Can You? (continue the story)

[SilentMute]

I read about this game in a Stephen King book and always wanted to try it. It is called [I]Can You?[I]. I'm going to start a story. I'm going to end it with a cliffhanger. The next person should continue where I left off and develop the story to another cliffhanger--which is taken up by someone else. If someone posts while you are on--then go ahead and put yours down. The next person can decide which one they like best and take it from there. So here goes:

Juno Phoenix was getting ready for an important appointment. She was supposed to meet Mr. Mann at a dingy cafe, where he agreed to give her the much needed information that would help her on her quest. She doubted "Mr. Mann" was his real name. She had no other way of contacting him, so she had to make this appointment. He made it clear he was putting himself in peril by talking to her--and he would not do it again.

However, the electric had went out--and so her electric alarm clock hadn't gone off. Fortunately, the couple fighting upstairs had woken her up. If she rushed, she could make it to the cafe. She was trying to put on her stockings, comb her hair, and hop over to her cell phone when it started to ring. Suddenly, she lost her balance and fell out the window!

"Well, "she grimaced as she got up slowly, "At least I landed on something soft. My cell phone is destroyed, I'm half dressed in the middle of a busy street--but nothing is broken. I guess I'm very lucky."

Suddenly, she heard the click of what sounded like a gun and a man's voice say in a French accent, "Oh, I beg to differ, mademoiselle. I would say you are very unlucky."

[soundofmusic]

Shock overwhelmed Juno to the core. Was she going to die right here, right now, with her holiest pair of stockings and the red thong her exboyfriend gave her! It was too, too horrible. Just then, she noticed that the man in the French accent was holding an empty pizza box and she was sitting on pepperoni. Juno didn't give another thought to her disgustingly soiled dress; she grabbed a bit of pepperoni from her backside and slung it into the Frenchmans eyes.

"Ah! It stings!" he cried out as she darted away down the street. As she turned the corner, she collided into a large burly man, knocking him to the ground.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed as she got up. He grasped her ankle and said, "Yes, you are going to be."

[SilentMute]

He was a policeman.

"I really am sorry, officer," Juno apologized, "I had an accident and I am really late for a very important appointment."

"Well, missy, be that as it may--you cannot run on busy sidewalk. Somebody could get hurt badly--including you."

"I promise I will walk the rest of the way, officer," Juno pleaded, "Can you give me a break and let me off with a warning?"

"Well, I would be willing normally, but there is another problem."

"What is that?" Juno asked, trying not to sound angry.

"You are indecently dressed."

Juno tried to explain, asked to be allowed to return to her apartment--but the policeman refused. An hour later--the important appointment missed--Juno found herself in a jail cell with a 300 pound call girl named Candy who talked incessantly about her eleven children and her toe fungi...and she was being leered at by a drunk in the other cell that had no teeth.

Suddenly, she noticed that all the policemen were agitated. The police chief was shouting at all of them to congregate in the war room.

"I wonder what is going on?"

"Probably out of donuts," Candy snickered.

Suddenly, there was a loud tearing sound. Before Juno could process it, a car had crashed though the double doors of the police station and ran into the cell. The police men were yelling, but the fender prevented the door of the war room from opening.

Candy, Juno, and the drunk stared in dumb astonishment as the car door open and a man stepped out.

[MANICHAEAN]

Tall, in his mid sixties, dressed in faded blue jeans and a white Gant cotton top, he looked around. A cold, restless, impotent desperation, concealed under a polite exterior and a good-natured smile.

Juno and Candy mused. A retired banker, a hit man in between hits, a failed priest? Such is the paucity of people's imaginations when given so few facts to grasp at.

What is that equipose existing in the ineluctable human chemistry that divides the sexes and that, as a result either attracts or repels as abhorrent one to/from the other?

The man looked at Juno, his glance brief but piercing and oppressive. It had the disturbing effect of an indescreet question and might have seemed audacious had it not been so calmly casual.

Juno was in her late thirties with a full bodied figure and a cleavage to die for. Her face, a face of a child rather than of a woman, seemed transparent, for so soft and clear was the skin. She kept her eyelids modestly lowered over her blue eyes; tremulous lids bent and suffused reply at his glance.

"You have me at a disadvantage Sir" Juno said.
"Who are you and what are your intentions?"

The toothless drunk reached for his concealed weapon.

