Faraday Gets Her Man

 

I grabbed my bag from the foyer and looked at the apartment’s floor plan. I located where the storage area should be then high tailed it to the master bedroom. Checking the linen closet off the master bath first and finding nothing, I opened Pin Up Man’s walk-in closet. I moved the clothing away from the back wall and got to work. Or expected to get to work. I didn’t need the screw driver or the lighter. The flashlight app on my phone revealed something out of place along the back wall. A door that was still slightly ajar.

“That’s how he got in here.” I muttered as I stepped into an empty room. I found a light switch next to a door on the far side of the space that would not open but nothing else. Not a single valuable waiting to be carried off. Then I saw the staircase leading up. “Time to find out why Dante left.”

I reached the top of the curving staircase only to find the door at the other end wide open. This guy wasn’t one for covering his tracks. Not today at least.

Putting everything except the phone and the screwdriver back into my bag I turned off the flash and took as many photos of the room I would be entering as possible. If someone was in the room there was a chance I would see them first. I checked the pictures and confirmed it was empty.

I found myself in what appeared to be Dante’s bedroom. It was as big as my office (if two of them were set side by side) as well as a good chunk of my apartment. Most people could live in his master bedroom suite quite happily and never feel a need to leave. I noticed a desk on the far side of the room near a window. It appeared Dante enjoyed working from home.

The modern décor in the room was high end and complimented the space (if you like that sort of thing). I looked at the bed as well as the area surrounding it. All I found was a wallet and a set of keys laying in a tray on the nightstand indicative of a man who was home for the day and not planning on going out again any time soon.

There were no bloody clothes or weapons sitting around. No victims of the organization laying dead or dying. No innocent women tied to the bed for Dante’s own perverse use.

 Pin Up Man will be so disappointed.

I checked the bathroom and found nothing of interest in that room either. I turned my attention to the desk. It was situated in a private corner away from the flow of traffic. Anyone who saw anything on the desk would have to go out of their way to find it, increasing their chances of being caught snooping.

 Luckily I was one of the only people who knew that the owner of said desk and its contents’ spirit was no longer on this Earth.

I looked at the area near the desk. I didn't see any cameras around it which made me wonder if there were other people in the penthouse. I stepped into the middle of the room and closed my eyes listening for any sounds indicating the presence of others. Satisfied I was alone, I double timed it back to the desk. I found a cell phone sitting on it. It didn't take long to find a text message time stamped about twenty minutes before Pin Up Man arrived at my office.

Nonna G. knows what happened with Enzo. She’s on her way. --R.E.

I racked my brain, trying to come up with who R.E. was, but without my file I was at a loss. I took a quick picture of the text with my cell phone and continued looking. I was not getting far when I saw a framed photo sitting on the far corner of the desk, it was edged so far back the frame could have easily fallen to the floor, and gone unnoticed in the darkened corner. Dante and another man who looked like him stood on either side of a young man wearing a graduation cap and gown. The young man held an embossed diploma case out in front of him. An older woman who resembled Dante stood on the far right, a fancy corsage was pinned to the shoulder of her dress. She was beaming at the camera. Reaching out, I picked up the picture. Taking a quick pic of the photo, I was then able to zoom in on the image on my phone and take a closer look. Both the graduate and the older woman wore pendants. The young man wore a St. Michael’s medal, the woman’s pendant was a match to the distinct piece of jewelry currently cradled in my pocket. “Bingo.” I whispered. I continued searching and found a brief note scrawled in the opposite corner.

Me, Enzo, Raul and Nonna G. June 2017

Raul? It was possible the text from R.E. could be traced back to him. 

Knowing who Dante Vitale was and what he was capable of, the possibility that Dante had something to do with his brother’s untimely demise was not surprising to me. I could see the mafia leader choosing to go into hiding if he was tipped off that someone in his own organization was looking to claim his title or another family was trying to take over his territory, even the FBI getting too close might encourage a guy to keep a low profile. As it turned out, the truth was not nearly so dramatic. Dante Vitale was simply hiding from his nonna. I guess even the toughest of tough guys have at least one person they’re afraid of. Nonna G. was his.

I quietly crossed the room and left the penthouse through the private entry in the closet descending the hidden staircase as I closed the door behind me. Stopping half way down, I began texting someone in the Homicide division at my favorite precinct to let them know I solved another one of their cases before they were ever aware there was a body when I realized I wasn’t quite done.

I had Raul’s text and a copy of the picture on my phone which clearly identified the owners of the pendants Dante had been holding in his hand when he died. I realized I was assuming that Raul was the killer because who would want to kill their own grandchild? Thinking about it, if Nonna G. decided to resume control of the family out of anger regarding Dante’s behavior why get your own hands dirty? Isn’t that the point of being in charge? Someone else does the dirty work?

I decided to hold firm, Raul was the best suspect at the moment. Unfortunately, I had no proof he was in this building today much less in Pin Up Man’s apartment. If he took the hidden staircase as I was now no one would have seen him. On the other hand this area was built for the storage of valuables. I looked at the walls around me. Hearing a faint sound I looked up, and noticed a small camera mounted next to the door to Dante’s bedroom. I finished descending the stairs at record speed and located a camera next to the door at Pin Up Man’s end. Using the flashlight app on my cell phone I read the label affixed neatly to the camera's side. “Bingo.”

*****************

“Boss?”

Detective Bohannon turned towards the uniformed officer speaking to him. Ramirez was one of the new kids but he was smart and thorough. The detective liked him. "Have they picked up Esparza?" 

"Raul Esparza is in custody. He is cooperating fully and interested in negotiating a deal."

Bohannon nodded. “That's it then." The detective said. “Everyone’s free to go.”

The uniformed officer nodded but lingered.

“I have my car. I’ll be along.” He looked at the kid. “Tell the concierge we’re done for now. He’s welcome to come and lock up the place in fifteen.”

Ramirez nodded and left.

The detective turned his head slightly at the sound of my footsteps. I have to make an effort to make noise when I walk but he startles easily and what can I say, I kind of like the guy. “How are things going Detective?” I asked.

“I was hoping it was you Fiona.”

I stepped out into the light where he could see me. “A dead mafia kingpin, an unconscious antiquities dealer, a hidden passageway and all of the evidence the authorities need to catch the killer lined up on the dining table neat as a pin. Who else would it be?” I asked.

“What happened tonight?”

“The client shows up in my office, says there’s a dead guy in his apartment, he shot him, it was self-defense. He thought it was a burglar but after he shot the guy he looked around and didn’t find any evidence that the intruder was in the process of taking anything. He wanted to know who the guy was. I took the case and found Dante Vitale on the floor. Dead.”

“That’s when you're supposed to call the cops.”

“He was dead but he was newly dead.”

The detective made a face. “Meaning?”

