As soon as Joe had admitted Liz into the kitchen, Laura had hustled her through the house and showed her the front door, berating her all the while as to the earliness of the hour, and instructing her to come back at 10:00, when everyone was more awake and alert. This happened to be for Frank’s and Kiwi’s benefits, but Laura didn’t mention that fact to Liz, not wishing to give her anything to add to her excitement.

Liz had looked sulky and petulant, but had complied with the request – but not before her photographer had impudently snapped a couple of shots of Joe in his draw-string pants and tee-shirt, forcing Joe and his father to wrest the camera from the man and remove the film canister.

"You can get your photos later!" Mr. Hardy shouted as he shoved the man out the door, and slammed it shut before the other, over-zealous reporters could accost him on his own doorstep.

Joe heard voices emanating from the guest room; he stuck his head around the edge of the half-open door and found Frank had risen from his extended slumbers and was parked on the edge of his friend’s bed. Kiwi was sitting up, and looked comfortable with three pillows supporting his back. As Joe entered, the others halted their conversation.

"Hey, Frank—" Joe greeted his brother, and placed the clothes he had been carrying on the end of the bed before sitting down himself. Frank gave him a brief wave. "How’re things, Kiwi?"

"Achy and sore, as you’d expect." Kiwi answered. "Are those my duds from yesterday?" he asked in surprise, indicating the clothing.

Joe surveyed Kiwi’s black eye, and noted that although it was every color of the rainbow and the white of the eye was blood-red, it was less swollen than it had been the night before. "Yeah, Mom washed them for you – thought you might want to look smart this morning!" he grinned.

"Kiwi’s had a phone call!" Frank informed his brother. "From Mark and Fi."

"Yeah, so Mom said. I assume they heard the news, as they phoned long-distance?"

"Yeah – did they ever!" Kiwi said excitedly. "Apparently, we’re all over the Internet news site Mark accesses – he said they mention us all by name, and both detective agencies! Mark says the phone hasn’t stopped ringing all day, with offers of work. They’re pretty pumped about it – money for jam!"

"Hey, that’s great!"

"Looks like some good will come out of it," Frank agreed.

"Anyway, Mom sent me up to get you guys out of bed. Liz is coming over at 10:00 for her ‘exclusive’ interview…."

"Wow, she doesn’t miss a trick!" Kiwi laughed.

"No, she doesn’t." Frank agreed.

"—and you’ve still got to run by the hospital for those tests, Kiwi." Joe continued. "Dad said to tell you not to worry; we’ll get in the car and leave from the garage…that way we can avoid the reporters and we won’t get hassled."

There was a long silence, during which Frank and Kiwi looked at Joe blankly.

"Eh?" Kiwi asked, finally. "What are you whittering on about, dude?"

"I can see you’re allowing the glare of publicity to go to your head again, little brother." Frank teased, and started to laugh.

Joe glanced at the curtain-covered window. "You haven’t looked outside, have you?"

"No – why?" his brother asked, and got up. He pulled the curtain aside, gasped, and moved to one side, out of view. "Oh, man!" he exclaimed.

"What – what?" Kiwi demanded to know.

"There are reporters all over the street!" Frank explained, and started grinning. "Fame at last!" he joked.

"This I’ve gotta see." Kiwi decided, and started pushing the bedclothes away. Gingerly, he eased himself out and onto his feet, waving Joe away when he proffered assistance. Keeping to one side, he moved to stand by Frank and see for himself, carefully protecting his side with his arm.

He stared for a few seconds. "There’s heaps of them," he muttered. "Look at them all – like vultures circling a carcass…."

"I’m not sure I like your turn of phrase," Joe cut in. "I’m not a carcass – although I can’t speak for Frank, of course…."

"Hey!"

Kiwi snorted with sudden mirth. "Ouch…ouch…" he groaned through his sniggers, and gripped Frank’s arm for support. "Don’t make me laugh – it hurts!"