[SilentMute]

But before the drunk could fire, he collapsed in his cell. At first, Juno thought he had passed out--but then blood started oozing from his head. That is when Juno realized that the stranger, with lightening reflexes, had shot the drunk.

He grasped Juno's arm and pulled her into the car, "Hurry! Get in! You are in danger!"

"Why did the drunk try to kill you?" Juno asked breathlessly.

"No idea!" the stranger said, "Never seen him before in my life! I find it disturbing that the cops didn't find the weapon when they patted him down."

"He smelled too bad, so they didn't bother," Candy said as she tried to climb over the broken cell door.

"Glad to know my tax dollars are put too good use, "the stranger muttered.

Juno wondered if she should get into the car with someone she didn't know, but on the other hand a ride would be nice...and she didn't have her purse, so she couldn't hail a cab.

"So, where do you want to go?" the man asked as he backed out of the police station and raced down the street.

"Who are you?" Juno asked, "How do you know that I am in danger?"

"You can call me John Doe. That really is my name, can you believe it? I didn't know you were in danger, I just read that is a good pick-up line to get a beautiful woman to notice you."

Juno looked at him skeptically.

He glanced at her, "Well, you did get into my car, didn't you?"

"Why did you crash into the police station?"

"Um...well, I really hate cops! I have an inoperable brain tumor that is going to kill me in three months...so I said, 'What the heck? Let's give it to the man!'"

Juno wasn't sure if she believed him, but he didn't seem to mean her harm, "Can you take me to the Dark Cafe?"

"Dark Cafe? I know a better place if you want refreshments. Cockroaches swim in the drinks at the Dark Cafe--it's filthy. It is only open because the owner bribes the health inspectors."

"I had an appointment there," Juno explained, "The man is probably gone by now, but I thought I would check."

"Can I be your chaperone?"

Juno hesitated. It was a private meeting...but having a man in the background may be useful--particularly since he had a car. Besides, she was attracted to her rescuer.

"If you don't mind waiting for me at the bar--and coming in a few minutes after me so it doesn't look like we are together."

"Same thing my mom used to say to me!"

"I don't mean to be rude, but it is a private meeting--and the man may be uncooperative if he sees you with me."

"Understood."

Fifteen minutes later Juno found herself in the cafe. She asked the waiter if Mr. Mann had left, and he directed her to a dark booth in the dimmest corner. She couldn't believe her luck.

"Mr. Mann, I am so sorry I am late!" Juno whispered, "I have had the worst luck today, you wouldn't believe! Thank you for waiting for me."

The figure did not respond.

"Mr. Mann?" she touched his shoulder, and the figure fell flat faced onto the table. That is when she noticed the dark stain on the back of the booth. When she touched it, it was wet. When she looked at her hand, she saw blood.

She looked around. John Doe had entered and was looking at the television at a soccer match. Nobody else seemed aware that there was a dead body in the booth.

[MANICHAEAN]

It is said that the love of a savage girl is little better than that of a well-born lady.The ignorance and simplicity of the one are as boring as the coquetry of the other. And yet there is no penance due to innocence.

Thus for John Doe the relationship that evolved out of his car executing a kami kazi manoeuvre on the local cop shop took hold, wheras for Juno the concept of compassion - that emotion which all women so easily yield to - sunk its claws into her inexperienced heart.

At this moment, the seemingly lifeless body of Mann stirred. Lips stained in blood, strained to express a message.

[SilentMute]

"Who did this to you?" Juno asked.

Mr. Mann tried to reply, but all he did was make gagging noises. Juno stood paralyzed, not knowing what to do. When a person watches murder mystery shows, they always wonder why the accused--if they were innocent--didn't behave in the appropriate manner. The fact that they didn't do the right thing is what makes people believe they are guilty of a heinous act. However, when a person is actually faced with a situation, sometimes the appropriate action just does not occur to them.

Juno had known what to do when her grandfather had a stroke, because while it was a surprise--people having strokes is common enough. However, standing besides a man who was bleeding to death in a booth while the patrons of the cafe watched a soccer match, Juno did not think to call for an ambulance.

Mr. Mann tried to speak, blood spewing from his mouth.

"Maybe I should get you a glass a water, "Juno said numbly, as if this would fix everything.

Mr. Mann's eyes widened, he gasped--and then his body did one long exhale before collapsing. Juno touched his shoulder, then felt his pulse. She could feel none.