“My client showed up at my office an hour earlier. Dante's soul wouldn’t have been passing when I looked at him if had died an hour earlier. He also had a second bullet hole in his chest instead of just the one my client swore he was responsible for.”

The detective shifted.

“I know what it sounds like but when I looked at Vitale I heard Nonna’s voice and I knew. I knew he looked the same way so many had all those times I took a peek while she was working. He had just passed away. My client couldn't have killed Dante. I felt like I owed it to the guy to find the killer before I called you if I could.”

 "Okay then." Bohannon nodded. “You going to see him again?”

“Who?”

“Your client? He's an attractive guy. There was a pillow under his back and he was laying on his side when we got here.”

“I needed him to shut the hell up so I could get to the bottom of things. I knocked him out with the vase. I didn’t know how hard I hit him so I put him on his side to keep the guy from choking or something. He can’t pay me for my work if he’s dead. ‘Sides, he’s not the most honest person. I prefer to set my sites a little higher than someone like him.”

“Choose to take on different clients?” The detective suggested. “You’re never gonna meet a nice man if you spend all of your time with criminals.” A smirk crossed Detective Bohannon’s lips as he said it.

“Thanks Nonna.”

He stepped forward. “The old girl does have a point.”

“Nice men are a dying breed.” I said shaking his last statement off.

“There are one or two left.” He countered.

I looked at the detective. “It’s all smoke and mirrors Detective. Smoke and mirrors.”

He stepped closer, into my space. Talk about nice men tends to make a nice man feel braver than usual.

“It’s getting late.” I pointed out.

“It was late two hours ago. Can I walk you home?”

“What are we, twelve?”

“Can I walk you home?” He asked a second time.

“First of all, I’m a big girl. Secondly, I’m not going home.” I responded taking a step in the direction of the front door.

“Where ya headed?”

“I need to eat.”

“A hungry girl is a cranky girl.” He said.

I said nothing choosing to respond with a warning glare.

“Hangry girls don’t meet nice men.” Detective Bohannon continued teasing.

“You have been spending way too much time with my nonna.”

“She’s a fun gal.”

I made a face, clearly the nonna he spent time with and the one I spent time with were two completely different animals. I decided I was too tired to go there. “Like I said I’m hungry. I’m heading over to The Five and Ten.”

“The Five and Ten is always packed. They’ll never see you much less take your order.”

“No one ever sees me. It’s what makes me so good at my job.”

The smirk returned, “Yet you always manage to attract the bad guys.”

“What can I say? It’s a gift.”

“Nonna says it’s a curse. A really old one.” He looked me in the eye, challenging me.

“Nonna needs to relax and get out more.” I said as I continued my walk towards the front door of the apartment.

The detective fell into step next to me. “Maybe she would relax if...you met a nice man.”

“I met a nice man?” 

We said at the same time. 

 I responded with a ‘see what I mean?’ look.

“The Five and Ten might be a nice change of pace.” He agreed.

“I’ll see you there.” I responded reaching for the doorknob.

Detective Bohannon reached out brushing his hand against my forearm. “We could go together since we’re both headed in the same direction.”

I shrugged. “Yeah well, I guess I wouldn’t want you getting lost at this late hour.”

The detective grinned. He followed me into the hallway closing the door behind us. 

 

Another case closed.

 

For now anyway.

Pin Up Men and The Detectives That Work For Them

I stood in the bathroom a few more minutes to contemplate where I might get my much needed information. I texted Pin Up Man’s address to Monique on the off chance she was copying the Vitale file and might drop it off.

I could just call the cops and leave the whole mess with them. I thought about Dante Vitale’s body in Pin Up Man’s hall. If I call the cops without the name of the real killer Pin Up Man was as good as in custody and hours away from his own untimely demise once word hit the street of the mafia don’s passing which would be a waste. The man is awfully pretty.

By the time I left the bathroom and walked through my client’s office he was waiting for me at the door.

“Checking to be sure I hadn’t trashed the place?” I asked.

He paused before responding with a “Should I?” I watched as Pin Up Man perused the room looking for evidence I had been snooping, hoping I didn’t know what he was doing. “I came to tell you the coffee is ready.”

I followed Pin Up Man back to the dining room and began perusing the paperwork for the apartment building while he poured. “It’s highly possible Dante Vitale was the VIP who owned the penthouse upstairs.” I announced. I looked at Pin Up Man when he stopped pouring.

“A mafia don has been walking around above my head?”

“The most feared and one of the most brutal mafia dons in the city.” I added.

“And he was?”

“Doing very bad things?” I offered.

Pin Up Man looked at me.

“It’s an apartment. He probably slept, ate, showered, had women over, the same stuff anyone else does in their home. That’s not important. What we need to know is why he came to this apartment and more importantly how he got in.”

Several minutes had passed when Pin Up Man wondered out loud how much it would cost for me to arrange the relocation of Dante’s body. Preferably back to the penthouse from whence it came.

I pretended to not be listening. I draw the line at moving dead people, even if I didn’t, Pin Up Man couldn’t afford me. I had finished reading on the amenities in the units and was studying the floor plans when I found something. “Bingo.”

“What?” Pin Up Man asked.

I made a “come here” gesture and pointed to the layout of Pin Up Man’s unit. “What’s this?” I asked pointing to an unlabeled area.

“An additional storage closet. It is usually. See?” He said pointing to another diagram of the units on his floor.

“You don’t have one?”

“No. It was another benefit to buying this apartment. The one on the other side of my apartment was allotted to the penthouse above. This apartment cost five thousand dollars less because of the missing storage unit and an additional $1500.00 was taken off its yearly maintenance fees. ”

“To not have an extra storage closet?”

He nodded.

“Did the agent you spoke to say what the space was used for?”

Pin Up Man pulled a sheet from the back of the folder. “Items that require secure storage but do not fit into the apartment’s wall safe. The resident also has the option of installing a panic room provided construction stays within the dimensions of the current space.”

“Time to get a look at that closet.” I said.

Pin Up Man shook his head. “Breaking into or defacing another resident’s property will result in immediate eviction of the perpetrator from his or her residence at which time he or she will be delivered to law enforcement by the concierge.” He quotes.

“Says the man who sells less than honestly procured objets d’art.” I looked at Pin Up Man. “You have a dead body in your hallway and this is what you’re scared of getting into trouble over?”

He shook his head. “If I got picked up for B & E my customers would question how long I have been doing it. Some will become concerned they are in possession of stolen property. Some of my customers are unwavering when it comes to keeping their reputations in good standing. If they think I have jeopardized their reputations in any way...I’m out of business.”

I looked at Pin Up Man, I was becoming irritated with his lack of flexibility. I tried another approach. “There is a dead mafia leader laying in your hallway. Getting caught with that body and no plausible cause for his demise other than a bullet from your gun is a lot worse for your reputation and your health than some stolen goods.”

“I disagree and I’m the customer so you’ll be doing things my way.”

