Chapter 11: The Swindler’s Wife

Jake’s eyes fluttered open as he woke up. The bedroom mainly appeared dark with only a few slivers of moonlight shining inside. At once, he sensed he wasn’t alone. He asked who was there, then thought he sounded like an idiot for asking a possible intruder for their name.

“Happy belated birthday, Little Magnum!”

“We felt awful for not celebrating your big day last month.”

Jake blinked away sleepiness and surprise as he found Abigail LeClaire and Cheyanne Cudahy standing on each side of his bed. His golden-blonde crush wore a white silk robe, while her milk chocolate-haired friend wore a similar outfit in red. His sister’s two friends took hold of each of his hands to pull him out of bed.

“Yep, we’re super sorry for not recognizing that Little Magnum is officially a man now,” Cheyanne admitted, cupping Jake’s ass cheek through his pajama bottoms to squeeze him.

“So we wanted to make it up with your dream fantasy,” Abby revealed, pecking Jake’s cheek with a kiss.

“Um, what fantasy?” the shocked eighteen-year-old asked, fighting to ignore the burning sensation from his crush finally kissing him.

“Duh? The threesome that you blew with Trina and her slut roommate,” Cheyanne declared, dragging him toward his bedroom door.

“Wait: what? How do—”

“Shhh,” Abby shushed him with a finger to his lips. “We know everything.”

“And we’re about to make your fantasy cum true in a bigger and better way,” the brunette teased, leading Jake down the hallway to the guest bedroom.

“Bigger and better?” Jake repeated until Cheyanne kicked the door open to reveal that a huge California King had replaced the old queen-sized bed in the guest room. Whoa! How did they fit that monster into the bed…Hoy shit!

All thoughts about the impractical room setup went out the window once Jake saw Kari Quick and Brigid McKeon lying on the bed. The hyper caramel-haired summer waitress from Magnum's had on a royal blue babydoll nightie. At the same time, the busty, sexy redhead had stuffed her DD-cups into a black corset, accompanied by matching stockings.

“Aren’t they yummy?” Cheyanne asked, drawing Jake’s attention to her. The ever-flirty brunette had dropped her robe to reveal a red bra and panty set. “We figured you deserve more than a threesome for being the city’s champion.”

“We can never repay all our fine work, but we’ll wear ourselves out trying,” Abigail proclaimed, causing Jake to realize that her white robe had been replaced with pale yellow underwear. Both of his sister’s friends, standing next to him, had on silk, satiny, and frilly bras and panties, the kind Jake loved.

“We…will…let…you…ravage…us…anyway…anyhow…anywhere,” Cheyanne breathed huskily into her friend’s younger brother’s ear, sounding like a sexy devil standing on his shoulder.

Jake shivered from Cheyanne’s purred promise before he watched the two large-breasted beauties reach out to hold hands while they skipped over to the bed to join Kari and Brigid.

“A fivesome?!” Jake squealed once his brain caught up to the situation.

“Don’t undercount,” came the voice to his left.

The stunned, belated birthday boy felt his heart skip a beat as Sydney Capshaw slid into the spot that Abby had vacated. The dark-haired, deeply tanned lifeguard, his sister's best friend, wore a similar babydoll lingerie piece to Kari's, but in emerald green.

“A sixsome?!” Jake squealed.

“Silly-willy, seven is the luckiest number!” Zoe Foster giggled into Jake’s right ear.

Suddenly, Jake shuddered at the quirky, kooky pixie-cut brunette showing up in this dream moment. Jake tried to ignore the neon-green dominatrix outfit she flaunted.

“Don’t be weird, Jakey. Zoe’s the one who told us what we’re missing with this,” Syd said, grabbing Jake’s cock through his pajamas.

“He’s finger-licking awesome!” Zoe announced, licking her recent lover’s cheek.

At first, she issued a short lick before three longer licks followed until Zoe moved her tongue to Jake’s ear. Initially, she toyed with his ear playfully, with her tongue darting inside. The strange, tickling sensation caused Jake to giggle before the eccentric coed started to nibble on his earlobe lightly. However, Jake’s eyes widened in concern as she clamped down harder to tug his ear, almost as if in a game of tug-of-war.

“Hey, that kinda hurts. Zoe, stop that! Oww!”

