Jonas stood in the entrance with his arms folded. "My lawyer is going to hear about this, and it is not going to go well for either of you."

"We found some new evidence we thought you might be interested in hearing first hand."

"What-?"

Jonas dropped his arms and backed away slightly, and the detectives took the opportunity to step inside, moving him even further back. Art assumed Jonas' posture with arms folded, as he stared at him, smiling.

"It's a new theory based on what we have discovered."

Gary began a stroll around the room, watched by a nervous Jonas, who couldn't think of what to say in response.

"It goes something like this. For some time now your business has been on shaky ground. Invested heavily in wobbly projects that were draining the company's finances." Art tilted his head, still smiling. "Reg Harrison, who was having his own problems with alcohol, was unable to help you through the bank, and after all the times you had helped him, posting bond for his DUIs, you were angry. When he suddenly got the boot and his wife kicked him out, you saw a glimmer of an idea."

Art's smile turned wry, pleased at the colour rising on Jonas' neck. Gary had stopped his stroll and was standing still in the middle of the room, eyes squinting and neck stretching.

"You took Reg in, coddled him, became his source of strength - his confessor."

"I don't see where this--" Jonas fumbled, staring at Gary.

"Reg told you why his drinking continued after his first arrest. He told you about Felicia having to do the driving, and how, on that Halloween night a year ago, she ran down a woman and her child and fled the scene. I knew I was right about that when I suggested it before." Art's voice had become shaky, and the words grated in the room's silence.

Jonas stepped backward, feeling for the chair and sat, glancing off the armrest. He stared at Art, tongue swiping over his dry lips.

"You saw a path to the needed money, and you ran down it. Wooing Felicia and convincing her that without Reg, you'd both have what you wanted. But it had to be perfect. No blame on either of you." Art moved to where Jonas sat. "We know it was you who killed Reggie, Mr. Wales."

"That- that's prepost--"

"Is it? Remember this? I showed you earlier?" Art took out the evidence bag with the cardboard, now shaped into a cone. There was a brief gasp and Jonas shrank back in the chair, face now pale under a sheen of sweat. "Makes a great ice cube, or better still, a murder weapon – one that couldn't be traced." Art jiggled the bag in his face. "And with Reggie gone, Felicia would get the insurance and the inheritance, which she would share so you could bail out your company, right? Of course, you didn't mention Crystal in the plan."

Jonas sat slumped, eyes fixed on the evidence bag. Gary came over and touched Art's arm.

"Smell anything, partner?"

Art looked at him, frowning. "What do you . . .?" He sniffed and his smile returned. He walked to the hallway and called out. "You can come out, Mrs. Harrison, your friend has told us everything."

"No!" Jonas suddenly came alive, jumping up from the chair. "No! Don't--" the words froze as Felicia came shakily down the hall, looking from one man to another. She stopped in the hall entrance and glared at Jonas.

"You bastard. You lied about everything."

"He didn't lie about wanting your money, Mrs. Harrison." Gary couldn't resist.

Jonas leaned toward her, fists clenched, eyes aflame and spittle spraying as he shouted. "You stupid, stupid bitch! All you had to do was take that away!" A trembling finger jabbed at the evidence bag. Felicia made a sudden move toward him, which Art blocked, then she turned and dashed for the kitchen, with Jonas in hot pursuit, catching both detectives off guard. She turned as he was coming through the doorway, and threw open the freezer door, slamming it right into his face. Jonas shrieked and fell back into Gary's arms.

Art ducked under the door and grabbed Felicia's wrist, trying to force the ice pick she'd pulled from her purse, out of her hand. "Let me go!" She screamed, kicking out at Art's shins. He stepped to the side, wincing at the pain, and lost his grip on her wrist. Felicia charged at Jonas, still supported by a stunned Gary, and landed on top of them. By the time Art reached the pile it had gone ominously still.

"Gary? Gary!" Art rolled Felicia off the top and choked back a gasp. Jonas was staring blindly at the ceiling, the shaft of the ice pick centred in his chest. Gary grunted and struggled to get out from underneath, panting as he sat to one side, looking at the bodies.

"Is she. . .?"

"No, I think she whacked his head with hers and knocked herself out – but he is." Art hauled his partner to his feet. "She had that in her purse. I think Mrs. Harrison had something like this in mind when she came here." They both stared down at Jonas. "Better call it in."

                                                       ❄❄❄❄❄

Art handed the report to the Captain and then stood at ease in front of the desk with Gary.

"We, uh, we made the deadline, Cap."

Dark eyes rose but the head didn't, and there was a soft grunt as the Captain studied the report.

"A little messy at the end, wouldn't you say?"