*****

Following their interview with Liz – which lasted only an hour, at Laura’s insistence – the Hardys, Fenton included, took Kiwi Dave to the hospital, following a circuitous route to shake the tail of reporters that had decided to follow them.

To everyone’s utter astonishment and delight, the x-ray results showed that Kiwi’s ribs were intact, merely badly bruised. Although Kiwi couldn’t recall being hit in the ribs while he was conscious, Joe pointed out that Albright had kicked him when he was down, after being thrown into the locker door

Two more pieces of good news awaited them: no long-term eye or sight damage, and no signs of concussion.

"That’s good," Frank had noted with relief. "One of us staggering around with a concussion is enough!"

Nevertheless, the bruised ribs were still a nasty injury, with resultant minor muscle damage, and he was instructed to take it easy for at least a week – and was forbidden to return to England until after he’d been given an all-clear.

Kiwi phoned home as soon as they were back at the Hardy house, to give his friends and fiancée the good news – and the rejoicing echoed across an ocean!

*****

A week later, a small group consisting of the Hardys, their girlfriends, and Kiwi Dave assembled in the airport departure lounge, occupying comfortable corner seats while waiting for Kiwi’s connection flight to be called. Despite his joy at finally going home, Kiwi felt a near-equal sadness. Renewing his acquaintance with the Hardys, and meeting their friends and family, had been a wonderful and fortuitous experience, and he knew he was going to miss them – but at the same time, the opportunity of being reunited with the girl he loved and his long-time friends, was tugging at him with equal insistence.

The passage of a week’s time had allowed Kiwi’s black eye to go through several different shades of color; by now it was merely a sickly acid yellow that was barely noticeable. His bruised ribs were slower to heal; the doctor had informed him that it might take up to a month before he was completely recovered from that injury. But they didn’t show on the outside; to the casual observer, he looked completely normal.

Looking normal, however, didn’t stop the stares all three young detectives were receiving. Liz Webling had sold her story to many national newspapers, and the three friends had become minor celebrities, attracting attention wherever they went. Usually, people would merely look curiously at them; at times, however, people actually approached them asking about the case, or even requesting autographs. Joe and Frank took this in stride, for they’d appeared more than once in the public eye. Kiwi, on the other hand, was unnerved by the whole experience, and was looking forward to returning to comfortable anonymity.

"We’re going to miss you, Kiwi." Megan said now, breaking into his thoughts. "We’ve gotten sort of used to having you around."

He buried his fingers into his hair, miserably. "Crikey, don’t start!" he begged, and turned to look out at the plane that had taxied up to the departure gate half an hour before…the plane which would soon fly him away. "You’ll have me blubbing yet, if I start thinking about leaving you guys…." he said, blinking rapidly and then squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

"You’ll give our best to Rob and Mark…and Helen?" Frank asked. "And I promise – and you’d better too – there won’t by any more lapses in the e-mail department. I’ll write at least once a week, maybe more. And I’ll expect an answer, every time.

"No worries!" Kiwi held his hand up as though taking an oath. "I’ll keep you up to date on everything we’re doing, and I’ll expect the same of you, dude! We can talk on instant message, anyway – every day, if you get up early enough!" He was struck by a sudden thought. "Hey, maybe we could even collaborate on cases across the ocean? I’ve heard that Anglo/American/New Zealand collaborations work well!"

"We’ll talk every day, if you stay up late enough!" Frank countered with a grin. "And as for collaborations…keep us posted!"

They both lapsed into silence as Vanessa appeared with a tray of ordered drinks, and began handing them around.

"I’m surprised Con’s not here to say goodbye," Joe commented, taking his coffee carefully from his girlfriend. "Thanks, sweets….he said he’d try and make it."

Fenton and Laura Hardy had bid Kiwi a fond farewell at home, declining to come to the airport – they didn’t wish to intrude on the young peoples’ goodbyes – but it was surprising, indeed, that Riley hadn’t made an appearance.

"I hope he shows up; I wanted to thank him again for his help." Kiwi said, sounding disappointed.