The bark coming from Zoe almost didn’t surprise him; she was an odd young woman. It was the second bark that led Jake’s vision to change as the room brightened considerably, and he found himself standing not in the guest room but lying face-first on his bed.

“Woof!” Bandit sounded, point-blank in Jake’s face.

Out of nowhere, the once-sleeping teen felt somebody kick his butt.

“Get…your…ass…out…of…bed,” Phinn ordered, issuing a kick after every second word.

“The fuck, Phinn?” Jake roared, ignoring his bulldog’s increased barking as he rolled over in bed to a sight almost as strange as his dream. His best friend stood as high as the bed, but off to the side slightly.

Then, Phinn hopped down to the floor, allowing Jake to see that his oldest friend and investigative partner had pulled the desk chair over to the bed to allow him to kick Jake awake.

“You seriously pulled my chair–”

“I don’t care if you have horrible morning breath, need to piss like a racehorse, or want to get dressed. Get your butt outside now!” Phineas commanded, exiting the bedroom while Bandit jumped off the bed to follow.

“This is uncalled for…it’s ****…the Geneva Convention…” Jake trailed off after rushing to his door to yell after his tormentor.

“Don’t make me tell you twice!” Phinn roared, halfway down the stairs already. Bandit added several barks to the warning.

“Fucking jerk turns my own dog against me,” Jake muttered. Pissed from getting so rudely interrupted from his fantasy dream, he still stumbled down the stairs.

Reaching around the halfway point, he heard his mother complimenting Phinn for doing such a good job of waking up her sleepy son. That’s also when another door whipped up on the second floor.

“This is my final warning: That pest needs to be locked out of this house until a decent time every day. If not, heads will roll!” Liberty bellowed before slamming her bedroom door shut forcefully.

“Well, I’ll be. We might have to start hiring you for wake-up calls, Phinn. You managed to get both our Sleeping Beauties up,” Marvin chuckled with fake shock.

“Don’t forget Bandit,” Phinn reminded over his shoulder, walking toward the rear kitchen door.

“Oh, I’d never forget my little Bandie,” Justine cooed, squatting to pick up her favorite.

Entering the kitchen, Jake shook his head at his parents. His father looked even more tired than he felt as he sipped on a can of pop, while his mother sure didn’t sound like a bulldogish defense attorney as she hugged and kissed her bulldog.

“Why do you let him do these things to me?” Jake moaned.

“You’ll understand someday when you have kids,” Marvin responded, now outright laughing.

"Don't forget we won't be home until late," Justine called after her son as he walked out the door. Then, she addressed the squiggling dog in her arms. "Do you want to join the boys? Okay."

Bandit barely made it through the closing door with a triumphant bark.

His bark and Jake’s loud grumble caused Corky to look over from where he had helped set up the tables for Day Two of the Monroe Park Rummage Sale. Most of the tables had already been placed out on the driveway, as had the tent that covered the sections of the driveways closest to the two garages. With barely a care, Jake noticed the tables still appeared full of used items.

“Alright, where is that asshole? What in the world?” Jake’s anger turned to bewilderment within two seconds once he found Phinn.

The brains of Busybody, Inc. now seemed closer to Zoe Foster’s eccentric category rather than crime genius as he walked around his back lawn in circles. Occasionally, Phinn stopped, bent down, and flicked on a flashlight to study the grass or dirt before resuming his erratic behavior.

“Beats me. He was out here doing that when I arrived,” Corky revealed. “That was at seven.”

“I don’t understand—What? He was up before you got here? At seven in the morning, on a summer day?” Jake questioned, his bewilderment turning to worry. “Crap. Did he finally have a nervous breakdown?”

“No, I did not have a nervous breakdown,” Phinn yelled over. “I’m pissed off. You ignored six messages, three calls, and two voicemails last night. What girl did you abandon me for to get murdered?”

“I did?” Jake questioned, patting his pockets until realizing that he was still in his pajamas. “I was home all night.”

“Yes, you did! I found a masked psycho in my backyard last night, and my calls for help went ignored.”

“A masked…What?!” Jake questioned, now flabbergasted rather than worried.

“A masked psycho? Cool!” Corky exclaimed, forgetting the rummage sale setup to rush over toward Phinn’s backyard.

