"Is that really necessary, Dom?"

Dominic whirled around, a matching scowl creasing his features. "You stupid old man! You can’t just come out and tell her you want her to live with you, like that! ‘Consider this your home…’" he mocked. "Didn’t you see how she backed off?" He took a gulp of his drink, his mouth twisting.

"I saw." his father replied grimly. "And I do not need you, Dominic, to tell me how to talk to my own granddaughter." He cocked his head to one side, consideringly. "She looks like her mother – not a scrap of Marco in her appearance. But her personality seems to be very sweet…like her father’s. I would very much like her to live here, Dominic."

"Pah!" the younger Scarpetti snorted eloquently. "I don’t care where she lives, but if you want her here, you’ll have to go slow."

"And I tell you again, do not tell me how to talk to Bella!" Antonio’s voice was very quiet, but there was a note in it which silenced his son abruptly. Dom stalked across the room to stand gazing out of a window, downing his bourbon in small, tidy mouthfuls.

Quick, light steps announced the arrival of Bella herself. She entered the dark-paneled room like the embodiment of summer sunshine, like the "Tinkerbelle" her mother had named her. Antonio smiled in welcome. Dominic didn’t even turn around. Bella glanced at him in some surprise; her Uncle Dom had always been so nice to her, before.

"Would you like to walk around outside, Isabella, and see the grounds before it gets too warm? I would be delighted to show you the gardens."

"Thank you, Grandfather Antonio – I would like that very much!" Bella found herself responding in kind, to her grandfather’s courtly phrases. She followed him down the long hallway to a set of double French doors which opened onto a brick patio surrounded by green lawns and flowerbeds.

As they strolled about the garden, Antonio described the different sorts of flowering shrubs and trees growing there, and cut roses to fill Bella’s hands to overflowing. She laughed delightedly, burying her nose in the sweet fragrance.

"These are so beautiful, Grandpa Antonio!" Already the name had been shortened, Antonio noted with approval. "I love roses!" Then a sad look filled the wide blue eyes. "My mother loved them too."

"I am so sorry about your mother’s death, Isabella bambina." Antonio said kindly. "But you are not alone, you know."

"I know," Bella hesitated. She didn’t want to upset her grandfather, but it had to be said. "I have my aunt and uncle – my mother’s sister and her husband and family."

Antonio frowned in irritation. "You also have me, Isabella, and your Grandmother Rosalie, and your uncle Dominic." he reminded her. "And I meant what I said, about you considering this place to be your home now. I would like you to come and live with me. I realize you need to think about it, of course – but I have your best interests at heart."

Bella’s eyes widened. "Live with you? Here? I never thought of something like that!"

"Why not?" Her grandfather smiled. "I can give you anything you want or need, cara mia." He made an expansive gesture encompassing the beautiful gardens. "You say you love the beauty here….How would you like to spend a year in Rome, perhaps? Go to school there?"

"School – in Rome?" Bella’s eyes were now the size of saucers.

"Why not? All this can be yours." He gestured again. "I can give you anything your heart desires."

Bella turned away from him. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and when she answered, her voice sounded much older than her seventeen years.

"I only want one thing, Grandfather – and you can’t give it to me."

"Don’t be ridiculous, child. There’s nothing I can’t buy you or give you, to make you happy!"

"All I want is for Dad and Mom to still be alive," Bella said somberly. "I want us three to be happy again, like we were before. And all the money in the world can’t give me that." She buried her face in the flowers once more.

* * * * *

"Joe, I really think we should drive by Bella’s house and check on her; I’m worried about her!" Tony Prito implored his friend as they walked down the sidewalk late that morning. They had just completed a visit to Laura Hardy, who although still pale and shaky in the extreme, was responding well to treatment, and who had weakly commanded them to quit wasting their time hanging around hospital rooms.

Joe cast a mischievous glance at Tony. "Any excuse, huh, Prito?" Joe was beginning to recover somewhat from the assault on his car; he had been assured that the windshield would be repaired "immediately, if not sooner," and Andy from Marco’s was supervising the task while Joe visited his mother.

"Joe, please? I tried to call her three times this morning, and I didn’t get any answer. She’s not at the restaurant, she’s not answering the phone at home…."

"Okay, okay." Joe capitulated. He glanced around. "Where’s a taxi when you need one?"

When they arrived at Marco and Linda Scarpetti’s home, both boys were relieved to see the Miata parked in front.

"See, she’s here," Joe said. But a niggling thought permeated his mind. What if the tea wasn’t the only thing that had arsenic in it? He ran up the steps and pressed the doorbell, then knocked sharply. There was no answer. He tried again, with the same result.

