Chapter 15

O n the return trip to land, Kate had told Simon the little bit she knew about her newest case, which wasn't a whole lot. Now here she was, staring at the crime scene address on her phone. She shook her head, got into her car, and drove toward the scene itself, to get an idea of all the problems ahead of her in this one.

Simon hadn't asked too many questions and had basically left this subject alone, as he had just been happy to see her eat breakfast before taking off on the run again. She herself? Well… she somehow knew this case would be a whole lot more than she was expecting. Almost as if he understood that, her phone buzzed with his call. When she parked at the address, she answered. "What's the matter?"

"You tell me. I've had nothing but a feeling of disquiet ever since you left."

"That's probably because of the address I'm at," she began, and then let it hang there.

"Where?" he asked a bit impatiently. "Is it the Feldspar house again?"

"No… your building downtown."

"Shit," he muttered. "I should have come then."

"Why is that?" she asked in an odd tone. "You're not the owner—or are you?"

"No, not yet. Damn. "

"It's all right. I'll fill you in whenever I get a chance. Got to go." She disconnected, then walked up to the police officer, waiting at the entrance.

She didn't see any sign of Dr. Smidge. "Has the coroner's office been called?"

The cop nodded. "They're on their way."

She shrugged. "Yeah, everybody's pretty tired at the moment. We've had a lot of cases this week. I'm sure Dr. Smidge will be here in a bit." At that, she heard a call from behind her, and, sure enough, Smidge pulled his bag from the trunk of his car. She walked over to him. He stopped, then glared and asked, "Is this one yours?"

"Since I got called in on it," she said, with a laugh, "and maybe because of the location, I'll say yes."

"Right," he grumbled, with a stern stare. "You don't get any more free passes on this," he declared, shaking a finger at her.

She smirked because she obviously had no control over where people dumped bodies or where people ended up dying, but, as it was, she agreed with him. Enough of this place, enough of these bodies, enough of these deaths.

As she walked up to the building with him, Smidge asked, "What are the details?"

"No clue. I just got here myself." When he frowned at her in amazement, she nodded. "I was out on the boat."

He gave her a deep sigh. "Now, for that, I'm sorry.… You don't take enough time off as it is."

"I try. It just never seems to work out."

As they walked in, she led the way.

Smidge noted, "It's almost as if you know where you're going."

" Ya think ?" she quipped, followed by a laugh. "I was here earlier this week and found some documents that had Feldspar's name on it." At that, he frowned at her. She nodded. "I haven't yet been able to contact the issuing company that supposedly rented an office in this building and both created and had possession of those documents, all of which was some years ago," she explained, without looking back but leading them in.

"That's very suspicious in itself."

She smiled, yet shook her head. "Not really. The company went belly up at least ten years ago, if not more."

"Ah," Smidge muttered, "then that makes sense. This building has been empty for a long time, just from the looks of it." Smidge kept pace with her on the way up.

"Yes," she murmured. "Simon is considering buying it."

"Why would he want this dump?"

"Because he takes these dumps and returns them to their previous glory. It's his saving grace."

"The real question is, did it have any former glory?" he asked.

"Now that's a good question." She smiled, glancing back at him. "Maybe way back when, but it's definitely had a few tough years in the meantime."

" Ya think ?" Smidge looked around. "We have a ton of abandoned buildings all over Vancouver, but I agree that something is quite special about this one."

"There is," she stated, with a smile. "That's how Simon feels too."

"Good to know," Smidge noted, "but, in order to put a stop to this killer, Simon needs to deal with the entire city, so it doesn't become a dumping ground."

"It depends on who we've got here," she replied, "and it could be a junkie. "

"Would they have called you in for a junkie?"

"I sure as hell hope so, for unexplained deaths and unintended deaths."

"Exactly. I keep testing you," he admitted, with a sigh, "and you keep giving me the right answers. You're such a disappointment."

She burst out laughing. "You just want to be seen as a curmudgeon," she pointed out, "but the truth is, you're just a teddy bear."

He shot her a horrified look that had her laughing again. "Don't you dare tell anybody that."

"No, I won't," she said. "You give me timely information, and you might start holding out on me if I did tell everybody."

"I might," he agreed, with a nod, "and, if I ever did, you would know that you deserved it."

She would have laughed at that, but right in front of them was a pile of clothing that had seen better days. She walked closer, then bent down, so she could see the face of the victim, and sighed.

