Russell Church packed his sports bag with everything he figured he'd need for the weekend, assuring his hovering mother that he would be fine and promised to adhere to his meds and exercise routine. Doreen Church wrung her hands in a mixture of worry, pride and happiness for her son, it had been a long stressful journey through Russell's schooling but he had done what was necessary and aside from a few minor incidents along the way he'd managed extremely well.

The weekend celebration with his classmates was a reward he deserved and one his parents were pleased to see him enjoy. It meant a weekend fraught with concern for them but he was going to be in many more situations where they wouldn't be around and this was a very good opportunity to start. His condition had been a dark cloud over his years growing up and one that required constant monitoring. This was an opportunity for a little sunlight.

His initial diagnosis had been explained to the family by several specialists, summing it up as a form of hysteria resulting from a conflict between the social and ethical standards of an individual and an unsuccessfully repressed wish. Russell's parents claimed there was nothing of the sort going on but the specialists gave them examples of Russell's behaviour actually reproducing physical manifestations from morbid ideas presented to him.

The final consensus was that Russell suffered from a psychological disorder that could be treated by analytic psychotherapy, or psychoanalysis. If it became acute, tranquilizing medication may also be necessary.

The treatment took on a routine that both Russell and his family found by his doctors to be working satisfactorily and he was safely on his way to leading a moderately normal life. That was how permission for the weekend trip came about.

Russell hauled his bag down to the front door, relieved to hear the beep from the van picking him up, and after around of hugs and kisses, laced with more promises and anxious advice, he hurried down the front steps, waving goodbye confidently.

******

The celebration at the cottage began as planned with lots of laughter, noise, music, and on the Saturday night, blankets on the beach around a roaring bonfire with marshmallows roasting on driftwood sticks and plenty of beer. Russell didn't drink, nor did he have anyone special to enjoy the party with, his efforts at joining in were awkward at best since the others had partners. Adelaide Balfour was more accepting.

Aware that Russell was out of his depth, she made a small effort to include him and he latched onto her willingly. Russell's problem was that it was overly willing; he was interfering with her celebration and when she began heavier drinking and joining in on the drugs, Russell went off on his own to brood.

The visit from the local police was expected and everyone behaved properly while they were there, nodding politely at the words of authority. Several minutes of lecturing and some unwanted attention to the girls by one of the officers made things a little uncomfortable but nothing materialized before they finally left.

When a second visit occurred, several of the group were well into a mix of the beer and Oliver's generously dispensed cocaine and could only lie still on the blankets or sit cross-legged in the sand while one officer watched and the other did a cursory search. Again, a few of the girls, including Adelaide, who received a little extra attention, were subjected to more than was necessary in the way of questioning but as before, it amounted to nothing they could or would complain about, considering their situation.

When the fire finally died down to a steadily burning, small flame, the group dragged themselves heavily up to the cottage and found the most convenient sleeping arrangements for the night. It was Sunday morning when the police arrived again, this time with their Captain and the fire department. The students were hustled outside, blinking and dazed and separated while they were questioned one at a time about the body of the young woman discovered among the rocks below the cottage.

As the person responsible for the rental agreement, Oliver found himself sitting through a slightly more intense investigation. An Officer Williams, who seemed very interested in how the arrangement was made and what kind of dealings he'd had with the owner, conducted this. Something about the way the questions were asked and the lack of note taking made Oliver's antennae quiver and he kept his answers as short and simple as possible.

The deal he'd made with the woman who owned the cottage made him ultra cautious. His situation was serious but not fatal and the deal was far too lucrative to lose. He played the part of the concerned person responsible for the organizing of the weekend, innocent of how his fellow students comported themselves and certainly of anything to do with the death of Adelaide Balfour. So when the group had given their statements and were allowed to collect their things and leave, Oliver left a small package with a note in the pre discussed hiding place in the cottage and left as well.

The final year's celebration was over but the ramifications were just beginning.

******

Stella hurried through the market grabbing a few items and checking them out then she rushed out to the parking lot and into her Honda. Roger had just started watching a baseball game and she told him she needed a few things from the store, her information was greeted with a belch, a lift of a half full beer bottle and an admonition not to be all night. It was like living with her father only more dangerous.

The sun was just setting beyond the treed hills to the west and Garth's cruiser was still noticeable in the gathering shadows in the side yard of the empty auction barn. He looked up anxiously from the rear seat and waved. She guided her little Honda alongside his and joined him in the cruiser.

"I can't be too long. Roger is into his baseball but he's not asleep."

Garth reached across and pulled her to him, their mouths clamping eagerly together and hands groping feverishly.

"We gotta find another way, this is no good, Stel." He spread his legs so she could get at his belt and zipper.

"We have found another way, baby. That coke the kid left the first time was dynamite and for five hundred we bought enough to at least triple our expense." She grunted as the zipper stuck on a fold in the material. "Lift up a bit."

"I know but I mean like, in the meantime." He raised his hips on command.

"In the meantime we just keep our eyes on the near future, baby."

"That's another thing. I'm a little worried about this guy, Simmons nosing around..." He groaned as she finally found her way through his open pants. "It was bad enough when Theo started prying but I'm not up to- to- uuuh- to going that route again."

"Find a better market, Garth, and we won't have to stick around long enough to worry about it." Her concentration shifted to his roving hand and her breathing shortened to soft little huffs as it massaged her chest. "Oooh, baby..."

I have to be really careful about moving that stuff. If Smithy or John or, God forbid, Roger, ever got wind of what we were doing..."

"You mean this?"

His head tingled. "I mean all- oooh- all of it."

"How much have you sold?"

"Six hundred bucks and there's- aaah- there's about two thirds still left."

"That's more than the last time," she gasped, increasing her ministrations. "How much do we have in the pot, baby?"

"Around twenty-six thousand- uufff- ooooh-."

Stella leaned heavily into his hands. "I think we should take the money and go now, we could set up a similar scheme somewhere else... find another bank manager." Her words dribbled away in a groan of ecstasy and she wasn't sure he'd heard as she pulled his face to her chest. The cruiser began rocking as their intensity increased.

"We need a lot more, baby. I'll double the order... aaaah..."

"Doub—oh shit... where's the Kleenex?"

The sun was right down and the cars were both completely hidden in the shadow of the auction barn. Stella was repairing her makeup in the visor mirror while Garth stepped out to toss the Kleenex into the bushes. When he climbed back in they shared another hard kiss and promised to stay focused. Meanwhile, Stella insisted on taking a thousand from their stash and doubling their order from Oliver.