"If she’s here, why doesn’t she answer the door?" Tony was beginning to sound panicked now. "Joe, something’s wrong, I just know it!"

Joe was no longer teasing. He felt in his pants pocket for a small item he rarely left home without…his lock-pick set. In a few minutes, the front door was unlocked, and the two boys hurried inside.

"Bella? Tinkerbelle?" Joe went up the stairs, calling his cousin’s name, while Tony headed for the back of the house. In less than a minute, they were both in the front hall again, dark eyes and blue ones meeting in shared concern.

"She’s not here," Tony said despairingly. "Joe, where could she be?"

"I don’t know, I don’t know…I’m worried too, Tony, but we’ll find her." Joe glanced around and spotted a key ring on the hall table. "There’s the keys to the Miata!" he cried, snatching them up. "I think it’s about time we sat down and had a long, detailed discussion with Alexander Harrington. Let’s get back to Marco’s and nail that guy!"

When Joe and Tony pulled into the parking lot of Marco’s, they saw the windshield people just packing up their gear, under Andy’s close scrutiny. The young man grinned and waved them over.

"It’s as good as new!" he exulted.

Joe examined the new windshield with care, and smiled. It looked – just as Andy had said – as good as new. He thanked the glass installer profusely, signed off the work order, and watched him depart, meanwhile giving his baby Aztek surreptitious, comforting pats. There, it’s all better now – you’re all better!

Tony’s ostentatiously-cleared throat and impatient jerk of the head called him back to immediate problems. There was a man to interrogate, and a missing cousin to find!

Joe doubted that Alex would have a moment to spare, for it was nearly lunchtime, and Marco’s was a beehive of activity. But surprisingly, Harrington was in his office, going over some paperwork. He looked up and smiled pleasantly enough, when Joe tapped on the half-open door.

"Joe, Tony…what can I do for you? Joe, are you feeling all right now? Your jaw isn’t too sore for you to work tonight, is it? And how is your mother feeling now? Tony said she was sick, and that’s why you had to miss work last night."

"She’s feeling better," Joe replied. "And my jaw’s okay. But we need to talk, Mr. Harrington."

Alexander raised his eyebrows inquiringly as Tony deliberately closed the office door and stood with his back against it, arms folded. "This looks serious – what’s up? If it’s about your car being damaged, I’m shocked about the vandalism, but other than paying for the repairs, what would you like me to do about it?"

Joe explained, in as few words as possible – but it took some backtracking and details added in – about Linda’s death, the mysterious telephone message referring to "him," and Laura Hardy’s illness. When Alexander realized that Bella’s aunt who was ill was also Joe’s mother, a little of the confusion cleared up.

"You’re really Joe Hardy, then – not Joe Griffin?" he clarified.

"That’s right. And Frank is my brother. But there’s something more, Harrington." Joe continued the explanation. When he concluded, Alexander Harrington’s dark eyes were as worried as Joe’s or Tony’s.

"Bella is missing?" He frowned, his handsome face creased with concern. "That kid’s gone missing twice in less than a week! How does she keep disappearing like this?"

"What we want to know," Tony growled. "is this: did you have something to do with her disappearance?

"We know you work for Antonio Scarpetti, Harrington." Joe cut in. "You can’t deny it, so don’t bother trying."

Harrington held up both hands in a gesture of denial. "Hold on, now! You fellows are barking up the wrong tree here! I’ll admit, I have worked for or with Antonio Scarpetti in the past. And I bought into this restaurant at his request – to keep an eye on his son. When Marco died, I started thinking about what a great place this is, and the things that could make it even better, maybe. This would be a great restaurant to own, and Linda’s death makes it simpler, I admit. I’d like to buy Bella out, sure. But I never, never would have killed someone to get it!"

"Then if you didn’t poison Linda Scarpetti or my mother, who did?" Joe demanded. "And where is Bella?"

"Joe, I swear I had absolutely nothing to do with Linda’s poisoning, or your mother’s." Harrington vowed. He thought deeply for a moment. "If you’re looking for someone capable of murder – look at Dominic Scarpetti. He’s far more vicious than his old man ever thought of being. Antonio’s a businessman, first and foremost. He might not care how those profits are made, but that’s what he’s all about. Dominic, on the other hand – Dominic is pond scum." Harrington’s mouth twisted bitterly, adding emphasis to his words. "But Bella trusts him. He’s made sure of that; he’s wormed himself into her confidence."

Joe assessed this silently for a few moments. He had interrogated enough suspects to have a fair knowledge of when someone was lying or telling the truth. Either Alexander Harrington was one hell of an actor, or….Joe’s gut told him to trust the restaurant manager.

