Chapter 2:

            At 3:00 P.M. the next day, Jamie was getting a snack when a series of sharp, agitated knocks on the apartment door caught her attention. Answering it, she saw a brawny man a couple of inches shorter than herself. He was in his early thirties, had a ruddy complexion, red hair, and a long-stubble beard. His clothes were streaked with mechanic’s grease, dirt, and sweat. His eyes were panicked and he was breathing heavily.

            “Can I help you?” Jamie asked.

            “Is Griswold here?” he asked gasping.

            “She’s getting ready,” Jamie replied. “Are you the client who called yesterday?”

            “Yeah.” he said.

            “Come on in,” Jamie said as she opened the door.

            As she ushered the guest in, he removed his shoes and Griswold joined them in the living room. She was dressed in a black double-breasted suit, black socks, a royal blue dress shirt, and a white necktie, and carried Tickler with her. Upon entering, Griswold bowed with a flourish. “I take it that you are Monsieur Bill MacCabe?” she asked while showing him to one of the chairs in front of her desk.

            “Yeah…” said Bill with a look of confusion on his face. “You’re Griswold?”

            “Yes,” Griswold replied.

             “Huh,” Bill replied as if snapping out of a trance. “I don’t why, but I thought you were a dude.” 

             Griswold shrugged her shoulders. “It happens.”

             After everyone took a seat, Griswold got out a notebook and pencil. “Now, if you’d do us the honor,” she said, “please tell us everything.”

            Bill, still quite worried, began. “I’ve been accused of murdering my ex-girlfriend, Rebecca Ivers. There’s a lot of evidence against me, people think I have a motive, and everything’s gone to hell!” Bill spoke rapidly, his eyes tearing up. He then began coughing and hyperventilating. 

            “Calm down, tiger,” Griswold said, handing Bill a brown paper bag from a stash in the piano bench. Bill breathed heavily into the bag while Jamie stared in disbelief. “We’re going to work this out, but we need you to calm down so you can tell us what happened,” Griswold said.

            Bill’s breathing slowed. “Right. Sorry,” he replied. “I’m just...really stressed.”

            “Understandable,” Griswold replied, slowly nodding her head. “Please continue.”

            “So,” Bill replied, “a few days ago, I was working at the auto repair shop in Portsmouth. I was minding my own business, when my boss asks me to come meet someone out front. I go and see three police officers standing next to their car. One came up and asked me if I was Bill MacCabe. I told him that I was and, the next thing I know, he’s arresting me for murdering Rebecca.”

            Griswold continued writing. “Okay,” she said. “Then what happened?”

            “Well, after they patted me down and took something from my pocket, they took me back to the police station to question me. When we got there, they asked me where I had been the previous night. I told them that I had been fishing out in Shawnee State Park with some friends at Turkey Creek Lake. They then asked when I had gotten there and headed home, and I said I had gotten there around 6:00 P.M. and left around 10:00 the same night.

            “One of the officers then explained the details of the case. Turns out, while me and my friends had been fishing, Rebecca had come down to the lake and had been suffocated in the mud. Her body had been left on the shore in Slate Hollow, but a necklace she was wearing was stolen.”

            “So, why did the police suspect you of murdering Rebecca?” asked Griswold.

            “Well,” said Bill. “I was at the scene when the crime happened. Also, there is video of me walking in the direction of the crime scene around the time Rebecca was murdered. Now, just to get this out of the way, I was just taking a piss in the bushes.”

            Griswold paused. “All right,” she said awkwardly. “Any other reasons?”

            “They also think I have a motive,” said Bill. “When I broke up with Rebecca, things got pretty ugly and we started shouting at each other. My next-door neighbors heard the racket and called the police, so they have that fight on record. Then there’s the fact that I do have a criminal history. I stole a couple of cars in my twenties.”

            “I see,” said Griswold. “Now, after the officer explained what had happened and why you were there, what happened next?”

            “Something terrible,” sighed Bill. “Another cop came in holding a necklace covered in dried mud and explained to me that Rebecca was wearing it on the night she was murdered. I looked at it and realized that I had seen it on her before. Then…then the lady explained to me that they found the necklace in my pocket when they patted me down.”

            “Well, that’s unfortunate,” replied Griswold. “What happened after that?”

            “Well, they told me a bunch of stuff, but I didn’t hear most of it. I was too busy thinking about what just happened to pay attention. Then they were taking me to a holding cell. When we passed by the front door, something took over me and I grabbed an officer’s keys. I ran out the entrance and stole the car that they had driven me in. Once I got far enough away, I ditched the car and hitchhiked to get to Cincinnati. I had heard rumors about you and thought you’d be my best shot at proving I’m innocent. Then I set up this appointment through Steve.”