I picked up my coffee. Sitting back, I glared at my client over the rim of my cup before taking a sip. “No B & E. Got it.” I responded. A new smell wafted to my side of the room, I returned to the apartment layout I had been studying previously and waited.

“Do you smell something?” He asked.

“I might be a little gassy. Sorry about that.”

“No this is something else.” Pin Up Man stood, walked to the entryway, and sniffed in the general direction of Dante’s body. He left the room.

I waited for the screaming to commence.

It wasn’t a long wait. I put down my coffee cup, picked up the floor plan of the apartment, and reached out to snatch up my client’s overpriced vase on my way through the living room. I found Pin Up Man in the hallway standing next to Dante’s body, waiting.

“It’s coming from him.” He said.

“After a person dies the muscles relax. Sometimes the bladder and the bowels empty because there’s nothing to, you know, hold it in.”

Pin Up Man looked at me with surprise. Apparently this information was new to him.

“Relax.” I said. “He hasn’t started to decay yet. Decay smells way worse than the dirty diaper pail odor that’s in the air right now.”

“It can’t stay here.”

“You can’t move him. The police are going to be looking at you closely enough without making a mistake like that.”

“So you won’t move the body but B & E is okay?” He asked, his voice rising.

“I can handle the smell for you but you’re stressing me.” I responded. 

"I'm stressing you?"

 "Let's take a minute and close our eyes. Breathe in and out. I want you to picture your favorite place.”

Pin Up Man didn’t see the vase coming at him. The fancy crystal met with my client’s head and he fell to the floor.

I moved him to the living room as best I could and breathed a sigh of relief. “Finally. Now maybe I can get some work done.”

A Spoon A Spear and A Saint

 

There had to be something else. I squatted next to Dante’s body. I looked more closely at the gunshot wounds then moved my eyes down to his hands. I peered at the one with the pinky ring on it then turned to the other hand, something was in it. I listened for Pin Up Man’s return as I reached down and slowly pulled a necklace from the late Don's hand. I had returned to a standing position and was facing the direction of the room Pin Up Man had disappeared into with the necklace safely tucked in my coat pocket by the time he reappeared.

“Here it is. The paperwork must have gotten buried during the move.” He said as he handed a folder to me.

As I began to review the paperwork Pin Up Man shifted uncomfortably.

“Would you like to look at that some place else?” He asked.

I looked at Pin Up. He nodded in the direction of Dante Vitali’s body.

“Uncomfortable?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go to another room.”

“There’s a dining area on the other side of the living room. We can work in there.” He said walking through the apartment, quickly. “I’ll make coffee.”

Pin Up Man making coffee gave me the opening I needed. “Great.” I said. I followed him through the apartment and waited for him to show me into the dining room before asking about a restroom.

“Sure. My office is on the other side of the hall. It has one.” He said pointing in the general direction I needed to go.

I set the folder on the dining table and said, “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

“Sounds good.” I responded. He hightailed it to the kitchen and I headed for the restroom to make my call. My secretary, Monique picked up on the third ring. “Great I caught you.” I waited while she told me how this was not a good time. “Which date is this? You really should make him wait ten minutes.”

“This guy is new. It’s not nice to keep a man waiting.” She protested.

“Keeping him waiting is important. It’s a great way to find out how controlling he is.”

She kept talking. Monique must like this one.

“I’m your boss. If he gets obnoxious about your boss keeping you an extra ten minutes on the third date he’s probably a dick.”

“And we have bullshit logic again.” Monique said.

“Okay, it’s bullshit logic but I am hiding in a client’s bathroom and there is a dead guy laying in his hallway so a bit of help would be nice.”

I held the phone away from my ear as Monique freaked out for a bit. “I could get out of here faster if you would please reach into my desk and pull out the Vitali file. The second drawer on the left.”

“What do you need to know?” She asked.

“Good question.” I reached into my pocket with the other hand and pulled out the necklace. “The dead guy was holding a necklace with two pendants on it. One is a medal, a St. Michael's. The other looks like the Vitali family crest with something in front of it.” I studied the pendant closely. “It’s a symbol with a spear at the base and the top is the end of a spoon? Is there any information about symbols for the family other than the crest?” I listened as Monique turned pages. “Do any of the family members have an individual symbol? What about Santino? He was the one who established it.”

I listened as Monique read what she found. “During the earliest days of Santino Vitali’s leadership the mafia Don would leave a calling card on the bodies of those who had betrayed the family. It was left as a warning to others. There was nothing on the face of the card other than the Vitali crest with a symbol in front of it. The symbol depicted a spear coming from its base, a simple chalice with blood dripping from its edge showed at the top.”

“The one I'm looking at could be some variation of Santino’s symbol.”

“Who else would have a special symbol...” Monique contemplated.

“Another founding member of the family would be my guess. How many pages are there?”

“Too many for me to stand here and read it to you.” She responded.

“It sounds like I’m going to have to find another source of information.”

“It’s only been six minutes, you want me to call the cops before I leave?” She asked.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, you alone in an apartment with a stranger and a strange body? People tend to call the cops when a dead body is in their general vicinity. Normal people do anyway.”

“No. I know who shot the victim the first time and I've already identified the body.”

“The first time?” Monique asked. “This doesn’t sound good even for you. The victim isn't one of the Vitalis is it?”

“It is.”

Monique sighed and made this grumbling noise in the back of her throat. A noise she only makes when she’s talking to me about a case. “I’m not going to tell you to call the cops and get the hell out because I know better. I do have a question for you, if you die what do I tell your nonna?”

“Tell Nonna I died doing what I love, hand her the paperwork and the lawyer’s business card then say ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’”

“I’m sorry for your loss?”

“Nonna knows you wouldn’t say that because you would be every bit as broken up as she is. They are my words, Nonna would recognize them. It means I lived my life my way and she shouldn’t blame anyone else for when or how I died.”

“You are messed up boss lady, really messed up.” I heard papers shuffling and the drawer slamming as Monique put the file away. “Time’s up. I’ve got to go.”

“Me too.” I admitted. “This guy is going to think I fell in the toilet and drowned.”

“A bad case of diarrhea would get you out of there quickly.” Monique suggested.

“Nice try. Have fun with the new guy.” I said before ending the call.

May This Godfather Rest In Peace

Pin Up Man followed me to the far end of the hall and his recently deceased guest. I looked down. I saw expensive shoes, a pair of trousers, and a shirt. My eyes stopped at the left hand and the distinct ring on the dead guy’s pinky finger, holding back the urge to question Pin Up Man’s story I continued my assessment. There were two gunshot wounds to the chest. The man died with his eyes open. His face frozen in an expression of surprise.

I heard Nonna’s voice echo through my cranial cavity. Che il viaggio dell’ amina abbia successo.

I looked at Pin Up Man. “You never mentioned you worked with the Vitali family.”

