Episode 15

"Jack! Can you get someone to cover for me? I've got to get Billy out of here." Whitney Adams dashed into Taverna's kitchen, obviously in a panic.

It was three in the afternoon; Jack Donati was helping the sous chef prep for the evenig rush of post-holiday diners.


"Billy? What's he doing here?" Jack asked. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. Whitney's expression alarmed him.

Jack didn't like the fact that Whitney felt such a sense of obligation to her completely screwed up family. Blake and Genevra Adams were the most self-centered parents Jack had ever seen; their youngest child, Billy, was nothing but eighteen years of trouble. David, the eldest child, seemed decent enough, but so remote Jack had never said more than two words to him.

"He's flipping out," Whitney said as she pulled her coat on without even taking time to remove her waiter's apron. "He's been weirder than ever since Mom and Dad took off for Florida. Now he's totally lost it--just stumbled in the front door, jabbering to himself about ghosts and murderers. Not good for business. I've got to get him out of here before anyone sees him."

"Hang on, I'll come with you. You can't manage him by yourself."

"It's okay. I called David. He's on his way over. I jsut need you to stay here and get someone to cover my shift."

Whitney grabbed her purse and returned to the dining room. Jack followed her. Thankfully, the restaurant was closed and empty at this hour. Helen and the rest of the wait staff weren't in yet; Nick was in the back office working.

Billy was lying on the floor in front of the bar, curled in the fetal position, whimpering.

"Jesus," Jack said, "what happened?"

"I don't know. Like I said, since the parents decided to spend this week in Florida, he's been a worse mess than usual." Whitney knelt beside her brother. "Come on, kid, let's get you up and out of here."

Billy put his hands over his eyes. "No. Please don't take me away. I didn't do it. I swear. Don't let them take me, Whit."

Jack and Whitney got the boy upright. The three of them were headed to the door when David Adams arrived. Calm and authoritative, he half-led, half-carried his brother outside and into his waiting car.

Before getting in the car herself, Whitney turned to Jack. "I'll call you when we figure out what to do about this. I'll probably have to contact the parents and tell them to come home."

"Do what you need to do," Jack said, kissing her cheek. He watched them drive away and tamped down his own resentment that Billy's shenanigans had just trashed some very special plans.

Episode 14

"Where did you say you are from, Mrs. DuMont?" Ginny Franklin smiled brightly at the young woman across the desk from her. A new client, especially one who had money, always put a smile on her face. This one was wearing a gorgeous fur coat and carried a Barney's handbag. The enormous diamond earrings looked real, too.

"Florida. Sarasota." Jenni DuMont sighed. "I recently lost both my husband and my brother. So tragic."

"How terrible for you," Ginny said, trying to muster a tone of sincerity. Her true thoughts, however, were focused on opportunity, not sympathy. This might be her best chance to sell a property at the new Hunter Ridge development. Ginny and her husband Danny were heavily invested in what was supposed to be a no-brainer real estate deal, but but with only four of the ten proposed homes built, things weren't going according to plan. They desperately needed a buyer or the new work would be halted indefinitely, and nothing killed deals like half-finished, abandoned construction sites.

"My husband was quite a bit older than me and in poor health. He passed away three months ago." Jenni took a lace hankie from her bag and dabbed at her eyes. "Then to lose my brother, Frankie, so unexpectedly, well... that was a shock."

"Frank Lassiter was your brother?" Ginny was intrigued. She loved gossip. Everyone in Pine Lake knew about the man's mysterious death at the Adams' mansion, but who knew he had a sister? This was big news. Ginny focused her attention more closely, "Tell me, do the police have any idea what happened?"

"No, not really. Although Chief Donati said they will be questioning a person of interest." Jenni was tiring of the other woman's questions. She wanted to find a place to live quickly, settle in, and get to work on a law suit against the Adams. "In any case, I've decided to stay in Pine Lake, so I need to find a house."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I want new construction, something nice. I'm all alone, but I'm not interested in some pokey little place. My poor husband was sweet enough to leave me well-off, and I figure real estate is as good a place as any to invest."

Ginny's eyes glittered. "It just so happens I have several properties you might like."

Episode 13

Billy Adams broke out in a sweat even though it was 30 degrees outside, Pine Lake was covered with snow, and he wasn't wearing a jacket. It was bad enough that he'd been hearing voices--well, a voice--but now he was seeing things, too.

The woman looked like Lassiter: the same dark, beady eyes set in a rodent face, same kind of wire brush hair. It was like she was wearing a mask of his face over her own. Maybe she was an alien, Billy thought. Aliens did that kind of shit. Took over bodies. But why would an alien pick Lassiter?