“Ah, did you find something, buddy? What do you smell?” Phinn inquired, talking to Bandit, who appeared to find a spot in the grass that he liked.

Wagging his whole body, the bulldog replied by lifting his hind leg to pee on the spot.

“Yeah, that’s about how the last eight hours have gone, buddy,” Phinn admitted, sighing.

“Hang on. What’s this about a masked psycho?” Jake repeated, as he and Corky came to a stop near Phinn and the peeing dog.

Phineas spent the next few minutes recounting his mysterious visitor from the previous night. Corky whistled while Jake started to fidget uncomfortably. Phinn attempted to put a stop to his best friend’s increasing fear by positioning him in the precise spot the watcher had stood.

“I don’t want to stand in his tracks!” the fearful teen shouted, jumping several feet to the side.

“Why not? I’m demonstrating how big the creep’s feet are,” Phinn explained.

“Whoa! They must be a size seventeen!” Corky announced.

“At least,” the brainy detective agreed. “What’s the issue, sellout?”

“You said it didn’t talk. What if it’s a ghost?”

“Holy shit! A ghost is stalking you?” Corky shrieked, but he also had an excited gleam in his eyes while staring at Phinn.

“No, it was not a friggin’ ghost. How many times do I need to show you that they don’t exist?” Phinn questioned.

Annoyed, the cynical detective continued his tale.

“Putnam has a crossbow?” Corky queried, suddenly appearing as concerned as Jake had been minutes prior. His mind raced through all the scenarios where his occasional bully used that ranged weapon on him.

“Don’t worry. I confiscated it,” Phinn assured. “Dusty had some wild ideas about how to use it as part of a booby trap.”

“You called Dusty?” Jake inquired.

“Well, you weren’t answering, and I did claim that I had rigged the whole house with booby traps, so I figured I’d talk to our trap expert while I crouched in wait for the creep to break into the house,” Phinn relayed. “Not that it did any good. We must have had eight separate message threads from shortly after midnight until four this morning. I swear, Dusty must have taken cat naps, woken up with another idea, and sent it over. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Any good booby trap ideas?” Jake asked.

“Not unless I want to explain bloodstains to my parents when they return,” Phinn noted, shaking his head. “Which might happen if this reject from The Strangers returns to do me in.”

“So this Masked Creep woke you up by throwing rocks at your bedroom window, and then he just stood down here and stared at you?”

“No, I was still up working on today’s interview with Veronica Strecker and exploring other people to also interview. He didn’t throw rocks. I saw the final round of pebbles hit the window,” Phinn told Jake.

“And you thought it was smart to open your window to talk to the creep?”

“What was I supposed to do? My lights were on with the blinds raised. The guy saw me at once. Hell, he might have been watching for a while and saw me moving around earlier,” Phinn explained. “And yes, I spoke to him. This was clearly an attempt to intimidate or frighten me.”

“I think it worked,” Jake stated. “I’m a bit scared.”

“Well, I’m not. That watcher might have looked creepy, but I wonder why he never spoke.”

“But he gestured at you?”

“Yes. He cocked his head at one point, and–”

“Like Michael Myers!” Corky exclaimed.

“Yeah, I guess,” Phinn agreed before mulling over the comparison. “Hmm, excellent call, Cormac. My first thought was The Strangers, but minus the clothesline and flapping clothes, his appearance bore a striking similarity to that scene early in the original Halloween.”

“So this guy intentionally or unintentionally copied that scene. Was he wearing Michael’s mask? You did say he had a mask on,” Jake pointed out.

“No, it looked more like one from a different slasher film–”

“Ghostface?” Corky interrupted.

“No, it was a pale yellow. I think it might have been the same mask from those Silent Strangle films,” Phinn speculated.

“Sonny Snyder,” Corky stated knowingly.

“What?”

“Sonny Snyder. He’s the slasher out for **** who returns to his hometown. It’s considered a Halloween knockoff from the 1980s,” the twelve-year-old explained to his mentor. “You haven’t watched any of the Silent Strangle series?”

“Well, I’m not that into slasher films,” Jake responded, feeling defensive because of their fan club president’s look of disbelief.

“It doesn’t have the requisite amount of eye candy to meet Jake’s needs, like Midkill,” Phinn joked. “Also, Jake’s superstitious enough without psycho killers entering his imagination.”