“I don’t.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, pulled up a recent news article and showed it to him. “This is Dante Vitali the head of the Vitali crime family. He is laying on the floor in your hallway. He’s dead.”

Pin Up Man looked surprised, almost as surprised as Dante.

I continued. “Which is the bad news.”

“The good news?”

“...you didn’t kill him.”

Pin Up Man stared at me for a moment like I’d lost my mind. “There are two bullet holes in this man and I told you I shot him.” He pushed on Vitali’s leg with his foot. “He looks pretty dead to me.”

“Che il viaggio dell’ amina abbia successo.” I said repeating my grandmother’s words.

“May the journey of the amina be successful?” He asked.

“You speak a little Italian?”

“This is New York, I’ve picked up a few bits and pieces.”

“May the journey of the soul be successful. It’s something my nonna says when someone has died. That is what told me you didn’t kill Dante.”

Pin Up Man waited for the rest of the story.

“Nonna has a gift for seeing souls. She has watched as many souls have left the body to begin their journey.”

“To heaven?”

“Not necessarily. The soul has to be weighed and judged before it moves on to Heaven or Hell. But Nonna always wishes them well. She’s been doing it since she saw her first soul.” I looked at Pin Up Man. “Nonna says the soul leaves the body within the first thirty minutes of death.”

Pin Up Man looked at the face of his Jaeger-LeCoultre, “I left for your office over an hour ago.”

“You shot him but you didn’t kill him.”

“When I left he was still alive?” Pin Up Man’s face paled. “I could have called for help.”

“When the ambulance arrived there would have been two bodies.” I pointed to Dante Vitale’s body. “That shot to his heart killed him immediately meaning it was a professional hit. From the look of surprise on his face, it was someone he knew and trusted who killed him. Someone like that would not have left any witnesses behind. Leaving the apartment was the smartest thing you could have done.” I studied the hallway. The walls, the floor, I opened all the doors and looked inside. Every room off of the hall was a potential access point. This apartment is near the top of the building where could Pin Up Man's unexpected visitors come from? I continued walking around. “Do you have neighbors on both sides?”

“Yes."

"Do you think they might have heard something?”

Feeling a cool draft on the back of my neck I turned around and looked up. “Who lives in the penthouse above you?”

“Some VIP no one mentions. It’s all very hush hush. Come to think of it, I was told if I bought a penthouse in this building I could be put on a special list for an extra fee.”

I returned my attention to Pin Up Man. “Meaning?”

“For the extra payment, which is substantial, they provide you with a butler, a cook, daily housekeeping, priority use of any of the building’s other amenities along with their privacy package. The privacy package is a doozy. It includes a Service NDA. Everyone who works in the building is bound by a non-disclosure agreement. They would not be able to confirm or deny that a purchaser of that privacy package lives here.”

“What happens to deliveries, packages, mail that sort of thing.”

“If the person is a resident the concierge delivers it. If they do not a courier delivers it where it needs to go. I decided I wasn’t interested in the VIP package and chose a more modest floor plan. I’m a bit of a minimalist.”

I looked at Pin Up Man.

“I still work for a living.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“A few months.”

“Do you still have the info they gave you when you were buying the place; floor plans, amenities that kind of thing?”

“I think I do.”

Pin Up Man went into his office and I took another look at the stiff. I checked for a wallet there was none suggesting that I was right, Dante was living here somewhere in the building or visiting someone. He had emptied his pockets as many men do when undressing or getting comfortable because they are in for the night. I was already wearing gloves so it was easy to pick up his hand and get a better look at the pinky ring. The Vitali crest was prominently displayed across the face of the ring. I knew Dante wasn’t a kid anymore but he wasn’t middle aged either. I also knew from word around town he chose to live more quietly than those who worked for him. I patted the body down as gently as I could and found no weapons, but living quietly didn’t make him any less of a bad guy. The stories of his brutality were well known which made me wonder what could make a man like Dante Vitali want to flee his own home? Where a guy like him would go when he left it.

Dead Men Tell No Tales. Strange Men On The Other Hand...

 

I looked at Pin Up Man’s watch and his clothes a bit more closely before committing to taking the case, I didn’t see anything that stood out about the clothes. There was a slim possibility Pin Up Man was bluffing about who he was. He could be the intruder, having killed a guy in his own apartment, switched clothes with him and cooked this whole story up to cover his own butt. What are the odds an intruder would break into a place where the resident happens to be his exact same size.

Not likely. If that was the case it would be premeditated murder and not the unanticipated mishap story Pin Up Man was telling. He smiled at me. His eyes looking a bit brighter. I raised an eyebrow in response. Apparently he thinks flirting a little will help sell it. I needed to find a way to coax any bullshit to the surface quickly. As an idea came to mind, I could feel one corner of my mouth begin to turn up in a grin then reversed the movement quickly before he had the chance to catch on. I reached into my desk and pulled out a clean contract. Filling in a couple of blanks, I turned the page upside down and presented it to my new potential client.

“I charge two hundred fifty dollars a day plus expenses. If I get stabbed, choked, shot at or end up in or near any explosions there is a $5,000.00 charge...for the first incident. The charge increases by another $5,000.00 for each subsequent incident.”

“So if there are three incidents?” He asked.

“It’s an extra $30,000.00 on the bill.” I respond.

It was a gamble, but I figured if his story wasn’t quite the complete truth or if he was in trouble with any business associates and was looking for some idiot to be a human shield he’d be motivated to go looking for a cheaper option. One of the petty thieves he admitted to fencing stolen goods for perhaps.

Pin Up Man nodded. The dollar amount didn’t seem to phase him. “Hazard pay.” He said, signing the contract.

“Someone’s got to look after Nonna.”

He reached into his pocket, unfolded a stack of bills, and began counting. “This should cover your first day’s work.”

I said, “Thank you for your business,” as I deposited the contract and the money in another drawer. Closing the drawer, I grabbed my keys and began walking towards the door.

“You’re just going to leave that in a drawer?” He asked.

“My secretary will take care of it when she gets back.”

Pin Up Man rose from his seat, falling into step beside me.

“Upper East Side.” I said, confirming our destination.

“Upper East Side.” He repeated. A look of surprise crossing his face briefly.

“If I didn’t have an inkling of who might live where in this city I wouldn’t be much of a detective now would I?”

“Probably wouldn’t.” He admitted with a grin.

I locked the door before pulling it shut behind us.

Traffic being no worse than usual we made it to Pin Up Man’s place in less than twenty minutes. He unlocked the apartment and we both entered.

“If you’ll wait here I’ll turn some lights on.”

I agreed to wait, mentally counted to ten and quietly followed.

A light came on in the opposite corner of the living room as Pin Up Man said, “I’ve never known a detective to be afraid of the dark.”

“Maybe I have a mutation that makes my eyesight better in the dark.”

“An unusual superpower.”

“World famous detectives usually have an eccentricity or two.” I responded.