Billy put his head down as he shuffled along the sidewalk. Just on his way to get some smokes, minding his own business, when he'd seen her, and now he couldn't get that face out of his head. Lassiter was haunting him again. In broad daylight. On a public street.

Every damn day he heard the guy's voice, that same taunting sing-song, "Billy, they're gonna get you. The cops are gonna pin my murder on you and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. You and I know that I fell off that balcony all by myself while I was trying to sneak out of your house. But the cops won't think that. They're gonna think you pushed me, and they'll toss you in the hoosegow and throw away the key. Or maybe they'll figure out you're crazy. You are crazy. Totally gonzo. Either way, looney bin or the slammer, you're done. We all know what happens to little boys in those places."

Billy clamped his hands over his ears. He hadn't touched any drugs since the night Lassiter bought it, but his head was still messed up. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe the aliens were crawling inside him. New panic surged. He wrapped his arms around himself protectively as he continued down Third Street.

*****

"I would have been here sooner," Jenni DuMont had said to the police chief, "but I just buried my husband three months ago." She dabbed delicately at her dark eyes with a hankie and made a small mewing sound. "Tell me again, how did Frankie pass?"

Donati shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

"Truth is ma'am, we're not sure."

Maybe it was just because Mrs. DuMont looked so much like her brother, but something about the woman triggered Donati's cop sense, that part of his brain that instinctively smelled a rat in the room. As he recounted the facts of Frankie's death, he tried to push this feeling aside, knowing that later, he'd be doing a background check. His instincts rarely failed him.

Episode 12

There was old money in Pine Lake. Most of it came from the logging business, and there had been commercial fishing once, too. The wealthy of Pine Lake build grand homes along the shoreline and expected the best that money could buy.  In 1952, Ralph Robinson had capitalized on that when he opened an upscale clothing store in town. Over the decades, the shop he had founded had consistently offered top-quality casual clothes and elegant evening apparel to Pine Lake's elite. Business had always been good, and now, despite the general economy, was better than ever. This was due in part to Ralph's granddaughter, Gina, who ran the shop with a keen eye for fashion and solid business sense. It didn't hurt, either, that a cluster of new-construction mega-houses, called Hunter's Ridge, had sprung up on the far side of Fish Town. If the old guard of Pine Lake considered the Hunter's Ridge people to be as ostentatious as their sprawling, turreted homes, Gina Robinson was less particular. Her bank balance didn't distinguish between new and old money.

Selena Kallias had never bought anything at Robinson's; the prices were too steep for her budget. However, she had often coveted things in the display windows: a beautifully cut emerald-green silk blouse, an evening gown sparkling with crystal beads, or something as simple as a classic wool coat.

With her slim figure, lustrous dark hair, and classic features, Selena was one of those women who could make any article of clothing look great. Her picture had appeared in "Pine Heart" on any number of occasions--Genevra recognized a born model when she saw one, even if Selena was just a tad too short to be on a big city catwalk. They had formed a mutually satisfying relationship whereby Genevra paid a stipend that she considered ridiculously low, but that Selena was delighted to accept as the magazine's premier model.

When Genevra decided to run a story on the history of Robinson's, the oldest business in town, highlighting their designer fashions, Selena jumped at the chance to model the beautiful clothes. That the man she'd been dating for the past few weeks was now the magazine's full-time photographer sweetened the deal even more.

"So, babe, what do you think?" She stepped into the reading room of the Pine Lake Public Library wearing an ultra-short red satin drape dress with a plunging neckline--less than two yards of fabric that retailed for $620.

Biff Monroe whistled his appreciation. The two of them were in the library after hours because he thought the reading room, with its fireplace and leather wing-back chairs, would make suitable backdrop for the photos and, for once, Genevra had agreed with him.

"You look even more luscious than usual." Biff reached for her, but she backed away.

"Don't smear the make-up," she said, coyly. "Besides, we're not alone."

The head librarian had let them into the building, then had gone off to her office to work while they were shooting.

"We could be very quiet," Biff said, with a suggestive leer. "I've never done it in a library before."

Selena returned his naughty expression, "I have to be careful with this dress."

"So take it off." He stepped toward her.

Selena made a shooing motion with her perfectly manicured hands. "Biff. Get to work. We can play later."

With a frustrated sigh, Biff did as he was told. He was good at his job and for the next two hours, he took shot after shot of Selena in each of the five elegant dresses that Robinson's had loaned for the story. Keeping his mind fully on the task was impossible, though.