“You’d hate horror films, too, “ Jake told Corky. “Especially when your two best friends drag you into horror film situations.”

“Wow! I can’t wait until I get into those types of adventures,” Corky remarked, ignoring or not hearing Jake’s warnings. “A real-life masked killer. You’re so lucky, Phinn.”

“Lucky, my ass,” Jake muttered while his partner dug out his phone.

“See, here? I tried to slyly take a few shots when I first started talking to the creep,” Phinn relayed, holding out his phone. “They aren’t the greatest pictures.”

“Aren’t the…Phinn, they’re terrible! You barely got anything in the frame, and this one looks upside down and cut off,” Jake criticized.

“I’m sorry. Let’s see you even think of taking pictures when someone like this appears outside your bedroom window.”

“Hey now, that’s not funny. Don’t even suggest that. I don’t need this insane shit happening outside my window,” Jake declared. “Besides, my window faces the street.”

The conversation shifted to what might have happened before and after Phinn noticed the Masked Creep. The brainy sleuth recounted that he checked all the windows and doors for signs of **** entry when he got up this morning. Nothing appeared disturbed. The home-alone teen also never heard any noises after he holed himself up in his brother’s bedroom.

“Too bad we don’t have any of those doorbell cameras or any security cameras,” Jake remarked.

“The Nooks have a doorbell camera,” Corky recalled. “I bet it gets a decent view of the front of your house.”

“Yes, it might. However, unless Lance can quietly let us see it, his parents would immediately notify mine,” Phinn responded.

Then, the lead investigator paused. Deep in thought with the gears turning, Phinn walked over to where he found the faint traces of the footprints. Standing in them, he turned to check out his right-hand side. He surveyed the wooden fence and trees that separated his property from next door.

“The Rieses have security cameras. They even have the type that captures fairly good images at night,” Phinn recalled.

“Like night vision goggles?” Jake asked.

“No, they have the kind that brightens up the image,” Phinn clarified. “I know this because they accused Pug of breaking their Christmas decorations last winter.”

“Oh, right. Somebody attacked their manger display,” Jake remembered.

“Yes. Surprisingly, Pug wasn’t responsible. However, they did find footage of him sneaking into their backyard several times. Checking, they discovered a dug-up section near the rear corner of the shed. Of course, Pug denied any wrongdoing, but I suspect he buried items in that hole sometimes to hide them from my mom.”

“Yeah, I remember that. But it doesn’t help us. The Rieses hate you, and they’d never let me look at their footage,” Jake pointed out.

“No, they wouldn’t,” Phinn agreed as the final piece of the idea came to him. “Corky, how would you like to gain experience with breaching a location to extract valuable, if not vital, evidence?”

“You’re sending me on a mission? Really?”

“Phinn, don’t,” Jake hissed, jerking his friend away so that he could hold a whispered conversation. “You can’t have Corky break into the Rieses' house.”

“Why not? We do it all the time, and it’s better if he gets his first taste under your supervision.”

“My supervision? Hell, no—”

“Corky, are you ready to undertake this mission?” Phinn challenged.

“I am!”

“No, you’re not. We’re not having you commit a breaking and entering.”

“My plan doesn’t include breaking anything, just the entering part,” Phinn clarified.

“Phinn, we're not supposed to corrupt him. This is precisely what his mother is worried about,” Jake pointed out.

“Me? You and Dusty made him our official fan club president,” Phinn noted before turning to the wannabe sleuth. “This mission will require stealth skills. Can you do that, Cormac?”

“I’ll be like a ninja,” Corky promised.

“I have no doubt,’ Phinn replied, causing Jake to palm his face. “However, since it’s your first time, we’ll need a distraction. Something that will draw any of the Rieses out of their house that are home today.”

“Only Mrs. Riese is home. Mr. Riese is at work,” Corky reported.

“See? He’s already a junior Jake,” Phinn commented. “Alright, the Rieses never set up tables for the rummage sale. Those damn bible-thumpers dump all their crap at the church charity, so we’ll need to draw her out of the house in a hurry.”

“Why don’t we just wait for Mrs. Riese to do one of her regular neighborhood patrols?” Jake asked, already accepting that it would happen.

