When Joe saw Al enter the banquet hall of Queensborough Community Centre with his mother, he had mixed feelings. It felt good to see him again; he recognized him right away, he'd barely changed; he'd gotten man-sized, and his dark hair had some grey in it, but his face was the same, as was his shrinking demeanor. 

At the same time, it felt surreal seeing him again, because he'd barely changed. Joe didn't have the same out of body experience seeing him as he'd had when he'd seen Sunny for the first time in over twenty years, because Sunny had looked so different with his turban and his beard that he'd almost been a completely new person, someone who'd looked like he'd grown and changed, who could be both a new friend and an old friend at the same time, with lots of new stories to tell; it also didn't hurt that he had a beautiful wife, who could serve as a fourth if they all went out together. Al, on the other hand, didn't arrive with a wife or girlfriend, and he looked so like the boy who'd moved away that he could have almost been frozen in time on Lawrence Street, and it unnerved Joe, because he didn't think he would be able to relate to him in any way other than in reminiscing about Lawrence Street. 

"Al," he said when he approached him.

"Joe," Al said, looking up at him with a mixture of awe and fear. "Holy shit."

They clasped hands, clapped each other's shoulders and did an awkward bro-hug. "Look at you!" Al said. "You played football in high school, right?"

"I did. Notre Dame in Vancouver. It's where all the Italians went."

Joe had only just accepted Al's friend request after Lauren had contacted Al with the details of Mrs. Anderson's memorial service and sent him her own friend request. This Facebook thing wasn't his cup of tea, and he barely checked it, so they hadn't exchanged any pleasantries yet. Now here he was, and Joe had no idea what to say to him.

"How about you?" Joe asked.

Al shrugged. "Oh, you know, I didn't."

"I'm not surprised, you were a bit of a squirt."

"I was always more of an intellectual anyway."

"Right, yeah, you work at the library."

Al nodded. "Yes, your wife tracked me down."

"Yeah."

Al shook his head in amazement. "Lauren. I can't believe it, you and Lauren."

"I know, right?"

"Actually, I suspected you had something for her."

"You did? I didn't," Joe lied. 

"Just before I moved away. Puberty, you know, it changed everything."

"Sure did."

"I can't believe it. You two somehow stayed together after the rest of us left."

Joe shrugged. "Yeah, well, Sunny didn't go too far."

Al looked to the left and right of Joe and asked, "Where is Lauren, by the way?"

"Around here somewhere, schmoozing, probably. I saw you first." He looked around the room. "I should see where the kids are... you know we have two?"

"I saw pictures of them on Lauren's Facebook page. You're very lucky."

"And you? Wife? Kids?"

"Nope, single, childless."

Joe's smile was starting to hurt from the effort he made to maintain it. He knew it would be like this. "So, Sunny should be coming, too. He's married to a real knockout. Two kids."

"Looks like I have some catching up to do," Al said, chuckling.

"Well," Joe said, spotting his kids, "excuse me a minute."

He took his leave with some relief. This reunion of the Lawrence Street Detective Club, engineered by Lauren and Sunny to occur at the memorial service for the woman who'd been the DiTomaso family's first friend in Canada, was already as awkward as he'd predicted, and Rachel still had to show up; who knew what awkwardness would ensue once Al laid eyes on her; Joe still remembered Al's massive crush on her when they were kids. 

He found Lauren with Naomi and Tosh tugging at her arms, pleading to escape this place full of adults. "Let me take them off your hands a while," he said. "Al's here, maybe you want to say hi."

"I do," she said, relieved. "Thank you. How is he?"

"Still smaller than I am. Still a nice guy, if a bit awkward."

"He's probably intimidated by you."

"Yeah, probably."

He took the kids out of the room for a while. It was a relief to escape the packed hall. He was a big man, and he needed a lot of space to move, and the kids needed to run, but he didn't want to go to that playground they'd spotted from the parking lot, because he'd never be able to corral them back to the hall in time to catch the rest of the memorial. He found the gymnasium and made them run laps while he breathed deeply, letting himself feel the open space. 

