she said, trying to sound lighthearted. She pulled her arms tightly around herself and turned on her heels. As she walked away, her face was heavily frowned in thought. She left the room and turned towards the phone.

"Can I have a word guys?" Kiwi asked the Hardy brothers seriously.

"Sure," they both chorused at once.

***

The three teenagers were all sitting in a circle out in the garden, canned soft drinks beside them on the grass.

Kiwi had just finished outlining the conversation he’d had with Mark as to why Helen was acting so strangely towards her American friend.

Frank stood up, took a few steps away from them and turned his back. Surreptitiously, he wiped his eye with the back of his shirt cuff.

The other two shared worried glances.

Standing up, Joe offered his hand to Kiwi, "Come and help me, I need someone to use the phone - my voice is still not up to much," he croaked.

"What are we doing?" asked the New Zealander, accepting Joe’s hand and allowing himself to be dragged to his feet.

"I’m booking me and Frank our tickets home. This situation is not fair on either my brother or Helen, I think it best we cut our vacation short."

***

Helen heard Kiwi and Joe’s voices as they heading through the house and cut her telephone call short. She scooted away from the table and darted into the study, pulling the door-too after herself.

Going to the two-draw filing cabinet she opening the top tier and started sifting systematically through the legal papers within - some she took out and placed on one side, other’s she ignored. Finally, she stuffed all the loose sheets into a folder and, clutching the documents to her chest, nonchalantly left the room and went up to her bedroom.

***

Frank was standing with his mouth flapping. Joe grinned back.

"I can’t believe you went and transferred the tickets!" the older Hardy brother finally exclaimed.

Joe looked unsure for a second, worried his brother was going to start yelling at him. His smile began to waver and his blue eyes dropped.

"Thanks Bro." Frank said, relief sounding in his voice. He stepped forward and pulled Joe into a hug.

"Phew, thought you were gonna get mad for a moment there."

"No, I was just so surprised, it’s not like you to want to leave a case unsolved."

"Doesn’t seem as though we’ve got much choice does it?"

"I don’t suppose so."

"Did I just hear what I thought I heard?" asked a voice from above.

They looked up sharply and saw Mark hanging out of his bedroom window. He was joined a second later by Rob.

"There be spies in our midst!" Kiwi shot back.

"You’re leaving?" asked Rob surprised.

"Yeah, the day after tomorrow. We’re going to pick up the tickets from the airport."

"Hang on, and we’ll come with you," Mark offered.

"No, we can’t leave Helen alone in the house," Rob reminded them.

"And the police are coming to pick up the evidence," Frank also pointed out.

"Why don’t me and Rob stay?" suggested Joe, glancing at Rob, who nodded his head in agreement.

***

Overhearing the conversation below, Helen nodded in grim satisfaction. "That’s two almost gone, just got to get the other three out the way," she thought, "Rob and Kiwi should be easy – Mark will be a problem."

She went to the wardrobe and pulled down Alex’s leather briefcase from the top shelf. Unzipping the fastening, she pushed the folder in and felt her fingers snag against a piece of card. She drew it out, turned it over and saw it was an out-of-focus photograph of her and Alex standing with their arms around each other in the grounds of Bungay Castle in Norfolk. Rob was standing just to the right of them with a slightly embarrassed look on his face. Unbeknownst to the two other figures in the picture, his arm was outstretched behind Alex’s back, his first two fingers protruding above her husband’s head in a ‘V’ shape. The picture had been taken during a holiday they’d shared a couple of years previously.

She smiled ruefully - Mark never could take a decent shot! Sitting down slowly on the edge of the bed she studied the picture while memories began filtering back.

She remembered the day they’d all gone to the beach and childishly built a huge sand castle. Alex had insisted on kicking it down at the end of the afternoon: "If we can’t take our Earldom with us, no one can have it!" he’d announced, before taking a running jump at it. She recalled it had been a blustery day, and they’d all suffered from uncomfortable windburn afterwards.

She thought of the water-fight they’d fought in the garden of the cottage they’d rented. They’d challenged each other to a duel and had split into two sides. Rob had foolishly decided on the rule "No large guns allowed…" This was like a red rag to a bull as far as Alex and Helen were concerned. They’d immediately gone out and purchased the biggest water rifles they could afford and a number of backup pistols. The second Mark had seen their arsenal of weaponry, he’d immediately turned traitor and started blasting Rob - much to his brother’s disgust.