"I’m sure he’ll come," Frank offered his assurance. "Con’s not the type of guy to let someone down."

"No, he’s not." Kiwi agreed without hesitation, and took a sip from his disposable Styrofoam container. "Oh – by the way, guys…" he said suddenly, and looked from Frank to Joe. "your debts are now paid in full – with interest."

"Huh?" Both Hardys looked at him blankly. "What do you mean? What debts?"

"The debts you said you owed, back in England….that stupid ‘we owe you one because you saved our lives’ debt." Kiwi smiled teasingly. "Well – now you’ve saved me, so…done deal."

Something on the other side of the room caught Megan’s attention: a familiar figure had emerged from an elevator and was standing, looking over the heads of the crowd, scanning the room. To everyone’s amused bewilderment, she stood up on her chair and began waving frantically. Turning, they watched as the figure made its way through the throng; as it drew near, they recognized it as Con Riley.

"Told you he wouldn’t let you down," Frank grinned, and stood up to greet their friend.

Con smiled at them all. "Glad I managed to get here in time. I was held up by – shall we say…business?" He patted his pocket and winked mysteriously at Vanessa, who giggled. He turned to Kiwi and offered his hand.

Kiwi stepped forward and accepted Riley’s warm handshake. "Lieutenant Riley…." he began, but Con gestured him to silence.

"Please, call me Con."

Reddening, Kiwi said, "Okay then…Con…I just wanted to say, thanks again for everything – for trusting me."

"You more than made up for the gamble – you were the catalyst that broke things open…." Riley paused and grinned amiably at Frank and Joe. "You and the Hardys, that is."

"But if it hadn’t been for you supporting us…" Kiwi began.

"Poppycock!" Con snorted, laughing.

"When’s the trial likely to be?" Frank asked. "I assume Kiwi’ll be called to testify?"

"Too bad they couldn’t have done that in the first place!" Joe muttered uncharitably.

"Quite," Con agreed, surprising Joe, who had expected Con’s customary rebuking response. "Also, the victims we identified may not be the full quota; more are coming to light. Albright was a busy and well-traveled guy, so the investigation is still proceeding."

"More!?" Kiwi gasped.

Riley didn’t have an answer, so he merely shrugged his shoulders, and a corner of his mouth lifted. "We may never know the full extent of his activities."

Frank puffed out his cheeks and shook his head.

Con continued the information: "Don’t forget, it will be a high-profile trial, so the authorities won’t want to rush anything – it’s not like Albright is going anywhere, is it?" he remarked, and smiled.

"Is he still protesting his innocence?" Megan asked.

"Yes, but I’ll be surprised if he continues to do so; the evidence against him is widespread and conclusive. If he carries on with his plea of ‘not guilty’ it will go all the worse for him."

Silence reigned as they all assessed the information their policeman friend had imparted.

Eventually, Joe asked, "Con, would you like a cup of coffee, or anything?"

"No thanks, I can’t stay. I’ve got to tend to that bit of…business."

"Oh! Yes, of course…of course you have." Vanessa unexpectedly chimed in.

So Riley shook Kiwi’s hand once more, slapped Joe on the shoulder, and departed at a fast pace, back the way he’d come. Vanessa gazed after him thoughtfully, her mouth twitching in secret amusement. Then she turned her attention to Kiwi.

"Next time," she said to him. "We’ll get together and try shooting. Your ribs won’t hold us back from an archery session then – I’m assuming you’ll be back to visit Frank and Joe, as well as for the trial?" she inquired.

"But you’ll be coming to England, won’t you, for Fi’s and my wedding?" he surprised her by asking in return. "It’s gonna be soon; I’m not leaving it too much longer. If this experience has taught me one thing, it’s that you should grab life with both hands, live for the here and now!"

"Well, that will make two weddings in one year—" Vanessa said carelessly, and then gasped and covered her mouth in horror. "Oh, no! That was supposed to be a secret!" she squealed through her fingers.