“No can do. She’d lock the door. We need her to hurry outside without doing so. Then, Corky will need time to find their computer, search for any video files, and transfer them to a flash drive.”

“That’s going to require some time. They also might have a password for their computer,” Jake pointed out.

“It’s probably a bible verse or some shit,” Phinn remarked.

“I know which ones that Mr. and Mrs. Riese like to quote from,” Corky revealed, causing Phinn to slap his shoulder.

“Wonderful. Now we just need a distraction,” Phinn noted. “Can you get any girls to come around here and fight over you? Mrs. Riese would definitely give a pair of young harlots a long lecture.”

“Me?”

“No, I’m talking to the twelve-year-old. Of course, I meant you, Jake,” Phinn responded, shaking his head while muttering.

“I can handle it,” Corky said.

“Really?” Jake asked, giving his semi-assistant a strange look.

“Yeah, I can get Pete and Eli to come over and start a fight.”

“Who?”

“Those are two of his closest friends,” Jake informed his clueless partner.

“Ah, great idea. Make sure that they swear a lot while fighting. Pug’s vulgar vocabulary tends to rile Mrs. Riese up,” Phinn noted. “Alright, you two can handle this while I go with Johanna to interview Mrs. Strecker.”

“Who’s going to run the sale?” Jake questioned. “I know Libby’s not going to be in the mood.”

“Right. Hmmm, I’d call Ethan or Galen, but I believe they have to work today,” Phinn recalled.

“And you have no other friends to ask a favor of,” Jake stated. “Whatever. I’ll call around to find somebody to come over.”

“I knew you’d come up with something,” Phinn praised. “Oh, Corky better make his break from the other side of their house. The Rieses might have a camera pointed at the Higginses, but we know they have a few pointed this way.”

---

“Rough night?”

“You don’t want to know,” Phinn replied. “Do I look that bad?”

“Pretty exhausted,” Johanna described shortly after Phinn got into her car.

“That sounds about right,” the tired teen said, but he didn’t elaborate on the reason. “Let’s hope this goes well.”

“I was also worried. That’s why I called Mrs. Strecker last night,” the influencer revealed.

“You what?! That’s not your decision to make. This is my and Jake’s case.”

“Relax. It felt like the polite thing to do, which you don’t know how to be,” Johanna shot back. “And I’m already involved in this investigation. So don’t try to push me out.”

“What did she say? If she’s not willing to speak to us, then showing up will only make it worse. It’s better to cold call on interview subjects.”

“Maybe that’s how you do things, but I’m going in as the host of Zay Time!, and I always set up appointments for my interviews. It’s the classy, intelligent way to conduct matters,” the chestnut-haired teen proclaimed. “Of course, she’s delighted to meet with me.”

“She better be,” Phinn replied sullenly.

They drove in silence for the rest of the way to Hardyhill Senior Living. Phinn knew where to park and which entrance to use from the time that his great-aunt lived in one of the apartments. However, he didn’t know which of the five large buildings Veronica Strecker lived in.

“She’s in Amity Hall,” Johanna insisted while Phinn checked the names on the mailboxes inside the small lobby of Pleasant Hall. Then, she noticed how he stared at one name. “What is it?”

“Maybe nothing, but I might have found a second person to interview. It’s from the list of Mimi von Essen’s friends that you found,” Phinn explained, already walking out of the building.

“Who is it?” Johanna asked. Hearing the name and Phinn’s reasoning, she nodded in acceptance of his plan to stop back after they spoke to Veronica.

“Did you say Amity Hall?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just seems like a strange name for a building. I mean, most people know that word mainly due to the horror films,” Phinn commented, having horror stories on his mind because of the creepy watcher.

“It fits in with the others. Everything around her is named Pleasant, Jolly, Happy, and so on,” Johanna rattled off.

“I know. My great-aunt lived in Pleasant Hall for several years,” Phinn revealed. “I just don’t recall hearing Amity before.”

With his past monthly trips to the complex, Phinn managed to find the correct building despite Johanna’s incorrect suggestions. With a smirk, he led them inside the small lobby to check for Mrs. Strecker or Ms. Barrett’s apartment number.

“It’s 311,” Johanna informed him, pushing the buzzer while he scanned the names on the mailboxes. “She told me last night.”

