I had wondered how a news anchor could afford such a huge house and now I understood why. Bo was loaded. I needed to figure out who would get his money in case of death. All logic in me told me it was Karalyn, but you could never be sure.

        "Watson, I need you to look up something for me." I said into my cell phone.

        "What now?" Henry was a little upset with me because I had pretty much commandeered his car. Now he was stuck at home, something he hated because it meant he’d absolutely have to work on his novel.

        "I need you to find out who Bo's beneficiary is." I was at my apartment, carefully shrugging into a blue silk button down shirt. The t.v. was blaring silently in the background.

       "And just how the hell am I supposed to get that information? All that would be classified."

        "Don't you have a friend who does this kind of shit for a living?" Henry was friends with this creepy hacker guy who lived in his friend's basement and spent his life attached to the computer.

        "I don't know if he does that kind of thing. And anyway wouldn't that information be in a will or something?"

        "Somebody out there has to know, and it wouldn't hurt to ask." I was struggling into a pair of dark flared jeans.

        "Alright, I'll make the call but I can't promise anything. What are you doing?"

        "I'm heading over to Jackson's. He's been really down lately."

        "I'll bet."

        "I'm going to bring him some flour and eggs-oh shit!"

        "What?"I reached for my remote and turned the volume up. She was a little dolled up and looked much more distinguished but the face on my television unmistakable.

        "Allison Fleming is on Channel Five News." There at the anchor desk, Allison sat next to Bo's old co-anchor Sara Santiago.

        "Shit is right." Henry had turned his t.v. over to the news. "That her next to Sara? She's cute! Looks like she's got a major stick up her ass though."

        "Today she declined to tell me she replaced Bo as co-anchor."

        "You thinking she offed him to get his job? That's a stretch. She's just an intern, they probably only asked her cause they were in a tight spot."

         "Maybe." I listened as Sara Santiago introduced Allison as her temporary co-host during this tragic time. Too bad Allison had such a hard time actually looking tragic, girlfriend was practically glowing. "Listen I got to go."

        "Alright call you later, and be careful with my car."

        "Yeah, yeah." I hurriedly clicked off the t.v. then walked out into the night.

******************************

        Jackson lived with his mother in an old duplex on the Southside of Caledo in a neighborhood that housed the city's lower income families.

        I pulled my car in front of their duplex, noticing the police cruiser parked across the street. Aunt Jackie lived next to an old man who constantly complained of noise coming from the Reynolds home. The only problem was he'd gone deaf eleven years ago. I suspect he just likes the attention since his children barely visit him anymore.

        Aunt Jackie let me in, her eyes scanning the two paper grocery bags I carried in my arms.

        "Some stuff for Jackson." I explained.

        "Oh that's so nice of you Evie, we ran out of eggs three hours ago." She smiled. "He's in the kitchen, making a mess." Her face dropped and her features were darkened by age and worry. "He hasn't been sleeping. I'm worried." Her face was etched with wrinkles, some new and some old, but all mostly as a result of Jackson. She had three other children but none of them had caused her to lose more sleep than her youngest son.

        "Don't worry. Everything'll be fine. I promise." But even as I said it I knew things weren’t looking to good for my cousin. Manny was sure he'd found the culprit and I was sure he was barely checking any of the other leads I'd given him.

I walked in the kitchen and found Jackson furiously stirring batter. He looked up when I walked in.

        "Oh good, you're here." Almost every inch of the counters were covered with Jackson's culinary creations. "You brought eggs right?"

        "Yeah." I cleared a space of the table and got to work empting the bags. I'd stopped at the store and picked up flour, eggs, vanilla abstract, sugar, and a ton of other things to keep his mind preoccupied.

        He took a couple eggs and cracked them into his mixture, then picked up his stirring.

         "I'm losing my mind! The cops have been parked outside for two days." He paced around. "I'm fucked! I'm so fucked! I'm going back to prison and I didn't even do anything this time."

       I stood in front of him and pulled the bowl from his fingers. "Put the bowl down and breath." I ushered him to a chair. "I'm not letting you go back to jail for something you didn't even do. I’m gonna find this guy."

        "But what can you do? You're just one woman; I've got the entire police force trying to pin this shit on my ass." He trembled a little then looked at me. "I thought about using today."

        "Is that why you went on a baking fit?" I asked looking around. He'd baked enough cupcakes to feed the army.

        "Yeah. It feels a little better, but it's getting harder." He grabbed his bowl again. "I freaked when I ran out of eggs. I've been stirring this bowl since I called you."