He hadn't seen his mom and dad in a while; they were in the banquet hall somewhere, schmoozing with other Queensborough residents who'd known and loved Mrs. Anderson. He knew he should probably keep an eye on his dad; since he'd gotten sick a few years ago, he wasn't too steady on his feet, and his memory wasn't the best. Those months he'd been in the hospital had been the darkest of Joe's life. He didn't know what he would do without his dad, nor did he know what Mom would do. She'd have to live with Johnny and his family, because there was no way she and Lauren would be able to share a house.

When he thought enough time had elapsed, he called the kids back and they re-entered the banquet hall. Being head and shoulders above everyone else in the room, he could spot Lauren, Sunny, Al, and now Rachel, in a group, and pulled the kids over to them.

Rachel looked awful. Joe was almost winded by the change in her. The wild child of Lawrence Street had ditched the soiled t-shirts and jean shorts for a pantsuit, but her face was drawn, her skin almost grey, her eyes haunted, her shoulders weighed down. Of all the friends, she'd changed the most, more than even Sunny, because, unlike Sunny, whose changes had been the result of a natural evolution in his life as a Sikh man, Rachel's had been like a steep fall. This was not the girl he'd grown up with, the one who'd eaten dirty carrots without a care, the one who'd run as if powered by the wind, the one who'd wrangled the rest of them into dubious money making ventures like the LSDC. This was a broken woman. He was almost afraid to bring Naomi and Tosh into her vicinity, worried that her despondency would infect them somehow, but he knew he had to make nice.

Just as he approached, he heard Rachel say, "Oh... been better. But you guys... wow, so surreal to see you all. And Joe?"

"Right here," Joe said, sidling up beside Sunny and patting down on his shoulder, which compressed him like a spring. "Tosh and Naomi, meet Mom's and my childhood friends, Rachel and Al. You've already met Sunny and his family."

Tosh burrowed his face deeper into his leg. Naomi said, "Hi. Where're Harpreet and Ajit?"

Sunny crouched down to their level and said, "Sorry Naomi, Harpreet has the flu today, so we decided to keep them at home so she didn't get you two sick."

Al met Rachel's eyes, and she smirked at him. They were already sharing something Joe couldn't interpret.

"Beautiful children," Rachel said.

"Thank you," Lauren said. "We think so, too."

Suddenly no one knew what to say, but soon they were distracted by a tapping on a microphone. They looked to a podium at the right side of the room, where a man in a suit was getting everyone's attention. Joe hadn't noticed, until now, the large metal urn sitting alone on a small table beside it. Mrs. Anderson was here, after all.

"Hi everybody," the man said. "I'm Rodney Maxwell, Mayor of New Westminster." A short round of polite applause. "I'd like to welcome you all to this memorial for Martha Anderson, who lived in Queensborough all of her one hundred and four years and, from the number of people gathered here, was a well-loved member of this community." Another round of applause.

Rachel caught sight of something behind Joe, and her eyes widened. Then her face crumpled, and before the mayor went on further with his remarks, she burst into sobs.

The mayor went on for a few seconds, but even he began to realize he was losing everyone's attention as they were turning to see who was mourning so loudly.

Joe, to his surprise, felt the urge to reach out and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She might have been older now and wearing different clothes, but she'd once been his good friend, and he felt sympathy for her grief. She was nearly doubled over with convulsions, covering her face with her hands, and he wondered why none of them were doing anything to help.

Finally, Lauren whispered something in her ear. She nodded, and all of them left the ballroom together. This was better. She could get it all out without having everyone looking at her, and the five of them could just be there, not needing to say anything, just absorbing this surreal moment of reunion.

Tosh and Naomi, not ones to miss an opportunity to play, took off running in the open meadow on which sat the community centre. Joe watched them, making sure he could still see them however far they went.

"Sorry," Rachel said, wiping her eyes. "Sorry, everyone. How embarrassing."

"It's okay to miss her," Lauren said.

"That's the thing, though," Rachel said. "I never stayed in touch with her after I left. My mom was back in my life and..."

