Frank moved to his desk with a thoughtful look on his face. He wasn’t particularly bothered by Joe kicking him out of the room – he was more concerned with his brother’s intense reaction to hearing Frank’s suspicion about Coach Iago.

To him it was blatant proof that he was on the right track. Joe was terrified, that much was clear. ‘But of what?’ he wondered as the thoughtful look turned to a scowl, ‘what exactly did Iago do to him?’

A chilling thought filtered into his mind – one he’d already had but disregarded. However, now as he mulled over Joe’s personal revelation about his fears and then this strong reaction to hearing Frank admit he suspected Iago…he swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat.

Had his Little League coach molested his brother all those years ago? Was that what ‘this’ was all about? What it had always been about??

“Oh God,” he whispered, “what if—”  His voice choked off and this time it was Frank that ran for the bathroom.

* * *

Laura heard the knock on the front door and was surprised when she opened it and saw Oscar Smuff standing there.

“Oscar?” she said a bit tentatively. The blond woman had not seen the detective in years but as she took in the rumpled plaid coat and frumpy hat, she was sure it could be no one else.

The short man tipped his hat to her. “Laura, a precious flower, as always.”

The woman blushed slightly hating the way he peered at the world through small, beady eyes.  ‘Not unlike a rat’, she thought, suppressing a shudder and covering it up with a smile, “Thank you. You’re looking – um, well…exactly as you always do.”  She glanced behind her for a second and then added, “But Fenton isn’t here—”

“Oh I know,” he cut her off, giving her his own version of a smile, wiping a hand across his ruddy face.  “I’m on a stake-out and I could really use your bathroom!”

“A stake-out?” Laura frowned and then asked, “Exactly what are you ‘staking’ out?”

“Your house,” Oscar said matter-of-factly as he squirmed on the step in front of her. “Your bathroom?”

“Oh, yes of course.”  Laura moved away from the door to let him in.  “Down that hallway, second door on the right.”  She indicated the hallway where Fenton’s office and the spare room that Gertrude used when she visited, was. Oscar quickly scurried down the hall while Laura stood in the living room and waited for him to come back.

‘Staking out my house?’ she thought, frowning, ‘It would appear Fenton has forgotten to tell me something…something important!’

Before she could give it much more thought, Oscar was back, wiping his wet hands off on his pants.

“Thank you very much—” he stopped and sniffed the air, “Something smells good! Is it a stir-fry or something?”

“Or something,” Laura said vaguely, already dreading what was coming next.  And she was not disappointed.

The stout man rubbed his stomach.  “That’s the problem with being a single man, you very seldom get the opportunity for a good home-cooked meal. Anything in the way of healthy is definitely not on the bachelor’s menu,” he sighed sadly and headed for the door.  “Well I had better get back to watching your house and making sure no one hurts you or your children. I hope the Chief sends someone by with a sandwich or something though – I don’t want to leave my post for even a moment!”

Laura sighed, grimacing as she could already imagine the look on Fenton’s face even as she said, “Well, we do have plenty—”

“Oh thank you!  Oh thank you!” Oscar cut her off, already heading towards the kitchen, “This is going to be one meal I won’t be able to forget!”

‘Me neither,’ thought Laura, wondering why she hadn’t looked out the peep hole before opening the door!

* * *

Joe heard his brother in the bathroom, and then, shaking his head to clear it, he moved towards the door and knocked softly.  “Frank, are you okay?”

No reply except the sound of the older boy being sick again.

Rubbing his head, which had started to ache again, Joe fretted and wondered what had happened. He remembered talking to Frank and suddenly becoming very angry with him; agitated and needing his brother out of his room right then!

But he couldn’t remember why!

“This is getting ridiculous,” he muttered at his mounting frustration, “If this is what losing your mind feels like, then I don’t like it at all!”

He knocked a bit louder.  “Frank?”

Silence and then the sound of the toilet flushing.

“Are you okay?” Joe’s concern was growing with each passing moment. Frank was never sick – well, not never, but rarely anyway!

“Yeah,” came a hoarse reply that did nothing to convince the seventeen-year-old.

“Unlock the door,” Joe instructed, determined to make sure his brother was okay.  “Let me in!”

The sound of the door lock clicked and the blond boy slowly pushed it open. “Frank?”  And then he saw his brother.  Frank was sitting, pale-faced and sick-looking, on the edge of the bathtub.

Joe immediately lowered the toilet seat, sat down on it and put a comforting hand on the other teen’s shoulder. “Big brother?” he asked softly, “What’s wrong?”

Frank regarded him through dark eyes, sad and tormented. The younger boy felt his stomach knot as he repeated, “Frank – what is it?”

“It’s you.”  The voice was so soft, he wasn’t sure he had heard it correctly and pressed:

“I’m sorry, Frank…what?”

