Frank and Callie walked hand-in-hand out of Bayport’s Baptist Church into the dusk’s light. He had called her to join him for service because he did not want to attend church alone since his family, save Joe, had all gone for the morning service. Maggie said she knocked at his door for a full minute but gave up when she thought she heard faint snoring and knew he was dead to the world. Though Callie had already attended the morning worship as well, she agreed without any reluctance on her part.

BBC was one of the oldest buildings in Bayport. A permanent fixture since 1910, it had gone through cycles of renovation and neglect, much like the congregation of youths, alternating between being lukewarm and zealous at various phases in their lives. Frank felt that he was already at a stage where faith was no longer something he was grappling with. To him, faith was already something etched into his mind, woven into his heart and inseparable from his soul. It was already part of who he was- something akin to breathing, thinking and feeling. Faith came naturally and he remembered a friend of his once telling him that once someone believed in God, there was no way to "unbelieve" even though, there were a thousand and one ways to fall into periods of lapses.

Leaving the red-brick building with the stained glass windows and a cross perched on the top of the triangular roof behind them, Frank and Callie waved farewell to many familiar faces- all youngsters unable to wake up in time for the morning services. He had parked his Mustang across the street in a public car-park because he knew the church’s meager lots were always fully occupied and even if they could get a space, getting out of the building after service was a chore as seas of people would just cut across the car-park, paying no heed to the cars. Not forgetting to mention being so squeezed for space, it was extremely difficult to maneuver out of the church’s car-park without some patience and no concept of time.

"So, what’s so important that you just have to see me?" Callie asked as she climbed into his car. He raked his hair with one hand while gently closing the door on her side with the other.

"Later." He answered and she shrugged. He got into the car himself, rolled down the windows and leaned back against the seat.

"Aren’t we going?" Callie was about to belt herself up but stopped after seeing that he had no intention of driving away immediately. Frank shook his head and gave her a waning smile.

"I’m just thinking about the things that we take for granted, that we are so wont to believe throughout our lives that when a different perspective is presented before our eyes, one that sounds truer, we just don’t know what to do."

Callie frowned at him before she rolled down her own window and adjusted the back of her seat to a more comfortable angle.

"I might as well make myself comfy. When you start philosophizing, I know we’re just going to be here until midnight." She groused, crossing her arms and pouting a little. Frank chuckled and laid a hand on her lap.

"You’re wrong. We’ll be here until the next morning."

"Then you can stay here yourself and philosophize to the moon for I will get hungry and walk out of here to forage for food. Then, I’ll go home and sleep."

"You’ll make such a fantastic, supportive wife." Frank kidded her and she smacked the hand on her lap before grasping it tightly.

"When I become your wife, I’ll make sure you’re in bed by ten."

"I’ll make sure I’m in bed by ten."

"Pervert!" She feigned revulsion with a high-pitched snobbish voice when, suddenly, she fell into a deep silence. Frank could see the humor peel away to reveal her shame and, out of instinctive protectiveness, he reached over to embrace her.

"Love you…" He murmured into her hair and stroked her back to assuage her guilt and felt her nodding from the movements of her head which was resting on his shoulder. Sniffling back tears, she held him tighter and he cursed the gearbox between them inwardly, hating it for hindering them from hugging each other as close they wanted to.

"So, what’s troubling you so much that you need to philosophize with someone who doesn’t appreciate such ramblings at all?" Callie muttered into his ear before kissing his cheek and then pulling herself out of the physically awkward but emotionally soothing embrace.

Gripping the steering wheel because he was a little unsure of what to do with his hands now that he was not hugging Callie, Frank hunched over and rested his chin on the circular helm, pulling his lips into tight line, trying to think of a way to put across his deductions without sounding like Judas Iscariot.

But you’re not. If Biff really killed Vanessa, then, friend or foe, you must expose the truth.