“Curious. She still goes by her married name,” Phinn remarked.

“So? Lots of women from that era did so after a **** or divorce.”

“But after your ex-husband rips off a lot of people?”

“Don’t go starting trouble, Farris. We’re here for information, not to offend an old woman,” the influencer reminded, causing Phinn to wonder if she forgot their real purpose.

Taking the elevator up to the third floor, they found Veronica Strecker waiting in her doorway. Walking down the hallway, they could hear her chatting with a neighbor, whom she informed that “One of those influencer people is stopping by to interview me about my days as Miss Paddle.”

“That sounds delightful, Ronnie!” the other woman exclaimed.

“Those were the fun, good old days,” the former beauty pageant winner replied, laughing.

Studying the former wife of an infamous local scammer, Phinn thought the skinny, gray-haired woman looked rather remarkable. Most women who dealt with a blackmailer and a husband like Dell would be haggard and overweight by this point. Instead, Veronica looked healthy and in good spirits.

“Oh, here she comes now,” Mrs. Strecker told her nosy neighbor. “Johanna?”

“Good morning, Mrs. Strecker. I’m Johanna Zay. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and thanks again for agreeing to this interview,” the chestnut brunette greeted, holding out a hand while turning on the charm. “This is my sound technician. Feel free to ignore him.”

“I guess it’s that time of year,” Veronica laughed, ignoring the offered hand to give the teenager a brief hug. Despite Johanna’s suggestion, she smiled politely at Phinn, who already appeared annoyed. “Come in, come in.”

“Do you often get interviewed before the new Miss Paddle contests?”

“Occasionally. I think the last one was about four years ago,” Veronica recalled, leading them down a short hallway into her nice but compact living quarters. She suggested sitting out on the balcony, as it received such wonderful sunlight at this time of the morning. “Reporters, new contestants, or locals looking for a laugh always want to hear about 1968.”

“Oh, they do?” Johanna asked, sitting down on one of the two seats in front of a small round table. That left Phinn to sit on a deck chair in a corner.

“They all do.” Veronica laughed, offering the two teens lemonade.

“Thank you, but none for him,” Johanna replied, stopping their host from offering Phinn any. “I understand that your year had some trouble.”

“Did we ever! I’m sorry to say that my feud with Bunny Casperson caused such a commotion that it led to the debacle of 1969.”

“Didn’t Bunny win that year?”

“She did, but she’d been fuming for a year about losing to me. That girl was spoiled rotten by her parents. Couldn’t handle anyone else getting attention,” Veronica gossiped. “I knew right away that the rumors about her were true. I mean, she made poor Polly Patterson cry.”

“Oh, no!” Johanna gasped. “Why?”

“Insulted Polly’s shoes,” Veronica divulged. “And Polly was such a sweetheart. Still, sometimes fairy tale **** can come true. Did you know that Polly ended up marrying Ted Tuckle? He was quite a catch back in those days. Handsome, financially set, and large where it counts. People worried that Bunny might show up to wreck the wedding. She’d had her sights on Ted since they went to Homecoming in high school.”

“That sounds like some fun drama,” Johanna remarked, causing Phinn to roll his eyes. “What did Bunny try with you?”

“I used to say this was off-the-record, but at this point, I’m seventy-six, so who cares. Bunny was what we only said in hushed whispers: a C-U-N-T. Forgive my French if you’re scandalized.”

“Not at all. I know plenty of girls that I’d call that or worse,” Johanna admitted, chuckling. “Being an influencer is like a never-ending pageant. There is one girl at South High who thinks she’s my rival and is always trying to show me up.”

“Honey, Bunny was the worst of the worst. You know how she stole the 1969 crown. Rules had to be changed because of her antics. Well, the year before, I thought she might yank the crown off my head. There we were, you had Cary Phillips as the master of ceremonies, and let me tell you, he was something special,” Veronica said, fanning her face.

“Wasn’t he a television host from Anchor Rock?” Johanna queried.