"What?"

"He's possibly related to one of my existing cases," she shared, "but I can't be sure until I get a better look at him. I'm pretty sure this is one of the other homeless guys I spoke to about Shawn, the same one who also gave me a description of the vehicle that had picked up Shawn."

At that, Dr. Smidge turned to her and nodded slowly. "At least they called the right person. Looks as if this is definitely your case."

"Seems so," she murmured, "and now all I need is for the best doctor in the city to give me the forensics on this guy. "

He sighed. "In that case, get the hell out of my way." And, with that, he got down to work.

She walked around the immediate area, then waited in the hallway, while forensics collected evidence. She knew they would find a lot here, what with the homeless traffic this building seemed to have. So fingerprints, boot and shoe prints would likely be found. Forensics would expect that and more.

This place had been abandoned for a long-enough time period that it would be full of forensics, and, in all likelihood, none of it would do her any good. Just knowing the time and resources that would be spent getting through all that miscellaneous and unrelated data made her wince.

While Smidge was still working, she left the building, searching for the other homeless guys she had seen and had spoken to earlier. Yet she saw no sign of anyone. She waited until a little later in the afternoon, when the body had been removed, to see if any of the other homeless guys had come back to the area. Outside of a few curiosity seekers, people she had seen earlier in the day, the surrounding area was still basically empty.

The local homeless community had all gotten the message to stay away now, with a second homeless person dead so soon. So nobody would be around the ghost building at all. She couldn't blame them for it. It was tough enough to see one of your friends get put down, but it was something else to lose two of them in the same week.

As she walked back up to the front of the Paragon building, she watched as the police officers canvassing the neighborhood just started to filter back here. She waited for them, but they all basically shook their heads.

"Nobody saw anything. "

She nodded. "The trouble is, with a deserted building, people expect to see it empty, and they expect to see homeless people gathered around it," she noted. "Therefore, the neighbors don't really see anything beyond that." As she turned to go back in, she stopped when she saw Simon approaching. He raised an eyebrow. She shared, "It was another one of the local homeless guys," she shared, "one of the two I spoke with about Shawn's death." When he stared at her wordlessly, she nodded. "Yes, you would not be wrong in thinking it could be connected."

"Wow." He stared up at the building. "Somebody is using her as a dumping ground, but why?"

"That's a very important part of it because he was dumped here, not at Feldspar."

He nodded. "And that could be for any number of reasons."

"It could be," she agreed, "but this won't be an easy one because nobody saw anything. Once again we have no cameras, no security, and, short of any of his friends being warned off or saying anything, I don't expect much will come up for us to go on."

"I suppose I can't go in, can I?"

"No, not only are you not the owner but the forensic team is still in there."

He snorted at that, giving her a headshake. "Nobody will help your case with the forensics in that place. They'll find way too much stuff, as too much time has passed, and way too many people have gone through the Paragon."

She nodded. "I know that, but we've still got to process it."

"Okay, I'll leave you to it." Yet he lingered, looked back, and added, "It's such a shame. It's almost as if she's there waiting for me to help out."

"Maybe she is," Kate replied, "and maybe somebody is sending a message."

He frowned at her and asked, "What possible message could that be?"

She stared at him for a long moment. "We use all manner of people for info gathering, including the homeless. They are like waitstaff at hotels and restaurants, where people don't see them and thus talk about all manner of stuff in front of them. So, if this homeless man's death is a message, you can bet I will figure it out eventually." This time as she looked around, she caught sight of one of the other homeless guys who she had spoken to earlier. "I'll be right back."

With that, she dashed across the street. When the homeless guy wearing the cap saw her, he froze, as if a deer in the headlights. She called out, "Hey, I just want to talk to you. You remember how we spoke before, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, and now Frankie's dead."

She winced. "How do you know that?"

"Because I saw him being taken away," he muttered.

"Did you see him in there?" When he hesitated, she added, "Please don't lie about it. Just tell me the truth, so we can find Frankie's killer and can clear you."

" Clear me ?" he asked in a shocked, gutted tone. "I didn't have nothing to do with it."

"That's why I need to clear you," she stated smoothly. "Look. I get it. You were probably there with him at the same time."

He nodded. "He had something to tell me, and it was really eating at him."

"Any idea who else he might have told?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, but he needed to make some money."

