"What do you mean 'gone'" Henry and I were sitting in his car, parked a ways back from Karalyn's house. The clock on the dashboard read 10:38 PM.

        "I explained this, it's gone, vanished; inexplicably missing. No one knows where it is. Except for things like his stocks and investments, there should be about a quarter of a million dollars in savings, but there isn't even a fraction of that much left."

        "Damn."

        "My guy tells me the money was probably taken out a little bit at a time and hidden in another bank. He's trying to track it but it's not looking good." Henry was behind the wheel with his head resting in one hand, leaning on the window. "More importantly is what we're doing here."

        "Karalyn said she'd probably be at the repast most of the night."

        "So?"

        "So, if she's the murderer this could be my only chance to find some evidence."

       "Whoa there Sherlock, you want to break into her home? You think she just left a piece of paper on the dining room table that says 'Hey, I embezzled a bunch of money from my husband here's a detailed description of how I did it'?"

        "I've got to try."

        "Seriously Evie, this is crazy. It's against the law."

        "All I need you to do is wait here and alert me if anyone pulls into the driveway."

        "And how will I do that?"

        I reached into his pocket, the two of us struggling for control of his pants until he finally threw up his hands and let me roam freely. I sat what I was looking for on the dashboard in front of him.

        "Cell phone, duh."

        "I don't know about this, what if you get caught?"

        "I just won't get caught."

        I climbed out of the car and ran as quietly as possibly to the overcast gate. Using my sweet ninja moves I shimmed in-between the tight iron bars.  So far so good, here's hoping they don't have a motion sensitive porch light or guard dogs.

        I figured the front door was locked so I bypassed it and crept slowly along the cobblestone walk that led to the back of the house. The light from the pool in the backyard illuminated my way as I snuck toward the back porch.

        Taking a deep breath I reached for the door handle, and gave a tentative turn. Locked. Well what did I expect? Looking up at the manor, I could see that all the lights were off; the curtains in the windows closed. Karalyn had anticipated being out all night so she'd locked the house up good and tight.

        If there had been any justice in the world, someone would have forgotten to lock something, but from the lifeless look of the home, I could tell I was out of luck.

        I sighed to myself and started walking back toward the front gate. It was a stupid idea anyway. Breaking and entering, God what if I had gotten caught? As I was taking a walk of shame back up that cobblestone walk, my eyes caught the slightest disparity on the side of the house.

        Adjusting my eyes to the darkness, I squinted and made out the shape of a window. Only, unlike the other windows that were closed tight this window was faintly different. Someone had left it cracked. Just wide enough for my fingers to reach in and pry it open. Luckier still it was a window on the first floor.

        My heart picked up its tempo, fluttering in my chest at the prospects of what I was thinking of doing. I crept silently over, forcing my way through the short bushes that lined the side of the house, and gently laid my finger on the sill of the partly open window.

        My cell phone rang and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

        “Oh my God what? Is she coming?”

        “No, I just wanted to know what was taking so long.”

         “Don’t do that! God, I almost died when you called.”

         “Sorry. Are you in the house yet?”

         “Almost.”

         “I’m still voting we get the hell out of here.”

        “I’m close, Henry. I’ll only be in there five minutes. Call if you see her coming.”

         “But I don’t know what her car looks like-“  I hung up on him. If I talked to him any longer, I’d chicken out.

        Placing the phone in my pocket I quickly tried to pry the window open from my place on the ground outside. It slid open surprisingly easy and with one more cautious look around, I hoisted myself up and partially through the window.

        I say partially because gravity and my lack of physical competence were working against me. It took me three tries before I was in there good. I used the last of my strength to try pulling myself through the opening but my butt got caught and I had to turn somewhat and force the window the rest of the way open. In the dark I felt cold metal under my palms. I was right on top of the kitchen sink.

        Memo to self: If this detective thing works out as a  viable career, get supplies such as flashlights and lock pick thingies.

        Carefully I lowered myself to the ground and tried to adjust my eyes to the room. With my very human non-night vision I could just make out the outline of the counters and a table. I had only been in the kitchen once but if memory served the entrance to the hallway and that appalling pink room were to the left.

        Tired of the darkness I took a risk and turned on lights as I went. I found myself in a cocoon of pink, the light from a fuchsia lamp on a dangerously rickety pink end table. I’d almost knocked the whole thing over. If I were important files were would I be? Maybe an office of some kind?

       I searched the front rooms of the first floor until I finally hit an old style home office. It was a vision of warm mahogany that just screamed “important business done here”.

        I rushed inside and got busy going through drawers and file cabinets. There was a computer sitting on a desk, but I didn’t have time to wait for it to turn on or try to figure out a password if there was one so I left it alone.

        My search turned up nothing but the usual stuff you find in an office; business related shit that was of no interest to me. Henry was right; I’d wasted my time coming here.

        I retraced my steps, turning off the lights as I went. Back in the terrible pink room I was about to turn off the pink lamp when I got a look at the blonde bombshell standing next to Bo in an old photograph on the table.

        The woman was a stunning twenty something with gold colored locks and a rack that I’m sure could double as a floatation device if necessary. She was a total babe. Upon further inspection I could see that this was an old picture of Bo and Karalyn. This is about twenty years and 200 lbs ago. Whoa, what the hell happened to her?

        As I was mulling over the possible affects having a tool for a husband can do to such a pretty woman, my cell phone rang.

        “Dude Karalyn used to be a total hottie.”

        “They’re coming!”

        But it was too late; I heard the key unlocking the door and hastily turned the light off. In the darkness I heard fumbling then made out her shape as Karalyn walked into the room. I ducked behind the floral settee, hoping she was as bad as me when it came to night vision.

        Crawling on all fours I tried to stay as quiet as possible. Maybe if I didn’t move she’d go in the other room and I could slip out. That’s when my ears caught on to what my eyes couldn’t see. I held still and listened. The sounds of heavy breathing and light moans escaped into the air. Karalyn wasn’t alone. What’s worse is from the heated breathing and akward fumbling I could tell she and her beau were getting a little cozy. Crap.

        “I’m so glad it’s over.” She was saying in between winded kisses to the mystery man. “Now we can be together.”

        “Forever, baby.” Oh My God, I knew that voice! Just to be certain I snuck a peek over the back of the settee.

        Across the room sprawled out on the pink sofa I made out the shape of Karalyn, all 300 lbs of her entangled with the body of a man so thin and a head so big that I had no doubts who it was.

        That was Earl Owens alright, and I was willing to bet this affair with Karalyn had been going on long before Bo bit the big one.

        As I was connecting the dots in my brain on how this could possibly be related to the murder I heard the most terrifying sound of my life: a zipper was pulled down.

        Almost every fiber of my being was screaming at me to get out of there before things got more heated. But what if I could pick up some conversation that could prove she or he is the murderer? Could I really leave if I had the chance help clear Jackson’s name? And more importantly could I let Karalyn straddle a man who was three times smaller than her? She’d crush that pelvis! Clearly he didn’t realize he was in imminent danger. It was my civil responsibility, really, to stop this insanity.

        Then again, like my Grandma Sophie always says: “When bitches get frisky, it’s time to go home.”

        Heeding my very wise Grandmothers words, I started a slow crawl toward the front hall when to my horror; my leg got caught on that stupid rickety table. The fuchsia lamp came hurtling to the ground with a nerve shattering crash.

        And when Karalyn anxiously stood up and turned the lights on, I thought my world was about to come to an end.