The smile slowly dropped from Helen’s face as she admitted to herself that the holiday in Norfolk had been the last holiday they’d ever be taking again. A single tear splashed onto the picture sending little drips splattering outwards. She signed dejectedly and wiped it dry on the bedclothes before pushing it back into the case. Reaching for the telephone, she composed herself and dialed.

Ten minutes later, she was watching from behind the curtain as Frank, Kiwi and Mark climbed into Frank’s hire car and drove away. She’d changed into a smart, pale, blue, skirt suit and was wearing heals which she kicked off. Picking them up with the hand that wasn’t carrying the brief case she left the room and tiptoed down the stairs until she got the top of the final flight. She halted and listened, her head cocked on one side. Detecting Rob and Joe’s voices filtering through from the direction of the garden, she quickly descended the rest of the steps and retrieved her car keys silently from the table.

Joe and Rob heard nothing as Helen left the house and also failed to detect the quiet hum of the BMW’s engine as it purred into life.

She pulled out of the driveway and turned into the main road, not noticing the sleek car that was parked just a little way up the street.

As she disappeared into the distance, the other car slowly coasted forward and pulled into the sidewalk, just behind Helen’s front hedge out of site. Two large men climbed out and stood looking over the top of the boundary fence at the house.

***

Joe lay out at a full stretch on the sofa in front of the TV and crossed his feet at the ankles. He laid the remote control on his chest and began his customary channel hopping.

Rob was in the garden making himself useful. He’d decided to peg out some of the overgrown shrubs that had been allowed to sprout out-of-control over the last couple of weeks. He went to the shed and selected a number of different lengths of metal tubing and threw them haphazardly over his shoulder onto the grass.

He looked about him at the disorganized power tools, and garden equipment and finally spotted the garden twine hiding behind the lawn mower. He retrieved it and delved about looking for a pair of scissors. Pulling aside a can of oil, he managed to smear some onto his fingers, "Yuk!" he muttered, rubbing it off on his jeans.

Weaving his hand further towards the back, he felt something sticky and itchy glue itself suddenly to his arm. Grimacing, he withdrew and realized all at once he’d put his hand into a web as a huge black house-spider ran across his forearm in a panic. He shook his hand and jumped back cringing.

He decided to head back to the house for a pair of scissors instead so stepped out into the sunshine and threw the twine down next to the pipes. Spying the discarded coke cans still standing upright on the grass, he retrieved them and headed around the side of the house towards the refuge bin. He lifted the lid and dropped them inside.

"Well, well, well….who do we have here?" asked a deep voice.

Rob’s looked slowly up and saw two rather large men standing in front of him. "Can I help you?" he asked, recognizing them as Mike’s legal representatives who’d been loitering in the doorway of the police station’s canteen the night before.

"I think maybe you can. My boss is keen to reacquire a certain piece of jewelry, and we have it on great authority that YOU are in possession of it - about your neck."

Rob narrowed his eyes, his brain working overtime. "I see...you’re not Mike’s solicitors at all are you? You’re the two goons who’ve been working him over."

Brendan started a slow clap, "he’s clever ain’t he…don’t you think he’s clever?" he asked, turning to Phil who nodded.

"Well, I’ve got news for you lads, I don’t have the ring anymore, the police have it…" Rob lied, "…so you’ve wasted your time."

Phil tut-tutted and shook his head, "oh…no, no, no…that’s not what we wanted to hear. Now, let’s have the truth sunbeam."

Rob replaced the refuge bin lid patiently, put his hands on his waist and leaned forward. "I’m sorry, I didn’t realize - English is obviously not your first language. Let me put it this way, slowly and succinctly so you can understand - I…DON’T…HAVE…THE…RING - capish? So you can tell your boss - whoever he may be, to go jump in the lake."

Brendan and Phil were lost for words. This was the first time in their lives someone had stood up to them. They looked to one another, both unsure of how to handle this unusual and delicate situation.

Phil spoke up, hoping to snatch back control again. "It would seem he needs a lesson in good ol’ fashioned manners."

It was at this point Joe decided to hove into view. He slowly rounded the corner, having overheard most of the exchange between the three men. He eyed Brendan and Phil standing before them before turning to his friend and asking evenly, "you having problems Rob?"

"Nothing I can’t handle. Just a couple of thicko dweebs, out for a rumble."

"Hello John," greeted Phil, "nice to meet you again - come to join in the fun?"

"Looks that way," Joe answered.