“Yes, he was. Hosted a talk show back then on Channel 5 for a few years. Most people wouldn’t recognize his name these days, but he was a big deal in this area. Handsome, charming, and the life of the party,’ Veronica recalled, smirking momentarily. Blinking away an old memory, the former beauty pageant winner continued. “Right, there we were just after Cary announced me as the new Miss Paddle, and Bunny is turning red with fury and jealousy. I mean, if you ever see the old clips, you can see her literally shaking. And once she stormed off the stage, everyone in the Odyssey Theater heard her howl of bloody ****. That screech lasted a solid thirty seconds.”

“Holy crap,” Johanna responded.

“Almost immediately, the whisper campaign started against my victory. I’m not bullcrapping you, young lady. Bunny’s minions began before we even left the building. Spewing and spreading lies about such absurd nonsense, such as I had breast enlargement surgery.”

“That was a thing back then?” the influencer asked, not sure when it started.

“Barely. You’d heard about it as some newfangled thing, but it wasn’t the rage as it would be in fifteen or twenty years. But my girls have been all-natural from the start, and they will be at my finish,” Veronica explained. “Bunny’s gossipers also claimed that my family somehow bought the win, which is crazy. I’m from a middle-class family, and she’s a Casperson. Then, worst of all came the innuendo.”

“What sort of innuendo?” the chestnut-haired teen asked, entranced by the old-time feud.

“Back in those days, proper young women didn’t say the things they do now. If you wanted to attack a rival’s reputation, you didn’t call them a whore or slut outright; you implied it. Comments about a woman’s lips looking puffy or chapped; her knees being scuffed, or her stockings wearing out at the shins,” Veronica explained.

“Bunny had her friends claim that you slept with people to land the crown?” Johanna asked.

“Oh, Miss Zay, Bunny didn’t have friends; she had minions. Many of them later learned the truth, but she manipulated people like nobody I’d ever seen before,” Veronica clarified. “And they didn’t suggest that I slept with the judges. Oh, no, I must have spread my legs and screwed every single one of them, and not just once.”

“Did you?” Phinn asked, finally speaking.

“Dammit, Farris!” Johanna screeched, staring bloody **** at him.

“Excuse you?” Veronica responded.

“I think it’s a fair question. Whether you slept with a judge or not to win could have been an early opening for a blackmailer,” Phinn stated.

“Blackmailer? Who said anything about a blackmailer?” the elderly woman demanded, paling slightly.

“That’s what we're here for,” Phinn revealed, handing over his phone to show Mrs. Strecker the picture they’d found.

“For fuck’s sake, Farris! Why would you do that?”

“At the rate you were going, we would’ve been here all day,” Phinn replied.

“I was getting around to it. You don’t need to be so blunt about this shit!”

“You’re part of this, too, Miss Zay? This whole interview was what? A ruse to try to **** me with an old photo?” Veronica asked.

“You don’t deny it’s you?” Phinn challenged.

“I’m too old to deny anything, but I’m also too poor and old to pay anymore,” Veronica declared, rising from her seat. “I’m also done with this conversation.”

“It’s not like that, Veronica. We’re–”

“We’re not here to **** you, Mrs. Strecker. We’re here to catch the blackmailer,” Phinn announced, startling the seventy-six-year-old.

“Y-You can’t be serious.”

“I am. We found this photograph several days ago. Yesterday, a similar picture with Mimi von Essen was left at my family’s rummage sale. I want to know two things. First, who’s leaving these pictures for us to find? Second, who’s the blackmailer?” Phinn stated.

“Who the hell are you kids?” Veronica asked, dropping back down into her seat.

“I’m really Johanna Zay, host of Zay Time!”

“I’m Phineas Farris. Together with Jake Magnum–”

“Why, you’re Phillippa’s nephew!” Veronica exclaimed.

“Grand-nephew to be precise. But, yes, I am.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so from the start?!” Veronica asked. “Everyone here talks about Phillippa’s nephew and his friend. Shit, you kids have been in the news several times over the last few weeks. We’d love to hear what really went down at that sex cult near Darlingport. The speculation around here is steamier than a Harlequin romance novel.”

“Yes, why didn’t we tell the truth from the beginning, Johanna?” Phinn inquired, smirking at his stunned classmate.

“The guy you want is named Avery Voyce. That’s the son of bitch who blackmailed me, and I hope you fry the bastard,” Veronica revealed, even stunning Phinn with the immediate name drop.

“You knew your blackmailer’s name?” Johanna managed to ask.