“Like Hercule Poirot or Sherlock Holmes?”

“Those guys aren’t real.”

“Bur you are and have better eyes than the rest of us.”

“Maybe. That wouldn’t be the only reason I might follow someone into a dark room. There is already a stiff somewhere in this apartment.”

“And you’re afraid of what? Ghosts?”

“No but sometimes people forget to pick up random things before company arrives.”

“Like the strange man who came to your office recently, confessing to having killed an intruder. A man you have never heard of before today and know little about.” He said looking at me.

“I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Yet you don’t trust me.” Pin Up Man said.

“I don’t know you.” I responded. I crossed the room, standing in front of him, and looked in his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I can sense that you aren’t telling me everything. When someone’s not telling you everything it’s usually because they have something to hide.”

“I told you my name, what I do for a living and that I killed a man. I brought you to my apartment to look at the body, what would I be hiding that could possibly be any worse?”

“Let’s take a look around and find out.” I looked around the room. It was sparsely furnished. Full of dark furniture and expensive items designed to look unpretentious but screamed, “Expensive. The owner of this item paid ten times what it is actually worth. Maybe more. Envy them.” Quite frankly I never understood why people have to get so fancy about the basic things in life. Sometimes a vase is just a vessel for holding flowers. You know it’s good because it isn’t leaking any water. Keep it simple folks. Keep it simple. Stopping at the window I checked out the view Pin Up Man’s money afforded him. It was beautiful, also a long way down.

“The body is in the hallway?” I asked.

He nodded and gestured for me to follow. We walked into a long, narrow hallway, at the end of it was a dead body.

The World Famous Faraday

 

The door to my office opened and he walked in. The man was tall. His brown hair tousled by the wind, lending an air of seduction that could only be surpassed by the look of determination in his eyes. As my eyes continued their journey I guessed his weight to be about 185, perfect for his 6 foot plus frame. His clothes fit well and were expensive accentuating his broad shoulders and the fact that he was appropriately angled in all the right places. I smiled a bit knowing he probably couldn’t see my facial expression. He might not even be aware I am in the room. Most people aren’t. He looked just like one of those men on the cover of the secret billionaire lover books my secretary was always reading. I mentally named him Pin Up Man and hoped one of his names began with a “P” just in case I slipped and started to address him as Pin Up.

The man stopped moving halfway across the room. “Hello?” He called.

Which is what everyone else does. I leaned to the side a bit and switched the lamp next to my desk on.

“Is anyone here?” He asked, looking around.

Which is also what everyone else does. I lifted my hand in a “Right Here” gesture. He finally saw me.

“Hello. I’m looking for Mr. Faraday.”

I raised my hand again. “I’m Faraday.”

“You’re a woman.” He said.

I looked at my chest. “I am.” I responded as I turned my attention back to the stranger. He got that surprised look, the one everyone usually gets. The one that says, “This has to be some kind of a joke.”

“You’re the world famous Faraday? The detective who single handedly rescued the Lentil baby?” He asked.

I nodded.

“The reward for finding that baby was…”

“...insane.” I said finishing Pin Up Man’s sentence. “The reward was insane.”

“And your office is here, in one of the most run down neighborhoods in the city?”

“This is the office where I set up shop ten years ago. This is where my office will be when I lock the doors for the last time.”

“You don’t like change.” He observed as he stepped closer to my desk.

“No just lazy. This desk weighs a good 80 pounds. It’s a real bitch to move.” Removing my feet off the top of the desk, I leaned forward and pulled myself and my chair out of a relaxed recline and into an upright position. “As for finding the Lentil baby, some things just require a woman’s touch.” I stood up and let Pin Up Man get a good look at me. My thick black hair, matching eyes, too pale to be olive skin and the way it seems to blend in with my clothing.

“Faraday...you’re not Irish.” Pin Up Man observed.

“I am not.”

He blushed a little. “Faraday is an Irish name.”

I shrugged. “Don’t tell my nonna, I’ll never hear the end of it.” I gestured to the empty chair on the other side of the desk. Pin Up Man sat down.

“How can I help you Mr…”

“Mr. Pierce. Aaron Pierce.”

That just saved my ass. “How can I help you Mr. Pierce?” I asked. He waited a bit before he answered. In my business that kind of hesitation is never a good sign. Pin Up Man looked at his watch a Jaeger-LeCoultre, his taste extended to his time piece, I could set my own price, if I was that kind of woman.

“It is delicate business.” He began.

“I follow very specific confidentiality guidelines, if you did anything wrong that required you to need a detective I would not tell anyone what happened to lead you to my office.”

He studied my face as he thought about my words. Mr. Pierce quickly relaxed. A little too quickly if you ask me.

“You won’t tell the authorities?”

I shook my head. My confidentiality code of conduct is not quite as strict as say that of an attorney or a therapist, there are exceptions, Pin Up Man doesn’t need to know that.

“A man is dead. I need to know who he was, what he was doing in my apartment, and why.”

I kept my face expressionless and nodded, once.“Why is that important to you?”

“Because I’m the one who killed him.”

Pierce looked at my face searching for some indication of whether I was trustworthy, if it was okay to share more information. I waited him out.

“I am a business man. A successful one. I sell art along with various rare artifacts. I’m successful because I am a bit more open to non-traditional approaches when it comes to acquiring particularly expensive and difficult to locate pieces.”

“You steal them.” I suggested.

“I acquire them which does mean purchasing an item from someone who did acquire the item in a less than completely respectable manner from time to time.”

“Someone who is looking to fence their stolen item.”

He ignored my comment and continued. “Particularly valuable and rare pieces usually go to buyers who are obtaining it for their private collections.”

“The customer is also a criminal type who doesn’t want any cops sniffing around. What happened?”

“I entered my apartment and noticed things were not as I’d left them. I keep a handgun in my desk for emergencies. I did a walk through and found a man coming out of a guest bathroom. He had a gun. So did I. I shot him without really thinking about it.”

“What happened to make you question shooting the intruder?”

“I looked around for a stash of things he had set in one area of the house, things he had planned on leaving with, I checked his pockets, and found nothing. He wasn’t dressed like an intruder either.”

“Intruders don’t exactly wear t-shirts with the word Intruder printed across them.” I pointed out.

“I work with these people. I know them on sight.”

I looked at Pin Up Man with my ‘my mistake’ expression and moved on to other things. “When did you kill him?”

“About an hour ago. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I just want to be sure.”

“You killed a bad guy?”

“Something like that.”

I looked at Pin Up Man. He seemed sincere. If I’ve learned anything since I started working in this business there are some very unsavory characters out there who when you speak with them appear to be very sincere. There are kind, upstanding citizens all over this city. Some have skeletons in their closets, others have bodies buried in the back yard. Only a handful of them are truly sincere. I wondered if this was a good idea and mentally shook my head, it probably wasn’t. It was an interesting case, it wasn’t like anyone else was beating down my door at the moment and quite frankly I was getting really bored. Besides, it would always be a great story for Nonna.