Selena was different from any woman he'd ever met. She could match him step for step being rowdy and then, like him, she could turn serious without becoming self-righteous. She was beautiful, irreverent, and smart. Biff thought of all these things as he looked through the viewfinder of his camera. He adjusted the lighting to better show the delicacy of her features, the shine of her hair, and the brightness in her eyes. As he worked, her realized how deeply and truly he loved this woman, and when he asked her to turn a bit so she was facing the camera, he could see in her eyes that she loved him, too.

Episode 11

Genevra Adams sat quietly in her office looking over proofs for the next edition of "Pine Heart." She loved her job as publisher and editor-in-chief of this glossy magazine about the citizens of her community. In the past five years, she'd taken the publication from a thin concept to an eighty-page, full-color periodical full of photos and articles that everyone in town read, whether they admitted it or not.

Today, however, Genevra was finding it hard to concentrate. Thanksgiving had been the usual disaster, and the rest of the holidays promised to be just as grim.

Genevra's son, Billy was being very difficult. He refused to talk to her, and his behavior had been increasingly odd, even by Billy's standards. His newest quirk was sleepwalking. At three this morning, she'd found him crouched in the dark upstairs hallway, muttering to himself about ghosts. When she shook him, he snapped out of whatever trance he'd been in, insisting that he'd just had a bad dream. Everything was fine.

Billy's sister, Whitney, was almost as annoying as her brother. She stayed out until all hours of the night, supposedly at "work." At least Bake agreed that it was completely unacceptable for their daughter to be tending bar, especially at Taverna. Of course, the very reason the silly girl chose the job was to irritate her parents. Blake and Genevra had never made it a secret that they despised Nick Kallias and wouldn't think of setting foot in his restaurant. However, as frustrating as it might be, Genevra knew better than to voice her objections to Whitney's ridiculous employment. It would only stir up unpleasant issues that were best forgotten.

"Morning, Boss." Biff Monroe walked into Genevra's office without bothering to knock. He sauntered over to her desk. "What do you think if the winter wonderland shots?"

"They're fine."

"Doesn't look much like the old golf course, does it?" Biff said, tapping the pink- and blue-hued photo of a frosted landscape that Genevra had selected to be on the magazine's next cover.

"No. I know that course rather well, and I'd never guess. It's a lovely picture."

Genevra had to acknowledge that Biff was an excellent photographer. In the weeks that he'd been working for her, his images of Pine Lake gardens, landscapes, and social events had greatly improved the aesthetic aspect of "Pine Heart." Advertising sales had skyrocketed, and subscriptions were growing.

In spite of his talents, Biff was a risk. There were days when Genevra worried that he might be more of a liability than she could manage. He had a bad reputation, and he was too independent, but so far, so good.

Episode 10

Claire's House

By the time Claire Monroe got home, all she wanted to do was put her feet up and enjoy a glass of wine in peace and quiet. Biff was out for the evening (whatever that meant these days), so she didn't have to worry about dinner for him. Cheese and crackers would be enough for her, maybe a few celery sticks so she had something sort of healthy. She'd eaten spaghetti in the hospital cafeteria during her three o'clock lunch break. She wasn't hungry now. Just tired. Two double shifts this week had taken a toll. She wasn't as young as she used to be. Back in the day, she could work a double, go to her classes at nursing school, and head back to the hospital with only three hours of sleep.

There had been a price to pay for that, however. She hadn't always been there for Biff. Claire felt guilty about that, but what choice did she have? Getting pregnant at seventeen had been a total game-changer. Her parents had never forgiven her. They moved away to escape the humiliation she'd brought on them, and they'd never looked back. Never tried to contact her. Didn't care about Biff.

Claire had raised her son as best she could, which had been rough on them both. Between the ages of 8 and 18, Biff had been a handful. Rebellious, angry, and too smart for his own good.

She had just settled herself on the sofa, feet propped on the ottoman, glass of merlot at her side, when the doorbell rang. Unexpected visitors after eight at night were not welcome. Reluctantly, she roused herself, prepared to be nasty to whoever was inconsiderate enough to disturb her.

Annoyance was replaced by fear when she opened the door to Chief Donati.

"John? What's wrong? Is Biff all right?" Claire felt the blood drain from her face.

"Hi, Claire." The police chief stood with his hat in hand. He had a sweet smile, but his eyes looked worried. "Biff's fine, as far as I know."

The two of them stood staring at each other while the air between them thickened with tension.

"Can I come in for a minute?"

"Business or pleasure?"

"Business."

Claire stood aside and Donati walked into the house.