"Our main suspect is now Biff." The words came out in a more miserable tone than he intended or expected. He was looking out of the windscreen and up at the shifting clouds which were like wrinkled, smiling, wise cotton faces. They passed by the world insouciantly as if they had already seen and read into each man’s heart but found nothing really worth mentioning- that man’s troubles were actually very simple to solve yet he just had to make his own life complicated by thinking too much and then, letting paranoia and suspicions wear him down. That he was so full of himself with no room for love for others that he tripped over his own leg. Besides laughing at man’s antics, those sage clouds could hardly be bothered with the funny, self-destructive creatures scurrying about in their self-importance.

"Hmm… lemme guess. Joe’s the one who came up with it?" Callie spoke through tightly stretched lips, a stunt that made her tone more curt and cutting. Frank, still with his chin on the wheel, gave a hint of a nod. He could sense her eyes roll without even needing to look at her.

"He actually made some sense. I’ve been thinking of it too… and, it’s more plausible than a copycat of Jeremy Bret or an accomplice…" Frank heaved himself to an upright position before collapsing against the back of the seat, feeling extremely lazy and lethargic physically, though his mind churned and churned with incoherent thoughts that he had yet to process into manageable bits of information to work with.

Callie sighed and this time, it was she who placed a comforting hand on his lap. "Tell me about it. Maybe I can help you sort out whatever’s on your mind."

"It’s really very simple. A crime of passion. I don’t remember seeing him the entire time in the party, it’s just an assumption on my part… maybe he followed them to tree house and when Vanessa was alone, he went up to have a talk with her and when she refused to change her mind, he probably got rough with her and pushed her. She fell and in anger, he wanted to implicate Joe by… I don’t know. Was he wearing gloves that night?"

She shook her head. "I may not like his betrayal but I find it hard to believe in your argument, though, you’re right. It does sound very possible. And to answer your question, I can’t remember. It was pretty cold but it’s not winter yet. Not freezing enough for us to switch to Eskimo mode…"

"Maybe he had a pair in his pocket…" Frank suggested then frowned. That scenario would cause the crime to be much more cold-blooded than just a crime of passion.

"Then he must have somehow calculated that he would need to kill Ness…that doesn’t sound like Biff… that doesn’t sound like any one of us."

"I know… which brings me back to my first question. We are accustomed to believing things about the people close to us like, ‘My friends will never kill. My brother will never go mad. Those I love will never be capable of violence and crime’ but the fact is, Cal, everyone is capable of just snapping anytime."

"Like Joe?"

Frank crossed his hands behind his head, watched the purple and red hues that streaked across the sky, knowing in his heart that the pretty colors were actually fading away slowly with each passing minute to leave the sky a colorless void.

"I’m a little worried about him. But Callie, back to the case. I can’t just dismiss my deductions just like that when facts do fit into the explanation though loose-ends must still be tied or the knot must come undone to absolve him. And it’s not only him, it’s Phil as well, I … well… don’t know."

"Phil had the most severe crush on Ness." Callie shocked him with a truth he always suspected but could not ascertain. "Boys tell girls a lot of things. They think we are fantastic creatures to upload their innermost feelings on because their own species could offer no concrete solution or explanation for matters of the heart." She explained after throwing him a glance from the corner of her eye. His surprise at her intimate knowledge about a friend who was supposedly closer to him must have been advertised on his features with flashing bright neon lights.

"Joe asked me what to do. And I know what to do… but it… requires a lot of stealth and…"

"Frank Hardy, just tell me as it is." Callie shut him up and gave him a blunt stare. He felt his face blushing but decided that since his modus operandi throughout the years had never been exactly noble anyway, it would be no big deal to not mince his words for once.

Besides, you’re mincing that for your own benefit, not wanting to leave any bad impression on her. Sheesh! You’ve been with her for five years! She knows you’re not a saint.

"All right. I intend to break into his room and ransack his stuff for a missing cat-pin that belonged to Ness. So, I need you to lure him away. Ask him out for dinner or lunch as a friend and he won’t suspect a thing. That will give me some time to finish what I need to do."