Her first instinct was to flee, but someone had killed Mr. Mann. That means possibly she was in danger as well. Plus, she still hoped to somehow get the information he was going to give her. It was vital.

She tiptoed to John Doe and gestured to him to meet in a private corner. He smiled as she raised on tiptoes to whisper into his ear, thinking she was going to whisper something romantic or provocative.

"Someone has killed Mr. Mann. I need you to help me smuggle his body out of the cafe."

John Doe looked at her, flabbergasted, color draining out of his face. He was wondering what he had gotten himself into. This would teach him to run his car into police stations and pick up beautiful but trouble-prone women!

"Shouldn't we call an ambulance?" he whispered back.

"It's too late for that!"

"Shouldn't we call the police then?"

"You mean the police--the ones that you ran your car into their station, freed two prisoners, shot another, and sped away...and now you are at a cafe with another man who has been murdered. Yeah, somehow I don't think they are going to believe we are innocent!"

"Well, let's just leave then!"

"I want to search him for clues. He was supposed to give me vital information. If I can learn who he is, maybe I can learn the information I need and why he was killed. I may be in danger."

"What are you involved in?"

"I don't have time to get into that right now!"

Beautiful she may be, but John was tempted to ditch this broad. Things were not going the way he had planned. Still, he had gotten into this situation of his own free will...and it was unlikely he could just walk away now. Besides, it was kind of exciting--and after living a life he was not proud of, at least he was living a life that was exciting. He was a man where consequences no longer mattered.

"They will see the blood if we take him out the front door, "John said, his mind become clear and practical, "We need to search him here."

"We can't do it in front of the others! For all we know, one of them killed him!"

"Let's take him into the restroom. We can do it there."

They went over to the body. John lifted Mr. Mann up, and Juno took the other arm. When the waiter looked over, John smiled, "Our friend here is feeling a little sick."

"Well, the restrooms are in back. Don't let him throw up on the floor."

With some difficulty, they got Mr. Mann into the bathroom.

"Ugh! This place is filthy!" John wrinkled his nose in disgust, "Like anybody would notice vomit on the floor!"

They sat Mr. Mann on the floor, since he kept falling off the toilet. A preliminary search of his pockets revealed nothing except a wad of cash.

"Motive wasn't robbery, "John observed.

When Juno searched had searched the pockets, she discovered something odd near the man's groin.

"We need to take off his pants."

John looked at her, "Why?"

"He has something hidden in them."

"My uncle Elroy used to have something hidden in his pants too, but it us kids learned pretty early it was nothing we wanted to see!"

Juno sighed in irritation, unzipping the man's pants, "Lift him up."

"This is doing nothing for my back, "John grunted as he lifted the man.

Juno found an envelope jammed into the man's underwear, "Let's get out of here!"

"Check his shoes!"

"Why?"

"That is another place to hide things--we might as well be thorough."

Sure enough, there was a security card in Mr. Mann's shoes, along with more cash.

"Okay, "Juno breathed, "Let's get out of here!"

"Yes, let's."

They smiled cheerfully at the waiter as they walked out.

"What about your friend?" he asked, "He didn't throw up on my floor, did he?"

Juno looked at him innocently, "Oh, no. We are going to bring the car around and get him."

They hurriedly exited the cafe--and out into the street that was crawling with policemen.

[MANICHAEAN]

One of these was Detective Inspector T.J.Walsh of Homicide who earlier that day had been leaning back in his swivel chair, bored and frustrated. In the other corner of this office, also in a semi recumbent posture had been Detective Sergeant Fred Schmidt quietly snoring, his premature double chins quivering almost imperceptibly with each expiation of breath.

Fred Schmidt was a good front line detective, but a pain in the butt. A big man of Anglo German descent, he was the type that tried to break your fingers in a macho handshake and whose idea of humour was to stand by the door, drop one & then exit closing the door after him.

When he didn't want to talk, which was often, he reverted to monosyllabic grunts & when he did want to talk, which by some perverse state of equipose, he also did often, you could not shut him up.

Juno & John Doe were moving in too much of a hurry for their own good & thus attracted attention. Like furtive wraiths the two policemen followed.

[SilentMute]

"They are heading for the alley," Detective Walsh observed, "We should split up. I'll follow behind them, you cut them off. And remember, Fred--restraining them doesn't mean you have to give them a concussion."

"Not making any promises, "Detective Schmidt grumbled, "You recognized the man, didn't you? It is that maniac that drove into our police station."