"Okay, where would Dominic have taken Bella? And what will he do to her?"

"Dom wouldn’t hurt Bella!" Alex looked shocked. "She’s family, and blood’s thicker than anything else. But as for where he might have taken her…I’d bet on Antonio’s place."

"Where is it, and how do we get there?" Tony demanded, leaning across Harrington’s desk.

Harrington hesitated. "I can tell you – but you shouldn’t go there. Dom might not hurt Bella, but you, on the other hand, are a different story. You he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt."

"She’s my cousin, Alex," Joe insisted. "I have to find her. I have to make sure she’s safe. Now please, how do we get there?"

* * * * *

By the time lunch was ready, Dominic had managed to down two more glasses of bourbon, and his temper had deteriorated with each one. His plans were succeeding beyond his wildest dreams – why did he feel so insecure about them? He turned around as his father came into the study once more.

"Well, did you have a good time pottering around in the flowers?" Dominic snapped.

Antonio gave him a level glance beneath his silvery brows. "Bella is a delightful child, and yes, I enjoyed myself very much." he replied evenly. "Do you have a problem with that, my figlio?"

"No, Papa`, I have no problem with it." Dominic slammed his glass onto the window sill.

"She mentioned that her aunt is sick – with arsenic poisoning." Antonio grated. "Just like her mother died from, isn’t that right, Dom? You idiot, this is snowballing beyond belief! I didn’t tell you to kill Marco’s wife; what were you thinking of? You were supposed to get that ledger out of Linda’s hands, and to establish a relationship with Bella! You weren’t supposed to kill anyone!"

"You senile old man, can’t you see that your ways just don’t always work? Intimidation and suggestion are all very well, but sometimes it’s better to take care of things yourself – so you know they are taken care of!" Dominic snarled.

"And now you’ve involved Fenton Hardy—"

"—he was already involved, Dad; his wife’s Linda’s twin sister, remember?"

"And that’s another thing!" Antonio growled. "why didn’t you get rid of that stuff before someone else had a chance to be harmed?"

"Dio mio!" Dominic swore. "How was I supposed to do that? I couldn’t go back to the house again and again! When I went, she was already there! How was I to know that Laura Hardy had a thing for licorice tea? I certainly never heard of anyone besides Linda drinking it!"

Bella Scarpetti stood as silent and still as a stone statue in the hallway outside her grandfather’s study…listening to the words uttered inside the room.

"Frank? We’re on our way to Antonio Scarpetti’s place." Joe craned his neck, attempting to see to the end of the line of motionless cars ahead of him. "Well, we’re in the car, anyway. We’re not currently moving anywhere. There’s a monumental traffic jam here…." Joe grinned wryly. "At least I can’t be ticketed for using a cell phone while driving! I’m basically parked here."

"Why on earth are you going there?" Frank’s voice crackled through the phone. Joe heard him explain something to their father about Joe’s and Tony’s destination, and caught a muffled shout of dismay from Fenton.

"Because," Joe explained patiently. "Bella’s missing, and Alex Harrington said that the likeliest place for her to be was at Antonio’s; that Dominic might have taken her there. Tell me what you and Dad found at the bank, huh?"

"A ledger, with a note from Linda attached." Frank replied. "Apparently she found it in Marco’s insurance papers, after he died. It seems to be a list of names and contacts dating back about 25 years; things that would implicate Antonio and Carlo and Dominic Scarpetti – and some other relatives we aren’t as familiar with! The note says: ‘Marco wrote about this ledger, saying that his mother gave it to him when he left home to marry me. She told him that as long as he had it in his possession, he wouldn’t have to worry about Antonio bothering him, that Antonio knew Marco wouldn’t endanger the family as long as no one hurt HIS.’"

"Whew!" Joe whistled softly, and relayed the news to Tony. "How did you manage to get into the box? Don’t they have to have signatures, or something?"

"Dad brought a note from Mom," Frank explained. "She signed an explanatory note and they had it notarized right there in the hospital. And a call to one of the bank’s vice-presidents didn’t hurt anything, either. Apparently Linda and Marco were close friends of this Mr. Edwards, and he couldn’t bend over backwards fast enough, when he heard it had something to do with apprehending Linda’s killer."

"Are you on your way to Antonio’s now, too?"

"Well, we might be, if we knew where it was!" Frank exclaimed, laughing a little. "We were heading for the restaurant, until you called."

"Here’s the address—" Joe gave his brother the information. "You may get there quicker than we do!" he added, again attempting to see around the traffic jam.

"Joe—" Frank was no longer laughing. "Dad says for you to wait, and not go there alone. Wait for us to get there too. It’s way too dangerous!"