Callie nodded. "Got it. And as for Phil?"

"I have no idea." Frank answered flippantly, almost singing the reply out. "I’m not an oracle or some all-intelligent being. Sometimes, I can’t multi-task all the time effectively. So let me concentrate on Biff, my thesis, essays, you and Joe for a while before we add Phil into the equation."

"Ok… so, am I still useful to you now that you have already delegated my assignment to me?"

Frank smiled at her, feeling it radiating in his eyes and it had been so long since he could smile like that. He imagined he must look exceptionally attractive then for she could not take her eyes off him.

Or maybe it is I who can’t take my eyes off her and she’s wondering why am I grinning like an idiot.

"Nope. You are still charged with the duty of accompanying me to dinner, letting me drive you home and then giving me a goodnight kiss on your patio so I drive back safely and sleep soundly through the night."

***

 

"Hello Shane… sorry to disturb you…but…is Joe there?" Frank had called Joe’s mobile the moment he left Callie’s side but all he had gotten was an automatic reply expressing its deepest sympathy that the subscriber’s mobile phone was not responding and then cheerfully asking him to try again.

"Erm… he kinda came back… but he’s not here…" The hesitant reply furrowed Frank’s brow and sapped away the buoyancy that his night with Callie had enthused in his heart. The cup of boiling water infused with the lightest fragrance of an exotic blend of tea leaves was overturned with that tentative reply which strongly suggested that Joe was up to his nonsense again.

All those talks. All that brotherly trust and love. All lies. He still had to go do something behind my back.

"Kinda came back?" Frank pulled up by the curb and coldly asked Shane whose anxiety shifted into the fifth gear as his swallowing became louder.

"Er… did I tell you what a nice and generous person you are? Thanks for saving our asses…"

"Shane, I’m a very reasonable man. I’m angry at Joe, not you. Can you please tell me where he is?" Frank stated his request monotonously and he could almost hear Shane’s mind grappling with indecision.

"I don’t like to rat…"

"You’re not ratting. You’re just telling me what he will naturally reveal if he’s sane!" Frank lost his patience and growled menacingly into the phone. The Mustang was freezing and he was halfway home but somehow, the news just made him lose interest in everything, including the short drive back. His mind went on a single bullet track- that was to find out where Joe went or at least know he was going to be all right.

"Ok… ok… he didn’t tell me anything… he just grabbed a haversack, threw some clothes in and passed me the eight-hundred bucks you loaned us. Then he said if Frank calls, don’t tell him anything and that he’d be back in a couple of days. I guess I’m a lousy liar. I can’t even begin to lie."

Back in a couple of days. At least he took his haversack, whatever that implies.

Frank’s cold anger faded to make place for the same, sickly fatigue that was terribly draining. It started sapping strength and resolve from the heart, and then, it exhausted the body of all vigor and it might not be long before his soul went into a state of apathy. In short, Frank did not care anymore.

No, I still do. Still care enough to express some gratitude.

"Thanks, Shane. I’m sorry for being what I was just now."

"An arrogant, overprotective butthead." Shane had no idea that he was pushing his luck; no idea just how close Frank’s hands were about to emerge from his phone receiver and strangle him because the only hindrance to that happening was technology. Frank clicked the mobile off, tired of everything. He called Joe’s mobile again and again and again. For twenty minutes he did nothing but speed-dial for his brother.

And he thought he got through once but the call disconnected immediately. A few seconds later, he received an SMS.

[Bro, I have something very important to do. I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. Don’t bother calling or messaging me. I will switch off my phone again after sending this. Thanks.]

He had no idea what Joe added in the "thanks" for. All he knew that sometimes, being his elder brother was an unjustifiable thankless job. Yet, Joe would be Joe. In his saner moments, he was hardly around to be accountable to his actions either. His spur-of-the-moments ideas translated into physical manifestations even before his brains processed the validity of their usefulness.

And most of the time, all they ever did, was to give Frank grief.