It was a small place and not much to look at from the outside, but Donati noticed the living room was tidy and inviting. He wished this were a social call. Maybe one day he'd get up the courage to see if Claire would have dinner with him, but right now, there were police matters to attend to.

"Biff's not home?"

"No. Why?" Claire's eyes narrowed, and the tension in her face was replaced with a harder expression.

Donati didn't like what he was about to say. "You heard about the body found over at the Adams' place?"

"Yes."

"Biff's business card was found on the guy."

"So what? Biff hands those cards out to everybody."

"Well, I agree it doesn't mean much on its own, but the thing is...we got an anonymous tip that Biff was seen coming through the woods behind the Adams' property pretty close to the time this guy, Lassiter, was killed. I need to ask him some questions."

"Are you kidding me?  He's been back in town three weeks, and the first thing that happens you figure it has to be his fault?"

"I'm sorry, Claire." Donati reached out to touch her arm.

"Just leave," she said, shrugging away from him.

Episode 9

Nick Kallias was half-asleep on the couch in the family room. The football game was on television, but he couldn't care less who won. He didn't even really like football, but figured he had to have it on just to assert his masculinity in a house full of women.
Helen and their younger daughter, Tiana, were in the kitchen preparing a traditional Thanksgiving meal, in which he also had no interest. On a rare day off from the restauarant, he'd have preferred a burger and fries. When he'd said as much this morning, Tiana had accused him, good-naturedly, of being un-American.
"You behave like a middle-aged, old-maid school-teacher," He'd fired back. "Are you 16 or 60?"
That brought Helen into the argument, "Nikolas! Leave her alone."
And the shouting match was on. Helen won. She always did. Nick grabbed a beer from the fridge and escaped to the family room.
He had to admit the scents wafting from the kitchen were enticing. And if Tiana was a little too much of a mama's girl, at least she was a good girl. Nick was increasingly worried that he couldn't say the same for his older daughter. Selena was twenty-two, but by God, if she lived under his roof--which for reasons he couldn't fathom, she still did--she had to obey his rules. Last night, she hadn't come home until three in the morning, and now she was out again, probably with that damn Monroe kid. Nick was going to have to put a stop to that.

*******

Blake Adams nodded to the maid to remove his plate. Juanita? Rosa? Every week it was a new girl from Fish Town working in their kitchen. Genevra was demanding and the help usually didn't last more than a couple of weeks. Fortunately, there seemed to be an endless supply of new workers.

It had been a rough couple of weeks for the whole family, what with cops and reporters crawling all over the place trying to figure out what had happened. All Blake knew was that a nineteen-year-old drifter by the name of Frank Lassiter did a nosedive from the balcony outside of Billy's room and splattered himself all over the terrace. Nasty business. The cops had been grilling Billy mercilessly; the poor kid was a wreck.

From his place at the head of the table, Blake surveyed his family. Billy was staring off into space, the food on his plate untouched. He looked like crap. Blake wondered if maybe Genevra ought to take him to the doctor. Then again, Billy was in his senior year of high school; he couldn't afford to miss classes and get worse grades than he had already. Getting him into college was going to be tough enough.

His other two children, Whitney and David, both had their heads bowed, the telltale glow from their phones reflected in their faces. The hours Whitney spent bartending at Taverna meant Blake seldom saw her, but they didn't have much to talk about anyway. He was more or less resigned to his disappointment with her, recognizing that she'd only taken that ridiculous "job" to annoy and embarrass him. He really ought to kick her out of the house, make her understand that she needed to do something more with her life, but Genevra would never allow it.

Blake employed his eldest child, David, at Adams' Investment Services. The guy was at the office every day, but that made him no less of an enigma. David had his own small house on the south end of Pine Lake, and rarely came home. Blake had driven past the house once or twice. He'd never been invited in, and he had no idea what David did with his time when he wasn't at work.

Genevra, as usual, was making notes in the spiral she always had at her side. Her phone sat next to her plate, too. She had not uttered more than a dozen words during the meal.

"May I be excused?" Billy asked. His plate was still untouched.

"Yes, of course, dear," Genvera answered without looking up from her notes.

"You haven't eaten your dinner," Blake said.

"I'm not hungry." Billy stood. He looked shaky and pale.

"This is a family meal. Sit down until the rest of us are finished," Blake demanded.
Whitney and David looked up from their electronic distraction devices.

"Does anyone want some pumpkin pie?" Genevra asked, finally raising her eyes from the spiral. "Billy, it's your favorite kind, the one with pecans and coconut."

"I said, I'm not hungry." Billy turned and slouched from the room.

"Damn kid," Blake muttered.

It was the longest conversation of the day.