"We're all upset, Fred, but remember the lessons your anger management class taught you."

"I quit! Anger management p#**&* me off!"

Detective Walsh sighed and followed the couple into the alley. He hoped to catch them before Schmidt did. For one thing, he wanted to question the man--and didn't want the answers beaten from his brain by Schmidt. Why did he crash into the police department? Why did he kill the harmless old drunk? Did he kidnap the woman (it hadn't looked like she was unwilling in the surveillance video), or was she in cahoots with him? What was all this about? He shoved the questions into the back of his mind--he had to be careful when following suspects into an unfamiliar alley.

"We're being followed," John Doe murmured, "and the police are blocking our access to the parking lot."

Juno's heart thudded in her ears, "What are we going to do?"

John was quiet for a moment, then said, "Keep going. If I am right, this alley will be blocked by a truck."

"We're going to steal the truck?"

"No, trucks are not very good get-away cars--particularly when they have a flat tire. We're going to shake the policeman following us."

Sure enough, there was a truck with a flat tire blocking the alley way.

"Okay, then. We'll crawl under it."

"That is your plan to escape the police? Crawl under the truck? He can do the same."

"If you have a better idea, let's hear it. He may be leary of following us because it puts him in a vulnerable position. Even if he does follow, it will take him some time, and we can make a run for it and lose him. Now, less talk and more escaping. Ladies first."

Juno inwardly grumbled and crawled under the truck.

"Nice Spongebob underwear."

Juno felt like kicking John in the face, "Now I know why you wanted me to go first."

"Actually, I'm too distracted by the police to appreciate the view...and I had you go first because if we run into trouble on the other end, you'll get it first and I can make an escape."

"I'm impressed by your nobility," Juno replied sarcastically, hearing John's snicker in response.

Finally, Juno rose from under the truck, John following soon after. Suddenly, there was an angry roar, and a large man tackled John--causing him to impact the back of the truck hard enough to make his head spin.

Juno looked around helplessly as the man continued to beat up on John. The cop had totally ignored her. Detective Schmidt was a chauvinist, believing women were too weak to threaten a man physically. He hadn't recognized Juno, though he had leered at her plenty when she had been in the jail cell. He hadn't been looking at her face, though.

Juno looked inside a trash bin and picked up the first thing that looked useful. Schmidt was too focused on beating John to a pulp to notice her come up. She splashed the contents in the carton into Schmidt's face.

"Aaaaaaaaah!" Schmidt reached for his eyes, which were stinging from the turned sweet and sour sauce.

John grabbed Juno's hand and lead her into the back of the Chinese restaurant. The Chinese family who owned the place looked at the two, startled by the intruders. John smiled charmingly, and then pulled Juno to the stairs.

Up and up they climbed. Juno's lungs started to feel exhausted from the effort. Finally, they reached the top floor. John went through a door that lead to the roof. They looked over the edge--there were no adjacent buildings closeby they could jump to. It was too far down to jump to the ground.

"Well, what now?" Juno asked, exasperated.

Love the introduction of the new characters!

[MANICHAEAN]

They went on staring at each other, but it didn't get either of them anywhere.They had both done too much of it during their lives to expect miracles. Her voice faded off into a sort of sad whisper, like a mortician asking for a down payment.

A peculiar stillness came over his face. A peculiar fixed look in his silent black eyes.

"Right. Down this drainpipe to the ledge below" John said.

"One of the windows might be open & we can get in"

"I'll go first & you follow".

"Huh" said Juno "Still want a view of the Paris Underground! ".

"'I'll make the gags" John retorted sharply.

"I'm free, white and thirty-one" Juno said.

"I've seen all the approaches there are. I think I have. If I can't scare you, lick you, or seduce you, what the hell can I buy you with?"

"And with that," she said completely calm, "I believe I must have used up my entire stock of girlish charm."

Having attained the ledge on the second floor down from the roof. the intrepid duo negotiated a loose sash window, opened it slowly and lowered themselves gently into an apartment room below. Breathless from their exertions & cramped behind a heavy drape curtain, she stood so that he had to practically push her mammaries out of the way to get a view into the room.

The little man counting money in the kitchen went nicely with the neighbourhood. The fact that he carried a gun and a knife was a social eccentricity that would cause no comment at all in Idaho Street.