"Unavoidable, sir," Gary offered. "It was a spontaneous reaction that only took moments to—"

"Yeah, yeah, right." The pages flipped over. "So, she visited her husband that day and told him she was going to take him for every dime, and if he thought dragging up the accident would help him, she told him it was his word against hers and Wales', who would back her up in any court."

"Right." Art agreed. "They bet the threat would trigger his drink – and it did. She also told us that they both called him and reiterated the threat, to keep up the pressure. We logged their calls and they were made at the times stated."

"So that got him drinking himself into unconsciousness?" The Captain said, more to himself.

"Yep, and when Wales got home, all he had to do was get the icicle from the freezer, kill Harrison, flush the weapon and toss the pulled apart mould in the garbage."

"Why wouldn't he just shove it in his pocket and dump it elsewhere?" The Captain continued to read as he spoke.

"We have another theory about that, sir. No proof, but along with all the rest of the duplicity in this case, it's a good bet. Jonas confessed it was all wet with condensation, and he didn't want to carry it in his clothes. He took it apart and placed it in the garbage. We think Mrs. Harrison was supposed to sneak in after we left and get it for disposal.  We also think Wales was going to tip us off, and she would be caught red-handed."

This time the head came up and centred on Art. "You have two people who think they have committed the perfect crime and suddenly, one is going point a finger at the other, blowing up their whole plan? What a load of-" He made a disgusted snort and shook the file at him. "I'm damned glad you didn't put that in here."  After a moment he grunted and tapped a page. "This bit about the hit-and-run?"

Art glanced at Gary, his eyes widening. "Uh . . . that was a surprise and a shock to me, sir, but if you can believe in coincidence at all, this was a solid example."

"You're sure about that?" Doubtfully.

"Absolutely. I have solid proof – along with Mrs. Harrison's confession. On the following page, sir."

The pages flipped again, and the head nodded at the notes regarding a confession. "Right. Glad you have kicked that cloud over your head, Springer." He tossed the report on the desk, leaning back with hands laced over his stomach. Good job, both of you."

"Thank you sir, but it was all of us, sir. Detective Champion contributed as much as we did."

"I could tell that by the report presentation." He looked at them both, enquiringly. "An icicle . . . one for the books, eh?

"Scary thing is, it could have worked." Gary blurted, with an embarrassed chuckle.

"Yes . . . something I'll keep in mind." He waved them out.

Gary shut down his computer and closed up his desk. "That man scares the living crap outta me."

"Could have been worse. He shouldered a lot of flack from upstairs. Count yourself lucky."

"Speaking of lucky, I'm really glad you finally got all that accident business sorted, partner. Can I offer a small celebration at the Patio Bar? We'll get Grace and Angie and do it up right."

Art shut his desk drawer and sighed. "Maybe another time. Tonight I just want to sit and- and I'm not sure what, but I just want to sit – alone."

"Sure. Okay. Another time. You will be alright?"

"I'll be fine. Go and be with Angie and the kid."

He sat on the edge of the desk, staring at the floor. It's over Springer. A year and a few days, and it's all over. Who would have guessed. His eyes teared, and he gulped a long breath. Taking out his wallet, he flipped it open and ran a thumb over the photograph. "Miss you both like hell, Bev." He said aloud, letting his attention caress the photo. Another sigh and the wallet went away.

"Great job, Art." Grace strolled up to his desk and stood watching him. "And thank you for the mention in the report."

"You are part of the team, of course you would be in it."

"Well, I guess the paperwork is just as important as the investigation." She slipped one haunch onto the desk, and toyed with the stapler.

"Let's not get carried away." He grinned. "And actually, I have a bone to pick with you."

"Dinner again?" She held her tongue between her lips, smirking.

"Funny. You actually told Crawford about our Chinese meal at the diner? Not a smart move, Champion."

Grace stood, tugged her sweater down and folded her arms. "It actually was very smart, Detective Springer. That dinner finally got you out of that black mood you've shrouded yourself in for a year now. And I never told Gary everything. But he needed to know you let us in for the first time, because he's done nothing but come to me with all his concerns about you for the last year."

"You two discuss me – privately?" Art bristled.

"We're family, Art,"

Her words landed with a thump, and he recalled Gary's words. When he finally recovered, his face was flushed, and he could only murmur the word 'Thanks'. He knew what he'd been like, but it was his cross to bear, and he hadn't wanted sympathy.

"So, what do you say - dinner?"

"I probably owe you both more than that."

"Well, Gary isn't here, so you can double down on me, and include a drink." She nodded and grabbed her purse, starting out of the office.

Art watched her go for a minute, then laughed softly, following her out. A year was a long time . . . why the hell not.

END

Thank you any and all that may have given this their time. I can't say how much hearing the comments satisfies this old soul.