"Yeah..." Al said, as if he knew exactly what she was talking about. "I think this is about more than Mrs. Anderson."

"Oh, you do, do you?" Rachel said bitterly, and Al flinched. Poor Al, already shoving his foot in his mouth. 

"How about this, guys," Lauren said. "How about Rachel doesn't have to say anything about her troubles. How about we're all just happy to see each other again." Lauren had only briefed him in general about what she'd discovered about Rachel in her attempts to track her down as a beneficiary of Mrs. Anderson's will, which Sunny's firm was administering. Apparently there'd been a scandal at Rachel's accounting firm that had gotten her fired. That might have been part of the reason she looked so haggard; unemployment was stressful.

"You're right," Sunny said. "No one gets singled out. We all have adversities to overcome. I do, however, need to give this to you, as per Martha Anderson's instructions." Sunny reached into his inside jacket pocket and drew out a business size envelope with her name on it. Rachel McWilliam.

"What is it?" she asked.

Sunny shrugged. "Only you are allowed to open it and find out. From the thinness of the envelope, however, I'd say it was a letter."

Rachel's face paled. "A letter from Mrs. Anderson?"

"Yes."

Rachel took it in pincered fingers and looked at it. She looked at her four old friends, who were looking at her expectantly.

"I can't read it right now," she said. "I'm sorry, I'm just not ready."

"That letter is for your eyes only," Sunny said. "You can read it whenever you like, and you don't have to tell us a single thing about what's in it. I do, however, need to get an answer from you about whether or not you will be executor of the will."

The rest of them gasped. "She wants you to be executor?" Lauren said. "You never told me that, Sunny."

"It wasn't relevant to your duty to find her," Sunny said stiffly.

"Peace, you two," Rachel said. "We're all friends again, remember? The point is you found me, and now you know why." She turned to Sunny. "Has anyone ever refused to be executor before?"

"Certainly. Usually, though, when a person or couple plans an estate, they ask their intended executor long in advance, so there's no shock when the time comes, but if a chosen executor refuses, we have a way of picking another."

Rachel sighed.

"Are you saying no, then?" Sunny prompted when she didn't speak for a minute.

"I don't know. It's just so out of the blue. I only just found out she died, and she wants me to do this even though we haven't spoken in ages."

"It is a big responsibility," Al said.

She shrugged. "Then again, it's not like I have anything else to do, as I'm sure you all know." She looked pointedly at them. "It might make a welcome distraction from my own problems."

"We'll help you, if you need it," Lauren said.

"I guess I'll see how much help I need, first," she said.

"She has some assets to liquidate and disburse to various beneficiaries," Sunny said. "And there's the house, of course."

"Oh, God, the house," she said.

And then, as if they all knew what she was thinking, they all said with her, "The dolls."

"So, if you're on board with being executor, and it seems you are, I'll get you a copy of the will, and give you all the documents we have," Sunny said. "Maybe this coming week?"

"Okay."

Rachel slipped the envelope into her purse. They were all silent for an uncomfortable moment.

Suddenly, Al said, "Like I was telling Sunny before, there was an article in the binder in there, among all the articles featuring Mrs. Anderson, that had us in it, getting that commendation from the City."

"The runaway kid?" Joe asked, surprising himself that he remembered.

"The ceremony was also here, wasn't it," Lauren said.

"My family was so proud of me," Sunny said. "Little Sikh boy does good deed."

"Me too," Lauren said. "Mom and Dad saw me as some kind of vindicator for their marriage. 'Look, look at the hero child we produced!'" She said this part with an announcer's voice. "They didn't realize that nobody cared anymore; even in the Seventies, they weren't that controversial."

"My dad got a standing ovation from his coworkers at the mill the next day," Joe said, chuckling. "He was so embarrassed."

"I don't think my dad appreciated the attention," Al said. "He was quite reserved. Remember Hunter and Duchess? They really were guard dogs. He didn't like people coming around."

"I was really scared of those Dobermans," Rachel said.