"Right, so what are the chances that he might have known who picked up Shawn?"

The older guy stared at her in shock, then slowly nodded. "He was always a little cagey about that. He kept saying that just because the guy picked him up, it didn't mean the driver of that truck had something to do with Shawn's death."

"We don't know for sure, but that vehicle was stolen." When the older guy frowned at her, she nodded. "Now two of your friends are gone. Please don't make any mistakes and be extra careful out here."

He frowned at her, as if she what she'd said was ludicrous. "Nobody's after me. I haven't done nothing."

"You think either of your buddies did something wrong? Something worth getting killed over?"

He hesitated and then shrugged. "I don't know."

"Right," she agreed, "and, because we don't know, let's just not have any more accidents, okay?"

"Are you really thinking it was an accident?"

"Hell no. Shawn and Frankie were murdered, and, for once, there is no doubt about it."

The older man swallowed hard and sighed. "We see the world in a very different way, but we expect to get that kind of response from a lot of other places, other people—angry punks, shop owners, people who want us to just disappear—but to be murdered specifically? That doesn't make any sense. Not unless some punk kid was on a mission to take out the homeless."

"Do you think it was some punk kid?" When he shrugged, she shook her head. "I don't either. So, if you know anything… even if it seems insignificant, please tell me , so I can put a stop to this before anybody else dies. The last thing I want is to come into one of these buildings and find out you were the next one."

"Shit no, that's not what I want either," he muttered, as he stared off into the distance.

"Is there a reason anybody would expect you to know anything?"

He swallowed, then shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Would Frankie or Shawn have mentioned anything about you to the wrong people?"

He stared at her. "I don't know anything."

"Good," she replied. "If you don't know anything, maybe the killer believes that too." Not that she believed it. Most of the time these murderers would kill just on an off chance of silencing a potential witness.

"It doesn't make any sense why they would have killed Shawn anyway," the older man shared, "or why he went up to that truck or why he was dumped at that house across town."

"Maybe not," Kate conceded, "but, once I figure it out, it will make sense, at least to the person behind this."

He sighed. "Does it always end up making sense?" he asked, with a hopeful note.

She hesitated. "Sometimes the motives and the reasons behind it all only make sense to the killer. But, once you realize how it makes sense to them and how their minds work"—she shrugged—"it's not always something easy for us to accept."

"I guess that's your way of saying no ."

She laughed. "It's not my way of saying no. It's my way of saying how it will make sense to the killer, just not necessarily in a way that we can understand. "

He pondered that. "Kind of like our problems too, huh ?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "Not everybody understands or accepts that homeless people have problems." She smiled at him in sorrow. "I'm sure lots of people think you're just lazy and don't want to hold down a job."

"Yeah, we get that a lot," he noted.

"Anybody in particular hassling you?"

"No," he stated, with a vehement nod. "We generally just move on, rather than get into any confrontation."

He was right to consider that, but she had no idea if he really did that in practice.

"Too many times confrontations end up really ugly." He stared back at the Paragon building, and then his shoulders slumped. "I think Frankie mentioned something about recognizing the guy."

"The guy who picked up Shawn?"

He nodded. "Frankie didn't recognize the truck, or at least I don't think he did, but I do think he recognized the driver."

"And yet you didn't?"

"Frankie, he knew the guy."

"How?"

"From a different time," he explained.

"So, Frankie told you that he knew the guy who picked up Shawn, and now Frankie's dead?" she asked, as she turned to look back at the front of the building, where Simon stood, waiting patiently.

"What about him?" asked the homeless guy, staring at Simon oddly. "Maybe he did it."

"No, he was looking to purchase the building."

"Maybe he did it to drop the value," he suggested, with a shrug. "It's nothing that hasn't been done before. "

She winced at the thought. "Maybe, but I highly doubt that's his problem."

"Maybe, but he's here a lot."

"Again he's trying to purchase the property," she murmured, not sure why she felt she needed to defend him. "He is just looking out for the property."

"Maybe," the older guy muttered, and then he groaned. "When Frankie told me that he recognized the driver, I didn't even think to warn Frankie about it."

"Of course not. Why would you?" she asked. "You didn't know the driver would be a problem."

"No, I didn't, but I should have. I should have looked out for Frankie. He wasn't the most brilliant of people."

"Would he have likely said something he shouldn't have to the guy?"