As one, Frank, Megan and Kiwi turned and stared incredulously at Joe and Vanessa, mouths hanging open; their faces masks of astonishment.

"YOU?" Frank shouted.

"Not as far as I’m aware!" Joe was quick to deny, and looked suspiciously at his girlfriend. "What’s the secret, who’s getting married?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing.

Lowering her hands, she shrugged and looked at her fingernails. "I promised I wouldn’t say anything…."

Megan gripped her arm; her turquoise eyes alight with curiosity. Nothing was going to stop her from prying this secret from her friend. "It’s too late now; you’ve let the cat half out of the bag, so you might as well tell us the rest."

Vanessa pursed her lips together and looked away for many long seconds. Finally, she gave them a tip-tilted glance from the corners of her eyes. "Well….You know Con’s been seeing my mother…right?"

Everyone nodded, and Joe groaned, guessing what was coming next. He put his hands over his ears, as if blocking out the words she was about to say would make them less real.

"Well…" pink stained his girlfriend’s cheeks. "Evidently…he’s asked her to marry him…."

Joe gritted his teeth and went quiet, shocked into total silence. Covering his ears had made no difference, so he covered his eyes, instead.

"Picking up the engagement ring was the ‘business’ he was referring to." Vanessa continued, relentlessly. "I helped him choose it…it’s beautiful, a real rock!"

Frank threw a triumphant glance in Joe’s direction, and he and Kiwi began laughing at his obvious discomfort.

"He’s dashing over to the farmhouse, to pick up Mom and take her out to dinner – where he’s going to slip the ring onto her finger."

Megan clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, how romantic!" she squealed.

The sound of a mellow voice announcing that First Class boarding was now beginning for Kiwi’s London flight interrupted them. Even though he wasn’t flying first class, Kiwi began to look slightly nervous and harried, as the early-boarding passengers in the crowd started moving toward the departure gate.

He turned to his carry-on bag, which was on a nearby seat. "Just to make sure I’ve got my tickets…" he muttered, tugging at his little red teddy bear, which was now securely fastened to the zipper-pull. He opened the case – and froze. "What’s this, then?"

"What’s what?" Joe asked innocently.

"This!" Kiwi lifted a square box into view – a box which apparently contained the latest, top-of-the-line digital camera.

"Oh, that?" Joe grinned. "We thought you needed your camera replaced, since you lost the other one in the Bay in the line of duty."

"No way, you guys can’t do this, it’s too much…" Kiwi began to protest. "I can’t take this…." His voice trailed off as he began to scan the features listed on the box. "Crikey, it takes little movies, too?"

Frank’s eyes met Joe’s in a triumphant, laughing glance. That did it! He’s hooked! No way he’ll turn it down now!

Almost reverently, Kiwi replaced the camera box in his carry-on, removed his plane ticket, and zipped the case shut once again. "You guys are too much." he murmured. "It’s great – thanks!"

The public address system squawked to life once again, blaring out the announcement for Kiwi’s flight to begin boarding all passengers. All of them were instantly sobered, the camera and wedding engagements temporarily forgotten.

Kiwi looked from one unhappy face to another, his heart beating fast and a definite sensation of lead weights settling in his stomach. "Oh well," he said regretfully. "This is it."

They all rose slowly to their feet, and with one hand hefting the bag Kiwi turned and wrapped his free arm around Megan in a hug and then, in turn, Vanessa. He saved his longest and warmest embraces for Joe and Frank, the three of them sharing muttered and private whispers that neither girl could overhear.

No longer able to exchange words with each other, Kiwi and his American friends communicated silently with looks and hand signals. He glanced behind him constantly, and they gave him encouraging smiles…dampened, in Megan’s case, with tears.

Again too soon, he was at the head of the line, and the woman took his ticket and passport. She checked the details, nodded, handed him his documentation, and allowed him to walk past, onto the jet-way.

Kiwi looked back, one last time. He locked gazes with his friends – his eyes lifting at the corners as he smiled – waved cheerfully once more – and was gone.

The End