Excerpt: The Ninja Zombie War: Listen For The Screams

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. If you do see yourself you are probably undead and who wants to admit they are a zombie anyway. Except for Bob. Bob sacrificed himself bravely and unselfishly to save the world from a Ninja Zombie takeover. Feel free to stop and take a moment of silence for Bob. The story will wait. (A ninja star sails past the reader's head and impales itself to the wall next to the reader's ear). You might want to hurry with that quiet moment.

    The Ninja Zombie War: Listen For The Screams

“Meow...MEOW. YOW!” Dobby walks through the house yowling loudly and repeatedly.

“Yes, kitty. What do you need?” Writer Lady asks meeting Dobby in the living room.

“Play with me.” Dobby demands.

“I fed you, gave you fresh water, scooped your box, brushed you and I tried to play with you. You wanted no part of it.”

“I wasn't ready.”

“That was twenty minutes ago. What could possibly have changed in the last twenty minutes?” Writer Lady asks.

“I finished my bath.” Dobby announces.

Writer Lady ponders his response for a moment. “You're sure about this? Because if I go get a toy you are required to play, there's no going back. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“You're sure?”

Dobby nods.

Writer Lady walks over to the toy basket. It's empty. She starts checking random corners and other spots where abandoned cat toys go to live. Nothing. “Dobby kitty. Where are your toys?”

Dobby makes a concentrated effort to look for the toys gazing heavenward. “I don't know.”

Writer Lady turns from her search to confirm that Dobby is helping. “Dobby the toys aren't stuck to the ceiling kitty.”

“Have you ever looked at the ceiling?” Dobby asks. “If you don't look how will you know?”

“Really? That's your argument?” Writer Lady asks, turning her attention away from Dobby to look under the couch cushions. “You looked at the ceiling. Now why don't you make yourself useful and crawl around underneath the couch?”

“Sorry Mom. I can't. I'm waiting.” Dobby says.

“Waiting?”

“Waiting to see if the house gives me my toys back.” Dobby says.

Writer Lady mutters and continues looking for cat toys. Several minutes pass. Five at least.

“Dobby kitty, where's the big red flashlight?” Writer Lady asks, she is holding a back scratcher in one hand and is tapping her open palm lightly with the other end of the scratcher.

Dobby watches her movements closely. “Um...”

“Come on kitty, spit it out. I don't want to be searching for this stuff all night.”

“Don't beat me?” Dobby says meekly.

Writer Lady stops tapping, thinking about what she has just been doing. She pales slightly and tosses the back scratcher on the couch. “I would never hurt you kitty. I love you. This all just so frustrating. There has got to be a better way to find these toys.” Writer Lady says flopping on the couch letting out a dramatically over sized sigh. She suffers so.

“We can get the toys back more quickly. But Mom? You are going to have to do some things you really don't want to do.” Dobby says.

“I don't care. Let's just do this.”

“Let me call the team.” Dobby says crossing to the far corner of the room where a tall table with a straight key and a set of steps appears. Dobby places paw to pad and starts his message.

“Who are you calling?” Writer Lady asks.

“The “T” team.”

“The “T” team?”

“Yes “T” team or Titys for short.” Dobby explains.

Writer Lady rises from the couch. “Dobby? You're sure? There's...there's no other way?”

“No Mom. There is no other way.”

Writer Lady groans.

“Never Fear! The Titys are here!” Tinkletoes announces proudly making an entrance from the kitchen into the living room. Tinkletoes and Carp are in full camouflage. Their faces and bodies are painted camouflage. Each are wearing night vision mono-goggles.

“What's the trouble Dobby?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Mom can't find any of my toys.” Dobby says.

“Toy Reconnaissance. I like it.” Tinkletoes says. “Carp needs practice with the night vision equipment.”

“You're the one who couldn't find his way out of the can.” Carp points out.

“Me? No. I never have trouble with my equipment.” Tinkletoes announces proudly and smiles.

“I had to come and get you. You were sitting on the floor crying.”

“Sometimes new equipment is confusing.” Tinkletoes admits.

“The lens cover was still on.”

“Don't forget Carp, I am the one who invited you to be a Tity in the first place. If you can't conduct yourself appropriately I may have to ask you to leave.”

Writer Lady stands in her living room listening to the exchange. Quietly making her way over to Dobby she says, “I don't like this. I think we have two options kitty. I can go out and buy you all new toys or we can let these two boobs find the toys if they don't kill each other first.”

“Titys Mom. They are Titys.”

“At this point they should just be fired.” Writer Lady says.

“It's too late for that Writer Lady.” Tinkletoes announces. “I teach men to fish. There will be three boobs tonight!”

A few minutes later Writer Lady finds herself fully ensconced in pink camo. There was make-up too. Yep. Pink face.

“If you two are in green camo why am I wearing pink?” Writer Lady asks.

“You're a girl.” Tinkletoes says.

“Isn't camo supposed to make you blend in with your surroundings? There is not much in this house that's green let alone pink.”

Tinkletoes shakes his head.

“Think of it this way Writer Lady, if the three of us made one giant boob you know which part you'd would be.” Tinkletoes offers.

“Thanks.” Writer Lady says and lowers her head.

Within minutes all three are on the floor crawling through the living room on their bellies. Tinkletoes and Carp have their night vision goggles on. Every few seconds Tinkletoes stops the procession.

“I told you. Butt down.” Tinkletoes reminds Writer Lady.

“My butt is down.”

“If you don't get it down further it could be shot off.”

“Are you carrying a gun?” Writer Lady asks.

“No.”

“Is Carp packing?”

“No.” Tinkletoes says.

“Then how is my butt going to get shot off? We are looking for toys.”

“Toy Reconnaissance.”

Writer Lady's face begins to redden. Then she calms. “Actually reconnaissance means to survey your surroundings, retrieval would be a much better word.” Writer Lady smiles and continues her crawl.

Tinkletoes catches up to her, “As the Commanding Officer I name the missions. Reconnaissance sounds better.”

“Until you used the wrong word.” Writer Lady points to the far end of the room. “I'll just be on the left end of the perimeter continuing search and rescue. If you need anything.”

Making her way to the left end of the perimeter which was also the left side of the couch, Writer Lady peers underneath. A bright light gleams in her eyes.

“I think I found one of the eyeballs. Reach out and grab it Writer Lady.” Carp says.

“I can't see anything. Which one is it?”

“The blue one.”

Writer Lady puts her hand up to one eye to soften the glare coming off of Carp's night vision goggle and get a better look.

“Too late. It's gone.” Carp says.

“The floor doesn't slope so the ball can't be gone unless someone touched it.” Writer Lady says. She glares back into the light in an effort to stress her argument.

“It's back.” Tinkletoes says. “Grab it now!” He has joined Carp at the right end of the couch.