            Griswold finished writing and asked, “You do know that running from the police is a crime, correct?”

            “Yeah,” replied Bill.

            “And that you’ll likely have to do some time for that after this investigation is over?”

            “Yeah, but I figured it was better to do a few months for running than to do life or worse for murder.”

            “Can I ask something?” Jamie interjected.

            “What’s that?” asked Bill.

            “I understand that your running away was a spur-of-the-moment thing,” she replied, “and I’m assuming that you wanted someone that you really trusted to solve the crime so you weren’t falsely convicted?”

            “Yeah,” replied Bill.

            “So, why didn’t you just call Griswold to meet you in jail and discuss things there?”

            “Yeah…about that,” said Griswold. “I’m not actually legally allowed to get involved in these cases. At least not since...the incident. So, I have all my clients meet me here in secret.”

            “What’s the incident?” Jamie asked nervously.

            “We’ll discuss it later. In the meantime, let’s get back to the case, as I have one more question for Bill. Did the police show you any pictures of the crime scene or the victim and, if so, did anything about the images seem out of the ordinary?”

            “Yeah. They showed me a picture of Rebecca’s body print in the mud. You could also see the print of her necklace below her chin print. Then they showed me a picture of her body. It was terrible,” he said, shaking his head. “It was bad enough to see that, but she also had this really nasty cut on the back of her neck.”

            Griswold’s eyes widened at Bill’s response. “Very interesting,” she said. She finished writing down a few notes, stood up, and declared, “I believe that we must now travel to the scene of the crime. Just let me and Jamie grab our bags and we shall be off to Portsmouth!” Griswold gave Jamie a nod and she went to get their suitcases.

            “I really hope this guy is innocent,” Jamie thought.

            “Hold on,” said Bill. “What am I supposed to do while you guys are down there?”

            “You can just hide out here until we’re done,” replied Griswold. At that, Jamie froze in her tracks with her mouth hanging open.

            Griswold turned to her. “Something the matter, Ms. Gallino?” she asked.

            Jamie put the luggage down and took Griswold by her arm. “Can I talk to you about something?” Pulling her aside, Jamie whispered, “What the hell are you doing?”

            “How do you mean?” Griswold asked.

            “You’re seriously going to let a wanted criminal stay in your apartment while we’re gone?”

            “Don’t worry, I’ve done this plenty of times before and it’s always worked itself out.”

            “You’ve done this before!?”

            “Yeah. What of it?”

            “Listen Griswold. I really need this job, but I don’t want to get arrested. You seem to know what you’re doing, but I wonder whether you’re...taking everything into consideration by letting Bill stay here. First of all, we don’t know this guy. He may be taking advantage of you. Second of all, even if he’s innocent, if the cops find him in your apartment, you and I will also be arrested for harboring a fugitive.”

            Griswold stared off into the distance for a moment. “Huh,” she said after a moment of silence. “You know, that never even crossed my mind. On second thought,” Griswold said turning back to Bill, “I believe it would be better if you came with Jamie and me to Portsmouth. You can hide out with us and perhaps you will be able to help us solve your case by answering any other questions that come up.”

            “Sure,” Bill replied. “Whatever you think is best.”

            Jamie sighed. “It isn’t perfect,” she thought, “but it’s better than her first idea.”

            “Now Jamie,” began Griswold, “if you’d take our luggage down and get Cheryl started up, I would greatly appreciate it.”

            “Cheryl?” Jamie asked.

            “My car that I use on missions. It’s a black Eagle Premier underneath a tan tarp.”

            With that, Jamie left the apartment and did as she was told, putting the luggage and tarp in the car’s trunk. Upon getting in the car and looking around its interior, she was quite intrigued. The back seat was cluttered with all sorts of random crap, including ropes, bungee cords, a couple of Swiss Army knives, various tools, a plastic container filled with decorative patches and badges from a number of Ohio police departments, and many rolls of duct tape. Moreover, the cupholder held an enormous pop cup filled with mud and covered with plastic wrap. There was also a plastic jar full of quarter-sized rocks on the floor of the passenger’s side.

            “More questions for later,” Jamie thought.

            She started the car and waited. A few minutes later, Bill and Griswold, now wearing a pair of black leather shoes to match her suit, came out and got in the car. Griswold took shotgun and Bill sat with the crap in the back.

            “Everything is settled,” declared Griswold as she clutched Tickler in her hands. “Off to Portsmouth we go!”

            With that, they began the drive and what would become the first of many misadventures.