"They weren't warm and cuddly," Al said. "I don't blame you for being scared. I was a little, too, but they knew who the family was and who to protect, so they never did anything to me. When they died, we never got other pets, but when I moved out I got a cat. Much better suited to my personality." He looked sidelong at Rachel. "I remember your dad a little. He worked really hard to support the both of you. He must have been proud of you too."

Rachel's face crumpled again. "Yeah," she squeaked. "He was so proud. I miss him so much!"

Joe was startled. Her dad was dead? He remembered Henry McWilliam just as Al did. He'd loved her very much, and had worked day and night to support them, and yet it had never seemed to be enough. Joe's dad had carried him on the rent more than once.

To Joe's surprise, Al boldly stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't know he passed away."

She nodded into his chest.

"I know how you feel," he said. "My dad was an odd man, but I miss him too."

Al's dad was dead too? Were they already that old, that they were already losing their parents? Joe remembered again his dad's health scare, and how easily they could have lost him. If he'd been slower getting him to the hospital...

"You know the kid died, right?" Rachel said into Al's chest.

"Sorry?" Al said.

She stepped away from him, wiping her eyes and steeling herself to explain what she'd just said, it had been so out of the blue. 

"What did you say?" Lauren asked.

"The kid. The runaway kid. Danny Trybek, right?"

"I almost forgot his name," Sunny said. "Did you say he died?"

"Yeah," Rachel croaked. "My mom took great pleasure in telling me about it. I guess none of your parents said anything about it to you, did they. Didn't want to damage their precious children's image of themselves. Or maybe they just forgot."

"What do you mean?" Al asked. "How did he die?"

She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve like a child. "For us, the Case of the Runaway Kid ended with that commendation. Danny Trybek's father was arrested, yes, but Danny's mother was no saint either. She was an alcoholic, and when the authorities investigated the family situation after the arrest, they determined that she was in no condition to raise him on her own, and Danny was eventually seized by Social Services and placed in foster care. He was passed from one foster family to another, each of which neglected or abused him almost as bad as his father did, and by the time he aged out of foster care he had absolutely nowhere to go and no way to take care of himself. He quickly fell into homelessness, prostitution and drug abuse, and died of an overdose at the age of nineteen."

Joe was gobsmacked. His dad had never told him any of this, but then again he probably hadn't known.

"Huh. Wow," Al said, stepping away and running a hand through his hair. 

"How do you know all this, Rachel?" Lauren asked.

"I told you. My mom told me."

"How does she know?" Joe asked, desperate to hold on to this childhood legend of them saving a kid. "Maybe she made it all up."

"She was a social worker herself before she burned out. She made it her mission to spite my dad every chance she got. When he died I think he was relieved he was finally escaping her clutches. He never should have taken her back."

"Wait, I don't follow," Sunny said. "Those two statements were non sequiturs."

"Sorry, I lost track there," she said, shaking her head. "What I meant to say was, my dad was really proud of me for helping to turn in that asshole. He liked reading fantasy books and mystery books in his spare time, and he had a real fondness for heroes, especially heroes that everyone writes off in the beginning, like Frodo in Lord of the Rings, or Poirot in Agatha Christie's books; everyone dismisses him as an egg-headed dandy until he catches the crook. For him, his daughter couldn't have been a better example of the underdog hero in real life.

"Well, my mother had just come back into our lives back then, and she couldn't stand her daughter getting affection she felt she rightfully deserved for deigning to grace us with her presence again after eight years away. So, she stored the details of my accomplishment away in case she could use it against me later. And she did.

"She followed Danny's story. She wasn't his case worker, but she knew the woman who was. She tracked him until he died, and then she proudly sat my dad and me down and let us know just what the hero daughter had accomplished."

They all gaped at her.

"Wow, what a bitch!" Lauren said. "Forgive my saying so."

"You're not wrong," Rachel muttered.

Rachel turned her head to the left as if she'd seen something. Joe looked at where she was looking but saw nothing there. He wondered if there was maybe something wrong with her, mentally.