To his left, lounged a large man & wide. Not young nor handsome, but he looked durable. Above the sky-blue gabardine slacks he wore a two-tone leisure jacket which would have been revolting on a zebra. The neck of his canary-yellow shirt was open wide, which it had to be if his neck was going to get out. He was hatless and his large head was decorated with a reasonable amount of pale salmon-coloured hair. His nose had been broken but well set and it hadn't been a collectors item in the first place.

The man in the kitchen sneezed.

"Bless you" said Juno.

[SilentMute]

@everyone who reads this--I'm probably going to submit my story on several posts, as I had a problem submitting the whole thing.

The man with no fashion sense stepped forward menacingly, "What are you here for?"

"Um," Juno started to reply, but she couldn't think of a good excuse.

"We're sorry to disturb you, gentlemen. You see, we lost our keys to our apartment...and we don't have a spare set. We thought this was our apartment because we had left the windown open--but obviously we were mistaken. So we'll bid you adieu and just mosey on out of here if you don't mind and be on our way."

The large man blocked their exit, apparently not believing their story and having no intention of letting them leave.

"Right then," John Doe sighed, then suddenly picked up a statue and threw it at the man. The large man was strong as an ox and and just as slow. It hit him square in the head, leaving an ugly bloody gash. The large man blinked, and for a moment it didn't look like he was going to be badly fazed by the blow. Then he went down with a large THUD--which caused the quarrelsome old lady downstairs to tap on the ceiling and shout, "Quiet up there! I'm watching my stories!"

Juno and John had forgotten the little old man at the table. His friend had been the immediate threat. However, he reminded them of his presence when they heard the click of the gun and saw it pointed at them.

[SilentMute]

"You broke my statue," the old man said, "I liked that statue."

"We are very sorry, sir, "John Doe said, "But when you force people to defend themselves, things get broken."

"Including people," the old man sneered, "Did Mr. Newton send you? I ain't giving you no money. This is my territory--and I'm not letting some two bit hood that snorts his merchandise threaten me!"

"We do not know Mr. Newton--nor are we his messengers. Look, we were running away from some people--people we believe work for Mr. Newton. I was taking my wife here out for a romantic outing. Some of these hoods ambushed us and tried to assault her. I managed to fight them off--though look what they did to her dress! We managed to run away."

The man looked at Juno, his eyes having a gleam of appreciation--he wasn't so old not to appreciate a beautiful woman. Then he looked at John, then said, "Don't move. I'm going to search you."

Juno looked at John, and he gave her a meaningful stare. The old man patted them down and took a step back, lowering his gun, "You aren't packing."

"No," John said simply.

"Why don't you stay here for a while? The people who are chasing you will give up, and then you can leave. I doubt they'll lay in wait for you. Newton's thugs are disorganized and irresponsible. If they worked for me, they would be walking on the river floor with concrete boots."

"We'll accept your hospitality, thank you," John said.

Juno looked at him sharply. Catching her look, he whispered, "We'll definitely get captured by the cops if we go out now. I say it is safer to trust the stranger."

"There is a spare bedroom back there where you can rest and the lady can wash up," the old man gestured toward the hallway, eyes gleaming.

"What about your friend?"

"Ah, just leave him there! He'll wake up. He won't harm you, I promise."

[SilentMute]

A few minutes later, Juno exited the bathroom having tidied up as much as possible. John was peering through a little slit in the dirty blinds. From the intense orangish light of the sun, Juno could tell it was late in the afternoon. She had a very eventful day, and yet she wasn't tired. Her nerves felt tightly strung like a violin.

John sighed, "The police are still crawling all over the place. I wouldn't be surprised if they go door to door. I warned our friend. His name is Mr. Piangi, by the way. He said they won't search the apartment. We should stay in this room, but he says he's been running an operation in this building for years--and the police never got wind. He looks so harmless. The brute woke up and is giving me dirty looks, but Mr. Piangi has him on a tight leash."

The light from the window highlighted John Doe's features, and Juno never appreciated how handsome he was. It wasn't a face that automatically made a person say, "He is a handsome man." Actually, some of his features weren't very good--the mouth was too soft, the nose just a bit too big, etc. It was more his personality that made the most of his features. Of course, if he had looked like Johnny Depp, she may not have noticed before now...having been distracted by the jail break and dead body.

When Juno didn't reply, John looked back at her. She crossed the room and put a hand on his chest. He could feel the heat coming from her and felt his body respond.

"What is it?" he asked hoarsely, trying to contain himself--after all, the little minx may be a tease.