“Yeah, I knew him. The sleazy scumbag likely befriended most of his targets. I didn’t know about Mimi, but I’m not surprised. That poor girl. Such a fucking shame what she did to herself. But I can understand. Voyce would just squeeze you for money, and keep on squeezing.”

“Let’s start with when and how Avery Voyce started blackmailing you. Can you tell me about him?” Phinn began.

“I can’t say what he did exactly for a living. He probably lived off his extortions, but he owned several pieces of property around Edgewater. A few buildings in town and a few empty plots of land in the county. That’s how I came to know him,” Veronica explained.

“Through your husband?”

“Phineas, I met Dell through Avery. That damn bastard—well, both were bastards—was a regular around the beauty pageant scene. I know for certain that he had dirt on several girls who competed in Anchor Rock. I also know he blackmailed several acquaintances down here. Of course, I didn’t know this at the time of my ****. Nobody talked about it back then. I only learned after Dell was sent to Mug Jug and I moved to Blueview for almost two decades,” Veronica explained.

“Wait, so what happened to Voyce?” Phinn asked.

“I don’t know. I assume he moved away, as it sounded like he had people he fleeced around the region. I’m not sure why he stopped collecting from me, but I suspect that he learned the level of shady shit that Dell was into. My husband got involved with a rough-and-tumble crowd. When? I couldn’t say,” Veronica admitted. “As I mentioned, I was a middle-class girl from a normal family. I had no idea that men could be as ruthless and sleazy as I’d find out. You be warned, Miss Zay.”

“I’m well aware of their scumbaggery. You should see the comments and DMs I get on my social media accounts.”

“Good girl.” Veronica nodded.

“Okay, let’s get back to when this started. Avery Voyce began blackmailing you before you married your husband?” Phinn prodded.

“No, I met Avery after my victory in 1968. He wanted me to act as the hostess for the grand opening of one of his buildings after I won. I thought he looked slightly familiar from the pageant, and several judges vouched for him. After that, I’d run into him every few months or so until he introduced me to Dell. From that point on, we’d see him a little more often, but as I said, he’d travel often,” Veronica recounted. “We wed in 1971, and the **** started in 1974. I was a naive, good girl for most of my first two years of marriage. Although Dell opened my eyes to sex. It wasn’t until after I realized that I’d married a cheating bastard that I looked for fun outside of my vows.”

“Did this man set you up for Voyce?” Phinn asked, gesturing at his phone.

“No, that’s JJ. He was a young construction worker in one of the firms that Dell used. He wasn’t the sort. Actually, he freaked out and left when he learned about this picture. It’s not the only one that Avery had of me,” Veronica admitted. “The man who set me up was Eddie Lamarca.”

“The mobster,” Phinn acknowledged, nodding.

“I see you know your criminal history,” the elderly woman responded. “Yet again, I had no clue. I believed he was a high-level official at a construction company. I’m happy to say that he didn’t cause me to break my vows, but I’m also embarrassed to admit he was my second affair. He also helped Avery entrap me.”

“Could he be where the pictures have come from this last week?” Johanna inquired.

“Eddie Lamarca went missing in the late 1970s. Most people think he went to the bottom of the Atlantic wearing concrete boots,” Phinn divulged, causing his classmate to squirm in her seat.

“Did you pay Voyce personally or…”

“I’d get a different photograph every so often with a location to leave a payment. Often, it would be the same as the previous place unless a new address was listed. Outside of the first confrontation, Avery never acknowledged the **** whenever we crossed paths at social functions. He was too smart to admit anything where he could be overheard or recorded,” the **** victim explained.

“Was one of the drop-offs located on Lafayette Avenue?” Phinn queried.

“Yes, it was,” Veronica confirmed, referring to the general area. She also asked an unspoken question with her expression.

“Yes, that was in the instructions to Miss von Essen,” Phinn divulged before holding up his phone again. “Now, I don’t believe this is one of Voyce’s copies, not with the handwritten instructions on the back. So, tell me, Mrs. Strecker, how did your copy show up at my neighborhood’s rummage sale?”

“It was probably left by the person who hired the previous detective who investigated Avery Voyce.”

“There was another investigator?! When? What happened?” Johanna rattled off.

“He was found dead in an alley with a knife in his back,” Veronica revealed.