“Just let me find the flashlight.” Writer Lady says, crawling around in the dark room.

“You don't need the flashlight it's right in front of you.” Tinkletoes says.

“If it was right in front of me I would have seen it already.” Writer Lady argues. “Carp? The flashlight is right behind you. Would you please get it for me?”

Carp looks at Tinkletoes. Tinkletoes gives Carp a quick nod. Reaching directly behind, Carp retrieves the Big Red Flashlight and tosses it on to the couch within easy reach of Writer Lady.

“Thanks.” Writer Lady says, reaching for the flashlight. Holding the the flashlight in front of her face she flips the light on.

“There it is!” Carp yells pointing.

Startled, Writer Lady drops the flashlight on her knee, reaches up and slaps her hand over her eye. “Ouch.”

“Oh sorry Ma'am. I guess I was wrong.” Carp admits.

“You think?” Writer Lady says, as her face throbs.

“You smacked yourself pretty good. We heard it real good down here.” Carp says. “So you know, if it bruises, your face won't just be pink anymore.”

“Thank you Carp. You sure know how to make a girl feel pretty.” Writer Lady says, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“You're welcome?”

Leaning back down Writer Lady uses the flashlight to look underneath the couch.

“There's nothing under here.”

“You sure?” Tinkletoes asks.

“I know what a cat toy looks like.” Writer Lady says glaring at Tinkletoes. “Unlike other people.”

“I'm sorry ma'am.” Carp looks at Tinkletoes and leans in to whisper. “She holds a grudge doesn't she?”

“Oh yeah. Just make sure you don't play with the feminine napkins. You'll never hear the end of it.” Tinkletoes answers.

“Why would I do that? What kind of a guy plays with feminine napkins?” Carp asks.

Tinkletoes gets quiet and pales.

“They weren't used were they?”

Tinkletoes shakes his head and changes the subject. “Where else would the toys be?” Tinkletoes asks Writer Lady.

“Anywhere. Especially on the floor or under the furniture. This is the spot they usually all end up.” Writer Lady answers.

A Storyteller Like No Other

 

“Make it quick. Daylight’s a burnin’.” Tinkletoes says. The self-proclaimed mercenary stands over the pair. “What color says ‘I have a mean streak?”

Writer Lady turns to glare at Tinkletoes then returns her attention to the monitor.

“I know, a cactus. Use a picture of a cactus.” He says.

Carp begins to replace the main picture with one of a saguaro cactus, realizes what he is doing and reverts back to the prior format.

“Really?” Writer Lady says looking at Carp.

“I wasn’t thinking , I heard a word and immediately pulled up a picture.” Carp responds. “It was not conscious.”

“So subconsciously you see me as a cactus?”

“No, not always.”

The corners of Tinkletoes’ mouth turns up in a smile.

“Words that describe you…” Carp says.

“Mouthy.” Tinkletoes says.

“Knows her own mind.” Carp says.

“Gets in the way.” Tinkletoes describes.

“Focused.” The assassin-in-training counters.

“On getting in my way.”

“It’s my house.”

“I am my own woman thank you very much.” House announces.

Writer Lady looks at the ceiling. “Yes, I know House but my name is on the deed and as long as it is it keeps one addlebrained…” she looks Tinkletoes up and down, “...disaster waiting to happen from doing something stupid.”

“When have I ever done anything stupid?”

Writer Lady calls, “TP.” She snaps her fingers and a scroll appears in her hand. She unrolls the scroll and begins reading.

“Setting out to destroy a kitchen appliance and attempting to accost the home’s occupant.”

“I was told it an invasion of aliens from outer space, I was protecting you.”

“Ruining my Christmas tree.”

“We were fixing the lights.”

“My window being destroyed by a tack button.”

“That was Dobby.”

“You destroyed my shed.” Writer Lady said.

“Mr. Donut fired the offending rounds.”

“With your semi-automatic machine gun doo hickey.” She argues.

“It's an Uzi.”

“Specially modified to fire more bullets more quickly. Why does anyone need something like that around here? What were you doing, shooting renegade squirrels?”

“Squirrels are vermin in some instances.” Tinkletoes counters.

Writer Lady rolls the parchment up as she speaks, “Call it whatever you want soldier boy,” she raises her hand and begins smacking him with the parchment as she continues, “you do stupid things and it’s wrong and that’s how you turned me into a cactus!”

Tinkletoes looks at Carp. “She admitted it. She’s a cactus.”

Writer Lady looks at TP, “Will you hurt him now? I would like it so much if you would hurt him. Now.”

Tinkletoes finds an open door jamb and leans against it. “He won’t hurt me. It’s against the code.”

“Code?”

“The Man Code.”

“You are not a man.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

“He’s a magical creature. A faerie. The man code does not apply.”

Tinkletoes approaches Writer Lady’s chair, he bends over and leans in, “The man code is an unspoken agreement between two men. Whether rules of species apply are up to the two individuals within that agreement. You being a woman, I wouldn’t expect you to know about that little detail.”

“Oh, the man card and the woman card all in the same paragraph.” Writer Lady says, “You must be so proud.”

“That hurt.” Tinkletoes says.

“Really?”

“Not the words. The scroll.” The self-proclaimed mercenary straightens himself and looks at the end of his index finger, “I might have a paper cut.” Tinkletoes looks at Carp. “This woman is vicious. Is there a persona called “Destined To Become A Serial Killer?”

“Says the man who lives to kill things.”

“I do not live to kill things. I am on a quest to rid the Earth of ninja-zombies and space aliens. I am specific, very specific.”

Carp turns to Tinkletoes. “Give it up, Writer Lady is not dangerous.”

The self-proclaimed mercenary holds up his paper cut.

“I have never been injured by Writer Lady.”

“Neither have I.” Dylan says as he enters the room.

“Nor I.” Paige chimes in.

“Me either.” Peter agrees.

“Writer Lady isn’t mean like that.” Ray says.

“She is always a lady.” Diomedes adds.

“I agree.” Aunt Purdy says as she enters.

“A kind woman.” Mural Man says.

“She’s never hurt me.” House announces.

Furnatche, runs in with Dobby, Spots, and Smudge following close behind. The baby dragon jumps into Writer Lady's lap eager for attention.

Damon The Demon’s shadow fills the entry, the word “Good,” rumbles through the room.

“It’s just me?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Just you.”

“Hmm,” is the self-proclaimed mercenary’s only response. He thinks for a minute, looks at Writer Lady then back at Carp. “What can I do to change that?”

“You can start by talking to me instead of about me to other people.”

“Okay what?”

“You could help us find a solution without being a smart ass about it. That would be a good start.”

“Can we help too?” Dylan asks.

Writer Lady looks at the young boy, her eyes soften. “It’s pretty complicated but yes you can help.”