        "Sweetie you have to relax."

        "Baking does relax me. You know it's like my anti-drug." He started pouring the batter into a cake tin. "I'm really losing my shit here."

        "I wanted to ask you a couple of questions."

        "About what?"

        "I've been looking into the murder. I think I'm getting closer to finding who really did it." Not particularly true but I needed to calm him down before he gave himself an ulcer.

        Hope glimmered in his eyes. "Really? You think you can find him? I'll tell you whatever you need to know."

        "Did you see anyone hovering around the kitchen that day?"

        "I was pretty busy and we were packed, nothing looked out of the ordinary." The restrooms were located a mere twenty feet from the door to the kitchen, so I had a feeling that anyone could have snuck in there when our backs were turned.

        "No one asked to go to the bathroom or see the kitchen?"

        "Not to me."

        "Is there anybody who'd want to frame you?"

        "Yeah, a bunch of guys from my old crew, since I turned them in for that plea bargain, but if they decided to punish me for that, they'd just show up and shot me. Poison is for bitches."

        Jackson was talking sense. The only people on Earth who’d want to hurt him were from his own old gang. The problem was that if they wanted to hurt him in any way they wouldn’t resort to something as underhanded and sneaky as poisoning.  And they do say that poison is a woman’s weapon.

        I stayed another hour and we talked while I watched him bake oatmeal cookies and a red velvet cake, and then said my goodbyes.

        Driving down east Pine Street, I tried going over my list of suspects but it didn’t feel like I was making any progress. I had to move faster if I was going to help Jackson. Number one on my suspect list was Allison. Her only benefit was revenge for mistreatment and a possible promotion. Could that really motivate her to murder her boss.

        But then what about Karalyn? Murder of a spouse for insurance purposes was classic movie shit. I didn't know too much about Brock, but I had a feeling he'd have a prime motive for killing Bo. I decided I'd track him down at the funeral tomorrow.

        I made a turn on Hennery Street and crept through the silent neighborhood. What the fuzzy?

         There was a man lying halfway in the street. Some drunken bum had passed out with his legs blocking part of the road. Someone's car was directly across from him, making it an impossibly tight squeeze to drive around him. He looked unconscious and I had trouble maneuvering the car around his body. Pissed off,  I rolled my window down with the intention at yelling at him as I drove by.

        But as I was leaning my head as close as I could to the passenger window, I realized with shock that I knew that bum. It was Johnny, laying stagnant with his head literally in the gutter. A bottle of some sort was clutched in his hand tucked in a brown paper bag. Of course I did the sensible thing and gunned it right by him. I couldn't face him after the way he'd chewed me out the other day, it was too embarrassing!

        Then again, could I really leave him knocked out on this side of town? I mean he was mean but it wasn't like he'd done me so wrong I wanted bodily harm to come to him. Begrudgingly I put the car in reverse and backed up until I was close enough for him to hear me.

        "Hey!" He didn't move. "Johnny!" Nothing. For a moment I panicked. Was I about to discover my second dead body in one week? But my worries were unfounded because the dirty drunk moaned and shifted, trying to find a softer spot to lay his face on the concrete.

        I sighed and put the car in park. I was going to have to help him into the car. Checking my surroundings to avoid a late night sneak attack I got out of the car, taking the keys, and quickly tried to pry Johnny's face from the asphalt.

        "Johnny get up." I put his arm around my shoulders and half dragged his heavy ass to the passenger side door.

        Memo to myself: go to gym and work on upper arm strength.

        "No." He muttered. He started trying to fight me so I halted and grabbed his face, pulling it close to my own and moving his shaggy hair out of his eyes so he could see me clearly.

        "It's okay, it's just me." He stared at me a minute trying to see through his inebriated haze.

        He moaned when recognition hit. "Oh God, it's you again. What are you doing?"

        "Well, since my conscious won't let me leave you here to get robbed and possibly run over, I'm trying to get you in my car." I opened the door. "It would be super helpful if you carried some of your weight."

        He nodded and tried to raise his body from the ground but stumbled. Impulse causing me to reach forward and catch his arms, sitting him in the car as slowly as I could considering he must have weighed twice as much as I did. I tried to take the bottle from him but he snatched it from my reach. "I'll hold on to this, girlie." He said and took a healthy swig of it.

        Great, because I didn't have enough addicts to worry about in my life.

        I walked around the car and crawled back in the driver's side and started it up, Grumplestiltskin fading in and out of consciousness the whole way.