"Oh, yeah, particularly if it got him some money," the older guy stated, nodding his head to stress his point. "Out of all of us… Frankie's the one who had the biggest trouble with alcohol and drugs. Shawn was pretty clean most of the time, and he didn't do drugs, but Frankie?" The homeless guy just shrugged.

Kate frowned at this new information.

"Let's just say that, once Frankie got a little booze in him, it was really hard to get him to back off again."

"Of course," she replied in understanding. "That makes it pretty hard to help him."

"Sure does," the older guy muttered, "even if he wanted the help."

" Did he want the help?"

"Most of the time, yeah," the guy noted, staring off in the distance. "Yet, once he got into the booze again, not so much. In a way, this is not that surprising," he pointed out. " I worried I could lose any one of them on a daily basis." He stared around the street, shaking his head. "But I really didn't expect to lose Frankie anytime soon, and not so soon after Shawn."

"Shawn was a good guy?"

"Shawn was a good guy," he confirmed, turning to face her. "I mean, he didn't have any money, but he would always protect the newbies and tried to offer them some advice. Sometimes he would get the crap kicked out of him for his trouble, but he would always try again. He would always try to send them back home again, if he could, if they had family, if they had anybody who cared at all. He was real big on making sure you didn't waste an opportunity to go home, if that was a possibility at all."

"So, Shawn was a great guy."

"Yeah. I can't imagine what his family would say, if they even know about him."

"They do know," she confirmed. "I spoke to them this morning."

He looked at her and nodded. "I'm glad that he will be at rest now at least."

"Do you want to come into the station and give me a formal statement?"

"Hell no. Homeless guys don't seek out the cops. You may be okay, but what about the others there? Will they roust us out of here now that they are more aware of us?"

"How about going to a shelter for a while? Just until we catch this killer. I can recommend a couple, give you a ride there. Or do you have another place you can stay?"

"I'll take care of it." He turned to look at the Paragon, then sighed and sank onto the ground. "Shawn and now Frankie. It's such a waste, but Frankie just didn't have the same awareness of the value of life.… Now he never will." Moments later, he slowly got up, then turned and walked away.

She watched him leave, seeing the age in his footsteps and the shock and the sadness in the slump of his shoulders. Colder now, she walked back over to Simon. He raised an eyebrow, as she shook her head. "Not necessarily anything new to say," she shared, "but he did figure that Frankie was in there." She motioned with her head toward the Paragon building. "Frankie also knew the guy who had picked up Shawn."

"Well, shit."

"Yeah, I told this guy to be extra careful, just in case somebody thought he might know something too."

Simon nodded at that, as he stared off in the distance. "He's likely to be next."

"I told him that too, but he kept telling me how he doesn't know anything. I suspect he'll just disappear into the woodwork for a while."

Simon nodded. "And yet, if anybody even suspects that he might know something, we both know what is likely to happen to him."

"Exactly," she noted, with sorrow, "but I can't really do much about it. If he doesn't want to come in and talk to me, which he definitely does not," she stated, with half a smile, "I can't do much, except warn him to keep him safe."

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Simon asked, still staring in the direction that he'd disappeared.

"Hell no. If he changes locations, maybe. I highly doubt that Frankie knew anything, or at least not very much, but he might very well have recognized the driver who picked up Shawn, and that's probably what got them both killed. "

"It would only have gotten him killed if he'd had seen something and then had told somebody something," Simon noted.

"And that's the problem," she murmured. "Frankie absolutely shared something, and now he won't be talking to anybody anymore."

*

Simon walked into the Paragon building, Kate at his side. He knew he wouldn't be allowed very far, but he wanted to talk to her without any prying eyes. He bent his head toward her and asked, "Do you want me to go talk to him?" He nudged his head toward the front door that had just closed behind them.

"What good will that do?" she asked him cautiously.

He gave her a smile. "I do know lots of these guys."

She pondered that and then shrugged. "Feel free to talk to him, but, if you get any information, bring it to me."

"Of course," he agreed, with that cheerful smile.

She frowned at him. "Why would you want to talk to him?"

He looked at her for a long moment, wondering if he could tell her the truth. As her gaze narrowed, he realized he wouldn't be given an option. It would always be the truth or nothing with Kate. "Because I feel half responsible for these guys."

She shook her head. "Why the hell would you feel responsible for the homeless?"