Carp looks at the rest of the group. “Writer Lady is working on making some changes to her website to try and get more visitors to her online accounts. I suggested we focus on her persona, a persona is how she wants to be seen online. For example, does she want to be seen as an exciting woman who always has amazing adventure stories to share or a beautiful woman who everyone loves and admires, a good friend to all or a mentor who teaches others how to be as amazing as she is. Something like that. What I need everyone to do is think about where their favorite places are to go online and who they find the most interesting. Look at Writer Lady and tell us what might draw more readers to her books.”

“I look at bright vibrant things. Things that show lots of imagination. Writer Lady has lots of imagination.” Aunt Purdy says. “All you have to do is look around this room to see that.”

“I see soldier men and gamers and kitties and dragons and a demon and a faerie and a house and…” Dylan says.

“Don’t forget Pirate and The Lady With The Long Golden Hair,” she has all kinds of magic.

“I like comedies.” House announces. “Nothing is funnier than the missing link.”

Tinkletoes waves at the ceiling, “Always nice to be acknowledged House.”

“Funny.” Damon says.

Dylan finds his way onto Writer Lady’s lap, the boy scoops the baby dragon into his arms cuddling it close. “I just like a good story. I know when I see Writer Lady I'll hear one.”

“How about Story Teller?” Dylan’s older brother Peter asks.

“Story telling encompasses, short stories, novels, television, film, streaming, poetry, and song. Even some columns.” Paige, Peter's twin sister points out. “Anything that can be written down is a story waiting to be told.”

“You do have a knack for that Mom.” Dobby Cat says.

Writer Lady looks at Carp. “Will story teller work?”

The retired romance novelist and assassin-in-training responds, “It’s you, we’re going to make it work.” Carp returns to the web page and makes a few adjustments. The words WRITER LADY: A STORYTELLER LIKE NO OTHER appear across the top of the screen.

"Are we done?" Tinkletoes asks.  

"Done." Writer Lady answers.

"It's about time."

Not That Innocent

 

“Your advice is going to be so much better.” House counters sarcastically.

“I have written over thirty books and have three RITAs so, yes, my advice would be better.” He looks at the ceiling. “Thanks for stepping in but you can go now.”

“Three RITAs big whoop.”

“Love you too House. Bye.” The assassin-in-training says before pulling up a chair and sitting down next to his protege. He focuses on the monitor in front of them. “I had the best people handling my website. What kind of budget are we looking at?”

“There wasn’t really room in the budget to hire a web designer.” Writer Lady says.

“You’re a professional.” Carp says.

Writer Lady does not respond.

“Did you get your MFA?” He asks.

She shakes her head. “I read and studied writing on my own time. Mostly I practiced.”

“A bit of a ‘do-it-yourself-er’ are you?”

Writer Lady makes a face. “I’m not the handiest woman, when it comes to writing related things so far, yes, I do most of it myself.”

Carp looks at the screen then at the wall above Writer Lady’s head, then turns his attention back to the computer screen. “No probs, I’m sure we can work with this. I see which provider you are going through, what package did you purchase?”

Writer Lady pales a bit.

“You didn’t take the free one did you? Please tell me you didn’t take the free one.”

“I didn’t take the free one.”

“Good girl.” Carp says with a smile, “What did you take?”

Writer Lady opens up a new tab and goes to her web hosting provider’s main page.

“You took the next one up.” Carp pales slightly. “I’m an optimist, always have been and I say we can work with this. We really aren’t ready to change anything yet anyway, I still need to decide who you’re going to be.”

Carp reaches out and takes command of the mouse, closing the current browser tab he returns to Writer Lady’s website and begins perusing the information that is already on it. He reads through three of her short stories and looks at a couple of blog posts. The retired romance writer pulls up her social media accounts and peruses them. Carp looks at Writer Lady and smiles. “I am going to make some changes on this website okay?”

“What kind of changes?”

“Color palette, font, a bit of art…”

“Okay. I’m only keeping it if I like it.”

“There would be no other reason to keep it unless you liked it.”

Writer Lady watches as Carp works. Carp turns to find her watching and covers the center of the screen with his hand. “Would you mind taking your attention away from what I’m doing?”

“How am I going to know if I like the changes if I don’t watch?”

“You will decide after I’m finished.”

Writer Lady makes a face.
“I know it sounds dramatic and unlike me but I love a big reveal.” Carp says. “It’ll be fun.”

Writer Lady sighs.

“Don’t you like surprises?” He asks.

“Not really.”

Carp looks Writer Lady in the eyes. “I know what I’m doing. This is going to look great and I really think you are going to love it will you humor me and just stop looking?”

“What should I be doing instead?”

“I don’t know. Just do it somewhere else.”

“This could go badly.” She says as she exits High Command.

 

 

 

***Thirty Minutes Later***

Carp guides Writer Lady back into High Command. The assassin-in-training is walking behind her using his hands to cover her eyes. “Forward, forward, keeeep going forward. Step to the left. Your other left. Forward, forward, forward. Sit and...look.” He says as he uncovers her eyes.

Writer Lady studies the new page. The color palette has been changed to yellow and white, the font simplified and enlarged one size. The art had been replaced with tasteful stock photos in monochromatic shades of a cheerful yellow.

“Ta-da! You my dear Writer Lady are officially an innocent.”

“I like everything you’ve done here but...an innocent? Won’t readers find it boring?”

“Innocents are great. Innocents are optimistic, cheerful, and open.”

“And naive.” Writer Lady points out.

“Naive is approachable and approachable means more readers.”

“More readers would be nice. I’m not sure it’s me.”

Tinkletoes walks in to the room. “Are you done yet? We need to get that ammunition tested before sundown.”

Carp looks at Writer Lady and grins. One corner of her mouth turns up in a smile. “I think we are. All Writer Lady needs to do now is acclimate to her new persona and she can do that without me.”

Tinkletoes leans in and looks the web page. “Is that it?” He asks.

“Yes. Our much loved Writer Lady is now an innocent to the world and destined to be much loved by everyone.”

“An innocent? Wouldn’t it be faster to put a bullseye on her back and send her into the woods during deer season?”

Carp makes a face at Tinkletoes. “It can’t be that bad, it’s only cyberspace.”

“She’s all sweet and nice here, an innocent as you call her and yellow, you used yellow.”

“Yellow as in spring flowers, sunshine, and smiling emojis.” Carp says. “Good things. Things people like.”

“Yellow only means one thing to me.” The self-proclaimed mercenary responds, “Coward, ‘sides, it isn’t true.” Tinkletoes looks at Writer Lady and nods in her direction. “That woman has a mean streak.”

“Only because you put it there.” She responds turning her back to the self-proclaimed mercenary.

“It would still make that,” He says pointing to the monitor, “a lie.”

Writer Lady turns to Carp, “He does have a point. Lying is something that does not sit well with me.”

“O-kay.” Carp says sitting down next to Writer Lady, “It looks like it’s time for round two.”