Juno smiled, licking her teeth, "I was thinking that you haven't been properly rewarded for your vailiant rescue today."

John leaned in closer, "No, I haven't--and you have been so much trouble too. What have you in mind?"

Juno wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the mouth. His grip around her tightened, forcing her hips against his groin. She moaned.

It was probably a new record at how fast their clothes wound up on the floor. They tore at each other like an impatient child does a Christmas present. The bed creaked noisily, announcing to the men in the next room and to the neighbors what they were doing. The old woman downstairs thumped on the ceiling and yelled. The teenage boy next door smiled and abandoned his math homework, one hand reaching for a well-perused magazine that had pictures of a semi-clad Angelina Jolie, while the other hand undid his zipper.

In the next room, Mr. Piangi's smile widened as he continued counting his money--stroking the bills like he would a beautiful woman. His large friend grunted in disgust and turned on the TV, holding an ice pack to his head. Mr. Piangi told him he should have his head examined, which was taken the wrong way. Art--which was short for Artemis and not Arthur--didn't trust doctors. Of course, Mr. Piangi couldn't blame him. At twelve years old, Art had went in to get his tonsils removed...and when he woke up, he still had his swollen tonsils but was freshly circumcised.

[SilentMute]

Detective Walsh knocked on Mr. Piangi's door. The old man answered, making sure to make himself look more infirmed than he was. Walsh's eyes looked past the man and into the dingy, sparse apartment. The only thing that made his eyes falter was the ruckus in the back room. Mr. Piangi looked disgusted, "Eh! Teenagers! They have no restraint! That boy next door, with hair that is as long as a girl's, he takes his fat girlfriend into his room when his poor mother--god bless her soul--goes to her third job to pay for his private school so he can have a better education and make something of himself! And he is probably going to knock up that fat, pimply girlfirend of his and ruin his future! Bah!"

Detective Walsh smiled slightly, then gave a description of the two people they were looking for. Mr. Piangi's expression didn't change, though he recognized the two people the police were looking for. He promised to keep an eye out, "I always do my civic duty, sir...and I always buy the policeman's calendar every year."

Walsh smiled, a little embarrassed--he hated his picture in the police's calendar, "Thank you, sir. Remember, don't approach these people if you see them. They have been linked to two murders."

Mr. Piangi assured him he wouldn't, going on about how the world had changed and what scuzzbuckets people were now--blah-blah-blah. Walsh managed to free himself from the lonely old man that wanted to talk his ear off.

When Mr. Piangi closed the door, his expression became grim and his back straightened. Art, who had been listening from the livng room, stared back, expressionless--the look he always got when he expected to be ordered to pound someone's head in. He actually enjoyed doing that very much, but people thought you were a bad person if you displayed your pleasure, so he had adopted a flat expression.

"Our friends lied, "Mr. Piangi said with mock regret, "It isn't nice to lie to people, is it, Art?"

Art tightened his fingers into a fist, making them snap.

Piangi gestured, "Not now, not while the police are around. Our friends are distracted. The police will probably up the surveillance of the area, but most will leave by nightfall. We'll take our friends somewhere private and question them. Then you can have your fun. We'll send a message to Newton that he can't threaten Theodore Salvadore Piangi!"

[SilentMute]

The next morning, Juno was woken up by a cockroach crawling across her forehead. She screamed.

John leapt out of bed in a panic, "Wh-What?"

"Cockroach!" Juno screamed, "It crawled on my head! Ehh!"

John looked deflated, "You screamed like a banshee over a little cockroach?"

"I hate roaches!"

John held his hands up, "Okay, okay. I better go tell Mr. Piangi all is well. I'm surprised he nor that brute hasn't borken in here guns ablazing."

Juno looked around, John's shoe in hand, ready to smash the evasive insect.

"Uh, Juno?" John said from the other room, "We have a problem."

"What?" Juno asked, intent on smashing the smart aleck insect.

"Come in here."

Juno sighed and went into the next room. She was about to ask what this was all about when she saw Mr. Piangi leaning over the table. At first she thought he had fallen asleep counting his money, but then she saw blood. He had been shot very cleanly in the head.

"You think the bodyguard killed him?" she asked, a lump in her throat.

John gestured towards the living room. The TV as on, but the sound was muted. The large man was lying supine on the couch, as if he were relaxing while watching his favorite show--only he had a neat bullet hole in his forehead.