"That was wicked!" Iola exclaimed, grinning over at her boyfriend.  Joe didn't reply.  He simply returned her grin and headed for Paddington Avenue.

They arrived at the Lenin's a scant hour later.  Joe and Iola got out of the van and climbed the half dozen steps to the porch.  Joe pulled open the screen door and knocked.  The door was opened by a woman in her late thirties.  She had a gaunt look about her face and her brown eyes were wary.  Her long black hair had been pulled back into a ponytail and although her expression showed she was annoyed at something, Joe got the feeling she was also scared.

Joe looked down at the woman who was barely five foot four and cleared his throat.  "Hello," he said.  "My name is Joe Hardy and this is Iola Morton.  We were wondering if we might have a word with you and your husband."

"My husband is at work," Leslie Lenin replied gruffly.  "What did you want?"

"It's about Devon," Iola said, trying to sound gentle even though she had developed an immediate dislike of the woman.

"My son is dead," Mrs. Lenin said curtly.

"I know," Joe said.  "I'm sorry to have to bring up what must be a very painful subject, but a friend of mine, and of Devon's, is being falsely accused of killing him."

"Why do you think he's being falsely accused?" Mrs. Lenin demanded angrily.  Joe wondered briefly why her eyes never met his own as she shouted at him.  "It's all in Devon's diary.  Jim said he was going to slay Devon!"

"He couldn't have," Joe replied calmly.  "Jim didn't even know that word when Devon was alive."

"What are you talking about?" Mrs. Lenin demanded, her brown eyes turning suspicious.

"Jim is handicapped," Joe explained.  "When I took him a vampire comic about a month ago, he made me explain what the word slay meant.  So he couldn't have told Devon that."

"Did you ever think Devon may have used the word slay instead of kill which is what Jim probably said," she pointed out.

"It's possible," Joe responded in a tone rife with disbelief.  "But it's more likely his killer wrote the note in the diary."

"That's ludicrous!" she shouted at him.  "You think I don't know my own son's handwriting?"

"Ever hear of forgery?" Iola asked her.

"Where did you find the diary?" Joe asked.

"In his room," Mrs. Lenin replied instantly.

"And it took you three years to give it to the authorities?" Joe demanded in shock.

"I just found it last week," she qualified.

"In which case, someone may have planted the diary in his room," Joe argued.  "Otherwise, you would have found it long before now."

"I..." she began then seemed to change her mind about what she was going to say.  "If you want any more information, I suggest you speak with the authorities," she said angrily, stepping back and slamming the door in their faces.

"That went well," Joe said sarcastically, stepping back and closing the screen door.  He and Iola descended the steps and started the van.

"Where to now?" Iola asked once they were under way.

"How about stopping back by the Barleys?" Joe asked.  "It's almost five," he added.  "Mrs. Barley has probably found the date book by now."

Iola agreed and soon the two of them had arrived at the Barleys.  Mrs. Barley answered on the second knock.  "I was just starting to call you," she told Joe, letting him and Iola inside.

Joe introduced Iola.  "You've found the date book then?" Joe inquired once they had been seated.

Mrs. Barley smiled as she pulled it from an apron pocket and handed it to him.  "I'm going to see Jim this evening after dinner," she told them.  "Would you like to come?" she asked Joe, looking pleadingly into his eyes.

"Definitely," Joe agreed.

"Would you care to stay for dinner?" she asked them.

"Oh, no," Joe said.  "We couldn't impose."

"It's no bother, really," Mrs. Barley insisted.

"We'd love to," Iola broke in.  "But if Joe goes with you to see Jim, he has to take me home first."  Mrs. Barley looked disappointed.  "I'm sorry," Iola said.  "Maybe a rain check?"

"Of course," Mrs. Barley said, her eyes lightening up.  "After Joe and his brother get Jim cleared, you can come over and help us celebrate."

"Great idea," Iola agreed.

Joe stood up and helped Iola to her feet.  "I'll be back in an hour," he promised Mrs. Barley as they left.

"What about the game?" Iola asked once they were back inside the van.

Joe started the engine and glanced at her.  "Frank can talk to Petrie," he said.  "And you guys will be there if he needs any back up."

"You gave in awfully easy back there," Iola commented as Joe put the van in reverse and backed out of the drive.

"She's had it rough," Joe replied with a slight shrug.  "Her husband took off when he found out Jim was handicapped."

"She raised him on her own?" Iola asked, shocked. Joe nodded.  "Her husband ought to be shot."  Joe never responded because he was busy switching lanes but he agreed with her.

When Joe pulled into the Morton's drive, he saw Callie's car in front of him.  He pulled to a stop behind her and everyone got out.  They quickly traded notes, then Joe announced he was going to visit Jim with Mrs. Barley.  After telling Frank he would see him at home after the game, Joe climbed back in the van and headed back to the Barleys, stopping off for a burger, fries, and shake at the drive-thru of Barney's Backyard Delights.

When Joe pulled out of the drive-thru, he noticed he had another tail.  It was a different car, but he would bet money an agent of the SBI was behind the wheel.  He grinned as he imagined the disgruntled look on Agent Patrick's face when he and Mrs. Barley arrived at the police station later to visit Jim. 

Joe took the next exit and drove to the Barley's.  He went inside where Mrs. Barley insisted Joe have a slice of apple pie before they leave.  While she went to get the pie, Joe pulled the datebook from his pocket and turned it to the week in which Devon had been murdered.  According to the entries, Jim hadn't seen Devon except for their weekly basketball game.  

When Mrs. Barley returned, she handed Joe his pie and a glass of milk.  Joe accepted them.  "Thanks," he said, setting the milk on the end table beside him.  "Mrs. Barley," he said as she sat down.  "Did you ever leave Jim alone when he played ball with Devon?"

"Of course not," she replied.  "Devon was much too young to be responsible for watching Jim.  I only started leaving you alone with him and letting you bring him home when you turned sixteen.  Why?" she asked.

"Because, I think we may have something which will get Jim released," Joe told her and started on his pie.

Mrs. Barley's eyes were bright as she watched Joe eat his pie.  When he had finished, he stood and carried his empty plate and glass into the kitchen and rinsed them before leaving them setting on the sink.  He then escorted Mrs. Barley outside and helped her into the van.

Joe gave a quick look around to see if his shadow was still around.  It was.  He climbed into the van, backed out of the drive and started for the police station.

Upon arriving at the police station, Joe told Mrs. Barley to go ahead and start her visit.  He would join her after he had seen Chief Collig.

Joe reached the desk in front of Chief Collig's office and asked the officer if the Chief was free.  The officer clicked on the intercom and told Chief Collig he had a visitor.  Joe was told to go on in.

As he entered the office, a man rose from his seat to stare at Joe with barely veiled mistrust and perhaps a bit more.  Joe smiled, coming all the way inside and closing the door.  "Good evening, Agent Patrick," Joe greeted the man who had stood.

Agent Patrick came over to Joe, straightening his six foot three frame to try and intimidate Joe.  He glared at Joe, his nostrils flaring, proving he had an intense dislike for Joe even though his words were calm as he spoke.  "You're under arrest."

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