He gestured with his arms to the building standing tall around them. "Because of her."

Kate pinched the bridge of her nose. "Is this one of those things that I have to really stretch to believe? "

He snorted. "Knowing what I deal with daily—and nightly—you shouldn't have to stretch to believe anything," he replied. "I get why you might, but it shouldn't have to be that way."

"Yeah, I agree," she grumbled, as she stared at him. "So how is it that you feel guilty?"

"Because they were staying here in this building, and I kind of put them on the street."

She shook her head. "Or is it because you talked to Shawn, and he told you about the Feldspar house?"

He pondered that and sighed. "I don't know. Yet I'm pretty sure Shawn in his spirit form was talking to me, or trying to. So, if a restless spirit out there is connected to me, then I want to help him cross." When her jaw dropped at that, he winced and added, "I get it. That's probably a little more woo-woo information than you wanted to know."

She glanced around to ensure they were alone, thankful to see that they were. She sighed.

"I've been doing a little bit of research into it."

She swallowed hard as she stared at him. "What possible research is there to look into?"

He gave her a wry look. "It's probably better if we discussed this at another time."

She didn't know what to say obviously, so just nodded for now. "I'm not sure I can make that compute.… The idea of spirits needing help crossing over and all that?" She shook her head in exasperation. "It's really not part of my world."

"Neither were psychic messages or warnings that you're in danger, or a lot of other such things, for that matter," he pointed out. "You've come a long way."

She shot him a look. "I didn't necessarily mean to come a long way. "

"No, of course not." He looked around and noted, "At least the realtor's gone."

"This place is not locked up, and she certainly doesn't need to be here. She's not the owner either."

"No, not unless she's been designated as the agent in charge, or has legal authority to handle this mess right here."

"I need to talk to the actual owner," Kate stated.

"I can get that information for you." Simon pulled out his phone. When she frowned at him, he shrugged. "Just part of my regular research when I look at purchasing a building."

She seemed to accept that at his word, but Simon knew it was more about taking in the information and walking away, so she didn't have to deal with the rest of it right now. He smiled at her. "We'll get through this, you know?"

She pulled out her phone and quickly took down the information on the Paragon's owner. "Does this affect your wish to purchase the property in any way?" she asked curiously.

He shook his head. "No, it doesn't affect me at all."

"It's already been suggested that the property price would drop now that we've have two murders connected to the place."

"And that means what? That I'll be more interested?" he asked, with a note of amusement. "Or that I may have had something to do with it in order to make the property price drop?"

She shrugged. "I'm sure you do have enemies out there. Somebody always wants to stir up trouble."

"If you say so," he replied, as he looked around. "However, no, it doesn't affect anything about it. I probably wouldn't buy it until I hit the price point that I want anyway. While these murders could help it get down there faster, I still wouldn't dive into the purchase without having it at the price and the terms that I want. So, no, it really isn't an issue." She nodded and didn't say anything more. He looked at her curiously. "Surely you don't think that?"

"No, of course not." She gave him a smile. "If you wanted the damn building bad enough, you would pay whatever you had to, and I can't imagine you particularly caring about the price point by then."

"Oh, I care about the money," he clarified, as he took in the building around him, his hands on his hips. "Yet I care a lot more about the building itself. It just doesn't always get me what I want."

"No, of course not, and you seem to have this big wish list of buildings, much like this one." She pointed at the walls. "You clearly saw something that I initially didn't. At first glance I just saw an old dump, but now it's growing on me, when I try to see what you see."

"I see something majestic and aging, but nobody else is willing to put in the time, money, or effort to helping her age gracefully or to give her the extra life she so rightly deserves."

"Most people would think that she doesn't deserve any extra life," she noted, eyeing him curiously.

"I know, and I get that makes me strange and a complete oddball to other developers," he admitted, "but there's plenty of room for all of us in this world." With a smile, he added, "And now I've got to head out and get some work done."

"And here I thought we would head back to the boat."

He froze in his tracks, then turned to face her, his eyebrows lifting in potential delight. "Do you think you'll make it? "

"Once I've done what I need to do here," she replied, with a smile, "I'll head back to the office, but, hey, I have to get sleep sometime."

"Then by all means come back to the boat," he offered. "I'll pick up some supplies, and we'll spend the night there."

"Did you ever find out if we're allowed to do that?" she asked. "I mean, is sleeping in the marina even an option?"

