Laura found a parking spot in front of a rundown little café, parked, and then shut the car off. Fenton looked across at her.  “I think it might be better if you waited here. This guy isn’t very nice.”

Leon had phoned Fenton just after supper, surprising him with how quickly the drug-dealer had found out the information the detective needed – and the sleuth had immediately agreed to meet with him. This time they chose to talk in a café as a precaution, ensuring things would not get out of hand by either of them.

The detective had wanted to have Sam drive him, but once he found out that Smuff had blown off his stake-out assignment, he decided to have Laura do it instead; knowing Leon would not try anything in the café. The man might be despicable but he was not stupid – there would be too many witnesses. And at least this way, neither Laura nor Joe was left home unprotected as Frank was going to be gone and Joe was still recovering from a concussion.  His wife heartily agreed.

“Indeed not,” Laura said, as she opened her door and stepped out. The evening was a hot and muggy continuation of the day, and even at 8:30 p.m. the August night was well lit, giving no respite from the humidity with darkness. “Now are you coming or what?”

Grumbling, the detective followed his wife, silently cursing the heaviness of the heat as he stepped out of the air-conditioned car.  “Fine.  Just promise me one thing, though?”

“Anything,” she said sweetly as she waited for him to open the café door.

“Let me do the talking, okay?”

“Of course dear,” Laura smiled pleasantly, “Don’t I always?”

Fenton shook his head and groaned; just knowing he was going to live to regret this!

Leon glanced up when he saw the couple come in and slowly make their way towards him. He smiled broadly at Laura, appreciating what he saw.

“Now that’s what I call one fine looking woman,” the big man whistled when they got within earshot. Fenton rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh; Laura smiled at Leon.

The café was small and dank. The tables were too close together and the hostess unpleasant; however, it was very cool; a large overhead ceiling fan providing relief for its patrons – so on any summer night, it was well populated. And tonight was no different.

“You got something for me?” Fenton cut in, wanting to get his wife out of here as soon as possible.  His dark brown eyes scanned the other people as he spoke, vigilant to any sign of trouble.

“Hey, don’t rush a brother,” Leon chastised him as he patted the empty seat next to him.  “Sit down, have a coffee.  We got plenty of time to talk.”

Fenton shook his head.  “I don’t think so. Talk.”

“Fine,” Leon said as he shrugged.  “No sweat off my b—” he stopped and grinned sheepishly at Laura.  “No sweat.”  He turned back to Fenton.  “You’re not going to like this.”

“Probably not,” the detective agreed.

“And you owe me big time for this—”

“Leon,” the sleuth’s voice held a warning note.

Leon shrugged.  “Look, this cost me.  I had to pull in favors like it ain’t nobody’s business!”

“LEON!”  Fenton’s patience was at an end.

The big man held up his hands placatingly, “All right.  All right!” He turned to Laura.  “Is he always like this?”

“Leon, please,” she said, reaching out and touching his hand.  Fenton cast her a look of disbelief.  “This man is after my family – my sons. Please.  We need to know.”

The big man nodded his head and then looked at Fenton.  “She’s a real class act, Hardy.” Leon sat back; his gaze flickered from one to the other, finally coming to rest on Fenton. “Smuff. The man you want is Oscar Smuff.”

* * *

Joe was still shaking his head as he headed into the kitchen.  ‘Ten years without a date!’  he shivered at the thought, ‘ten whole years…!’ He hoped Sam would drum up the courage to make the call, as the teen just knew this woman would be great for him.  And from the little bit Sam had told Joe about her, he knew that the investigator liked Ethel already!

Looking in the fridge, the teen smiled as he saw a container with leftover stir-fry in it. He’d been too uptight during supper to eat much and his stomach was letting him know, in a big way, that he was hungry!  Putting the container down on the counter, the boy got a plate and piled a generous amount of food on it before placing the plate in the microwave and turning the microwave on.

Leaning against the side of the counter, Joe tried to resist an increasing urge to scratch his forehead – the scabbed-over gash was itchy!  Finally out of frustration, he wet a paper towel and gently patted at the sore, sighing in relief when the itching stopped.

He thought about Sam again and frowned.  ‘He isn’t going to call her,’ he thought to himself as he chewed on his lip and watched the microwave count down.  ‘Oh, he’ll want to…. But after ten years, it’ll be easier for him to make up excuses for not calling – than to call.’ The boy frowned.  ‘He’ll end up regretting not calling for the rest of his life – always what-if-ing what might have happened.  Hmmm…’

Ethel Morris – that was the name on the card.  Assistant medical examiner.  A crafty little smile played across the boy’s handsome face.  “Dare I?” he asked himself and then grinned, “Oh yeah, I dare…”

Moving across to the kitchen phone, Joe picked up the receiver and dialed the Bayport Police Department. Two transfers and a minute and a half later, he heard a woman’s voice on the other end.

“Hi,” he said pleasantly after she’d finished her greeting, “Ethel? You don’t know me, but my name is Joe Hardy…”

* * *

Sam sat down behind the desk in Fenton’s office and stared at the phone. “To call or not to call,” he muttered, “That is the question! Whether it is better to suffer the slings and arrows of never knowing…than to risk making a fool of myself and being rejected…” he broke off and scowled.

‘Give me psychopaths, rapists, murderers, dregs of society – no problem – but give me one pretty brunette with light brown eyes? Terrifying!’ he mused. He picked up the receiver, held it in his hand for a moment marveling at how heavy it felt, and then he hurriedly hung it back up.

“No, I can’t do this—” he started, “Now is not a good time!  Not with some nutcase after Fenton, Laura and the boys. No. I’ll – I’ll call her later…after the case is over – maybe.  Or next week, after I’ve given it some more thought.  Better yet, at the end of the month – things are usually pretty light then—” His rambling was interrupted as Joe stuck his head into the office doorway and smiled at him.  He held out the cordless kitchen phone:

“It’s for you!”

Sam looked at Joe, detecting something in his voice – excitement, maybe?

“Who is it?” he asked warily, even as he reached out for the phone.

Joe gave it to him and then his face broke into a wide grin.  “Ethel!” He was out of the office before the shocked investigator had any chance to respond!

Sam stared at the phone in his hand for a few moments, and then taking a deep breath, he swallowed the nervous lump in his throat, put the phone to his ear and said pleasantly, “Ethel!  What a pleasant surprise, I was just going to call you!”

* * *

Joe knew that Sam was going to kill him as soon as he got off the phone – oh, the investigator would probably thank him for making the first step for him, but he was still going to kill him!

Going back into the kitchen, the boy popped open the microwave door, took out the steaming plate of food and then sat down at the table. He was two mouthfuls into the stir-fry when he heard a soft knock at the kitchen door. 

Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Joe stood up, wondering vaguely which one of their friends it was going to be this time, as they were the only ones who came in the kitchen door. ‘Probably Biff,’ he decided, opening the door, as his best friend was their most frequent visitor!

He started to say hello but the word froze on his lips as he saw the man standing on the back porch!  It was not Biff.

“Hello little lamb,” Oscar Smuff smiled, and then appraised the startled youth with a cold sinister look.  “Long time no see.”

Joe just stared at him, and as if a heavy curtain was falling away from a window and lighting a darkened room, he remembered… everything.