He thought about it on the way home, too, and concluded that they'd had a lucky escape when they'd left her at the parking lot. So, he was surprised when Lauren asked, after they got home, "Okay, what now?"

"What do you mean, what now?"

"Rachel's in a bad way. How do we help her?"

"Uh, did Rachel ask us for help?"

"No, not in so many words, but did you see her? That's not the Rachel we knew."

So, Lauren had seen it too, but still, Joe wasn't interested in involving himself in Rachel's troubles. "Lauren, honey, we just reunited with this woman. We haven't seen her in thirty years. We don't know what she's been up to or what her deal is."

"She was fired from her job as an accountant because she was framed by her client. She's not working right now, I'll bet. How is she making any money?"

"I don't know, is that really our business? And are we sure she was framed?"

He took a step back when he saw the look she gave him. It was a look of righteous fury he'd seen only once before, when they were thirteen; she'd just come running back from the Trybek house to tell them Rachel had been kidnapped by Mr. Trybek, and they'd saddled up to ride back to the house to free her. Notably, she'd had her sword in her hand at the time, and she wouldn't have looked out of place with it now.

"This is our friend," she said.

"This was our friend," he corrected.

"So... what? That's it? We never see her again? Never see Al or Sunny? We just go back to our normal lives and forget them all?"

"Well... Sunny's kind of around for work stuff, and our kids get along..."

"So, he only counts because he has kids? And maybe his wife is hot?"

Joe felt himself flush. "I never said that!"

"Yeah, but I bet you were thinking it."

He shook his head in disbelief, trying to come to terms with what she was saying. "So, really? You want Al and Rachel back in your life?"

"Honestly? Yes! I want my friends back! When I found Sunny again, by happy accident, I couldn't believe my luck! And I always wondered what it would be like to find Al and Rachel too!"

"I didn't know you were this passionate about it."

She sighed. "All I have is my work, my kids, you and your family."

Joe shrugged. "That's all I have too."

"But for you it's enough. You have your brother to hang out with, and I don't have a sibling. My friends in Queensborough were the closest thing I had to family back then, and now that I finally have them back in my life, I don't want to let them go."

When Lauren put it like that, how could he refuse her? He still remembered how emotional she'd been not having Rachel as her maid of honour. Now that Rachel was back, how could he expect Lauren to stay away?

He nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. I want you to be happy, and if reconnecting with them will make you happy, then I'm all for it. It was nice to see them again. Maybe I'm just a little afraid to open myself up to new friendships, get out of my comfort zone, you know?"

She walked up to him, stood on tiptoes, and Joe lifted her the rest of the way to kiss her on the lips. "I'm scared too," she conceded. "But you know what? I'm also excited! For the first time in years!"

"All right," he said. "The adventure begins. So. You want to help Rachel. What do you propose?"

"We get her unfired by proving she was framed."

"Um, okay, that might be hard. Anything else?"

"She needs to be working, and she's pretty much blackballed because of the allegations. Can we do something about that?"

"She's an accountant, you say?"

She nodded.

He scratched his chin. "Let me call Johnny. We might have some piece work. It might not be enough, but it's a start."

"Okay!" she said, excited now. "I'll talk to my colleagues at Justiciar, too, maybe we can rejig some things. And Sunny! Maybe his firm will have something!"

She began making calls right away, and Joe stared after her with that feeling he got when he rode on the Hellevator at Playland; waiting for the ride to shoot him a hundred feet into the air in the blink of an eye, hoping his neck wouldn't crick from the acceleration.

Thanks for reading this far! If you read the first two novels of this series, you'll know that I wrote this reunion scene through Al's, Rachel's, and Lauren's eyes. This, and their first meeting Lauren over the dead dog back in Queensborough, are two of the pivotal scenes that warrant examination through all the friends' point of view, to illustrate the differences in their motivations and their outlooks, and to explain the actions they take in later chapters. If you liked what you read so far, hit "Vote" and leave a comment. To get back to Rachel in the present day and how she reacted to Joe's phone call, click on "Continue reading."