"I may not have a choice—" Joe turned his head as Tony abruptly snapped his fingers and pointed, to draw his friend’s attention to a break in the line of cars. "Gotta go, bro – see you in a few!" Joe snapped his phone shut, swung the steering wheel sharply, and stepped on the accelerator.

In Fenton’s car, Frank stared helplessly at the suddenly-dead phone in his hand. "Dad, hit the gas. Joe’s on his way to Scarpetti’s."

He killed my mother…he killed my mother…Uncle Dominic killed my mother…. Bella stood rooted in place in the hallway, thoughts whirling through her head. The message on the answering machine – the ‘he’ she talked about…it was Dominic. She shivered, feeling suddenly ice-cold, despite the warmth of the day. I’ve got to get out of here! I can’t let them see that I heard…but I have to get out….

She glanced wildly about her. There was no one in the hallway with her at the moment, but she could hear Dominic and Antonio in the study, still talking, but more quietly now. The subject seemed to have changed; no longer were they discussing Linda, or Laura, or even Bella herself. She thought about taking refuge upstairs with her grandmother, but realized that if she did that, she would essentially be trapped, with no means of escape whatsoever.

As she hesitated, uncertain, she was startled beyond measure by the sudden sound of mellow door chimes. Someone had arrived at the Scarpetti mansion…someone who was in a hurry to gain admittance, evidently, for the doorbell was rung again, and then there came impatient knocking as well.

Automatically Bella started for the front door, but she was slower than Lorene, the housekeeper, who opened the door.

"Yes?" the woman’s voice was cool and expressionless. Bella hurried down the thickly-carpeted corridor, hoping against hope.

"My name is Tony Prito," she heard one of the most welcome voices in the world say. "I am looking for Bella Scarpetti. Is she here, please?"

"Yes, she’s here. But I’m not sure—" Lorene began, only to break off at the sound of Bella’s rapid footsteps in the hall.

"Tony! Joe!" The girl rushed forward, hands outstretched. "I’m so glad to see you! Come in!" She seized Tony’s hand and held it as a drowning person might have grasped a lifeline. "Thank you, they’re friends of mine!" she informed the surprised housekeeper, who shrugged, nodded, and departed.

"Bella, what are you doing here?" Joe hissed. He looked around apprehensively.

"Visiting my grandparents," Bella said, raising her light voice so as to make it carry through the rooms. "I’m so glad you dropped in…come out in the back, and let me show you the garden, and the fish pond." She kept a tight grip on Tony’s hand, and took Joe’s arm with her free hand, steering both boys toward the glass French doors.

Once they were outside, she pulled them to a halt. "Oh, I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my whole life!" she breathed.

"What’s happened?" Joe demanded. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost!"

"Over here." Bella pulled them further along the pathway, pausing beside the little pond with its golden-hued occupants. "See, aren’t the koi beautiful?" she said clearly. "They like bread crumbs…." Abruptly, she lowered her voice. "Joe, I just – just a few minutes ago – I heard my Uncle Dominic admit that he’s the one who put the arsenic in my mother’s tea!" she whispered. "I was standing outside the room they were in, and I heard him and my grandfather talking about it!" Her lips quivered. "Grandfather was angry with him about it – but Dom didn’t even care!"

"Oh, Tinkerbelle," Joe put his arms about her and hugged her tightly. Tony still kept possession of Bella’s hand, and when Joe released her, the other boy took his turn with a comforting embrace.

"You’ve got to get out of here, Bella." he murmured. "It’s not safe for you here."

"I know – but I’m not sure they’ll let me leave!" she confided. "My grandfather said he’d like me to come live here!"

"No way!" Joe exclaimed. "Come on, let’s go!" He took his cousin’s arm and turned to lead her back the way they had come – only to halt at the sight of Dominic Scarpetti, who was standing just outside the French doors. Had he heard their low-voiced conversation?

"Uncle Dom—" Bella sounded only a trifle breathless, but her hand gripped Tony’s so tightly that the bones ached. "I don’t believe you’ve met my friend, Tony Prito…and my cousin, Joe Hardy."

Dominic’s dark eyes narrowed ominously. "Joe Hardy? I was under the impression your name was Griffin."

"Well, it’s Hardy." Joe answered shortly. "Excuse us; we were just leaving. Come, Bella."

"No, I don’t believe you are leaving." Scarpetti’s voice was silky-smooth and exceedingly polite. "I just can’t bear to let a guest depart so soon. Do come inside, won’t you?" He gestured with one hand toward the house…and in the other hand he held a shiny, stainless-steel .45 pistol.