“It’s you.”  This time the voice was louder, and then Frank cleared his throat. “Something did happen, didn’t it?  Something that you’re afraid to tell anyone.”

Joe felt his own face pale and he swallowed hard before nodding his head slowly.  “I – I think so.”

“But you don’t know what,” Frank said, his voice still soft, even as his dark eyes bored right into his brother’s.

This time Joe shook his head, “No, I don’t.”

The older boy let out a shuddering sigh and then admitted, “I think I know.”

Joe looked surprised. “You do?” he asked, his voice mildly incredulous.

Frank nodded. “Yeah.”  He paused.  “I do.”

“What – what is it?” Joe wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know or not, but asked anyway.

A heavy silence stretched between them and for a few long moments Joe didn’t think Frank was going to say anything but then he did:  “I think Coach Iago m-molested you.”

* * *

Frank waited.  He wasn’t sure for what, but he was waiting for something; some kind of reaction from his brother - something intense and volatile if what happened earlier was any indication.

But Joe didn’t say anything. He just looked at Frank for a long time; a myriad of emotions flickered across his face but it was owned by none. Finally the blond boy just started and blinked like he’d been somewhere else, before he shook his head and just said, “No, he didn’t.”

“How do you know?” Frank asked, searching his brother’s face intently, “You can’t remember.”

“I just know,” Joe started slowly and then sighed and shrugged, “it’s nothing I can explain Frank, but I just know.  I haven’t been molested, not by your coach or anyone else—”

“Then what is it?” the older boy demanded, inwardly relieved beyond words, but his brother just shook his head.

“I don’t know, big brother, honest to goodness, I really don’t know…” But even as Joe said the words a flicker of a doubt began to form in the back of his mind.

* * *

“Well there’s his car, but where is he?” Sam noted as they passed the silver car.

Fenton let out a small moan as his partner pulled into the driveway and parked. “Please don’t let him be in my house…please…”

Sam couldn’t help but chuckle. Although he too had very little use for Oscar Smuff, the annoying man never got under his skin in quite the same way as he did Fenton’s.  He offered sympathetically, “Maybe he’s scoping out the area on foot.”

His partner actually snorted and shot him a dirty look.  “That would be too much like ‘real’ detective work for Smuff,” and then he grinned, “but I suppose I could hope he was smote down by the powers that be and nothing is left except his car!”

“That’s…not…nice!” Sam tried to chastise, but the visual he got on that made it hard for him to get the words out and he almost doubled up laughing.

“Come on, let’s see what’s for supper,” Fenton said, grinning himself as they walked together into the house. The smile froze on his face as soon as he got to the kitchen and saw one Oscar Smuff smugly ensconced at his kitchen table!

Laura smiled sweetly at her husband and then quipped, “It would appear we have a guest for supper – a guest that is watching our house?”  She considered Sam a part of the family, and didn’t include him on the ‘guest list.’

Fenton blushed slightly, realizing that he had neglected to let Laura in on that ‘small’ detail. “Oh yeah, that,” he shrugged, “He’s a gift from Collig. After what’s been happening on this case, he felt it prudent to make sure my beloved, beautiful, talented young wife was well protected.”

Sam couldn’t help it and muttered, “Why’d he send Smuff then?”

“Hey!” came an indignant cry from the table, “I heard that!”

Fenton looked at Smuff, who smirked at him and felt his blood pressure starting to go up.  And then he glanced at his wife and a small smile crept over his face.

He shrugged and then addressed the freeloader: “So tell me, Oscar, you aren’t planning on shooting either of my sons today are you? You remember? That stunt you pulled on Frank yesterday? The one where you pulled out a gun and shot him? ”

“WHAT?” Laura roared, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at the flushed man. “What is he talking about?”

“It was a blank!” Oscar tried to placate, “A funny joke, that’s all!  No one got hurt!  Ha! Ha!”

“You think pointing a gun at my son and shooting him is funny?” Laura demanded, her blue eyes flashing protectively.

Fenton stepped back to stand beside Sam.

“It – it was a blank!” sputtered Oscar but it was too late. Grabbing the man by the ear, the irate mother pulled him to his feet.

“Out of here, now!  Scram!” She let go of him and the detective moved as quickly as he could out the door and down the driveway.

Only once they were sure he was gone, did the three of them double over in laughter.

“Oh darling,” Fenton snorted, “you were perfect!”

“Why, thank you!”  Laura gave a little curtsey and then looked at him seriously.  “Now, you want to tell me what all that was about?  Did Smuff actually shoot at Frank with a blank…?”

* * *

Smuff was furious by the time he got back to the car.

Slamming the door shut, he started the engine and pulled away from the curb. He had been humiliated for the last time.