"I'm sure it is for a night or two," he replied, "but, if it bothers you that much, I can take a closer look at the rules and regulations."

"Yes, please. For all I know, we're supposed to pay for moorage or something."

He snorted at that. "Oh, I pay for moorage," he stated. "Don't you worry about that.… I pay a lot for moorage."

She frowned. "Oh, right. I hadn't even considered that you have to pay to keep your boat there anyway, don't you?"

"I sure do," he agreed cheerfully, "and you can bet I didn't get any discount."

"No, but you did get to pick your spot, right?"

"Yeah, I sure did, but why does that make a difference?"

"I don't know. Does it? Is that something people fight over?"

He laughed. "I suppose, but rest assured, I chose our moorage location based on what was available at the time, so no one was harmed by my choice. Though you would be surprised at how people respond when you take something that they consider to be theirs."

"Oh, I doubt I would be surprised at all. That seems to be one of the biggest problems these days, people thinking they have the right to take whatever they want, leaving everyone else behind."

He stared at her, then nodded. "Regardless, I'll see you back at the boat tonight."

"It could be late," she warned.

"Good," he said, giving her a look. "Then we can sit outside and enjoy the evening, with a glass of wine and a bite to eat, relaxing before we crash for the night."

She smiled as she whispered, "I would like that."

And, with that, he waved goodbye, then quickly headed outside. At the front steps, he stopped, turned to look back at the old building. "It's all right, sweetheart. We're working on it. I know it doesn't seem to be all right just now, but I'll get to the point that you want me to. It'll just take a little bit. Unfortunately it'll take longer now, while the police do their job."

Kate might not think that her department ever interfered, but in no way could Simon avoid shutdowns and delays when the police were involved. It was one of the reasons everybody absolutely hated finding something amiss on a jobsite because the police would shut things down. It all meant money, time, and effort wasted, as they waited in the wings for the cops to do whatever they needed before they could release them back to work again.

All too often, that took far longer than it ought to, but Simon was still responsible for keeping his people on the payroll, for keeping them employed. While waiting for the police to do their thing was inconvenient, expensive, and frustrating, Simon could hardly blame them for doing what they needed to do. He certainly had developed a lot more understanding since Kate had come into his life, but it was still hard at times.

Sometimes he just wanted to yell at the cops to get their jobs done so he could get back to work, but that was not the answer, particularly not if Kate was involved. He knew for a fact that her back would go up, and she would take ten times longer, just to prove that she could.

He laughed at that. Power plays were a part of life, and, although she would only do it if necessary to make the point, everybody would use them at one time or another. He understood and respected that. At least for him, it was less disruptive having the police shut down a particular project when involved in a crime scene. Simon never worked on just one rehab at a time. And, with the constant shortage of workers all over, Simon would just allocate his workers elsewhere in the interim.

He whistled as he headed in the same direction where the last remaining member of the homeless trio went. Simon had barely turned a corner when he saw the older guy standing there, as if waiting for him.

The older guy nodded, yet eyed him resentfully. "I figured it was you. I've seen you over there a couple times, and, for all I know, you are part of the murders."

"Considering two of your buddies have gone down in a very ugly way, you shouldn't be thinking that at all."

"How do I know that it wasn't you?" he asked, looking around nervously.

"I don't kill anybody to get what I want," he stated. "I'm the one who fixes buildings around here."

The older guy studied him. "You're the one looking at buying the place?" he asked, with a nod toward the Paragon property around the corner.

The homeless guy certainly didn't have any problem understanding which property he meant, and Simon nodded. "Yes."

And, with that, the homeless man tilted his head and frowned at Simon, as if he were crazy or something .

Simon could understand his confusion, as lots of people struggled with the idea, and this guy had more reasons than most to not understand Simon's motives.

The guy asked Simon, "But why?"

"Because I want to bring the building back to its former glory, yet in a new way."

"In other words, you want to drop it and put up some multibillion-dollar project. Then sell it, make your money back, and head off into the sunset, so you can retire in the Caribbean?"

Simon laughed. "No, that's not my style at all, and I'm not moving anywhere." He looked around and whispered, "You need to be careful."

"Yeah, why is that?" Suspicion once again filled the older man's tone.

"Because two of your friends have died," he replied carefully, "and we don't want anything happening to you. So what can I do to help you out right now?"