Hope someone gets a least one laugh out of this. Don't expect much of a
story line. It's all in fun.
Barb

Comments welcome at Barbart@globalsite.net

  After enjoying a leisurely lunch with a beautiful lady he had only recently become acquainted with, A.J. Simon returned to his office. Thinking pleasant thoughts about the time spent in the company of pure loveliness, he opened the door. The sight which greeted him caused the younger Simon brother to stop in his tracks, his hand still on the door knob. "Rick, what do you think you're doing?" he asked of his older sibling.

  "I'm lookin' for "The Case Of Don Diablo," answered Rick Simon, A.J.'s brother and partner in their P.I. firm. "Have you seen it?"
 

"No, and why would you have wine cooler here at the office?" A.J. said, closing the door and proceeding to stand next to the other fellow.
 

"I brought it here to take on my date tonight," Rick replied, turning the office upside down in his search. "A.J., I've really got "Something Special" planned."
 

A.J.'s eyebrows went up. "Oh? Anybody I know?"
 

"Nope. I don't even know her."
 

"What?"
   

"It's a blind date. She sent me a note, inviting me to have dinner with her."
 

"C'mon, Rick!" A.J. exclaimed. "You remember what happened the last time you went on a blind date? What was her name? "Bad Betty?" Yes, that was it. She nearly put you in the hospital for life. She----"
 

"Never mind that, A.J.!" Rick cut in. "This is different. Here, I'll read you the note."
 

A.J. sighed in exasperation, but prepared to listen. "Okay, Rick, let me hear what "Grand Illusion" you've got in your head this time."
 

Rick retrieved a piece of paper from his desk and began to read from it aloud. "Dear Rick. I really dig you and would like to have dinner with you on your boat. I'll be glad to prepare it. I'll be there at seven. "Love, Christy."
 

He laughed and laughed, did A.J., while Rick glared at him. Finally,the younger man was in control enough to speak. "Rick, that's crazy. You don't know this woman!You don't even know it is a woman! You can't tell what "Trapdoors" might be awaiting you."
 

"You're just jealous," Rick sneered.
 

"I'm not jealous," A.J. denied, then moved to his desk and began riffling through papers. "What have you done with "The List," Rick?"
 

"What list?"
 

"The list I had here on my desk. It had all of the cases on it I want us to look into."
 

"A.J., I don't have time for that now."
 

"Look, Rick, we need work. We're not "Simon And Simon And Associates," you know?  There's just the two of us and we need to keep something on the docket."

 

"What cases did it have on it?"
 

"Well, there was the "D.J., D.O.A." case," A.J. began to recite from memory, "And then there was that guy who was "A.W.O.L." They say that was a "Deep Water Death."  And then there was a "Little Boy Dead" on a downtown street this morning."
 

Rick nodded. "They all sound interesting. We'll look into 'em, but first I gotta find that wine cooler. I'll just bet Christy likes that stuff."
 

A.J. shook his head. "You're asking for trouble, but it's your business."
 

"Yes, it is," Rick agreed. He was about to expand on the thought when the door opened.

 

"Mom!" the Simon brothers said in unison, and then A.J. spoke further.  "What brings you to the downtown of  "Our Fair City?"
 

Cecelia Simon smiled and accepted embraces from both of her sons before replying, "I just came down to get "Something For Sarah."
 

"Who's Sarah?" Rick asked.
 

"Oh, Sarah is my friend from college. She lives down the Baja now.  She's coming in later today. Her flight was scheduled for yesterday, but they had a "Sudden Storm" come up and she couldn't get out."
 

"Ah, "Baja, Humbug!" Rick said. "I don't like it down there."
 

A.J. grinned. "That's just because you didn't make it in the Charter business."
 

Rick shrugged. "So, Mom, what are you and this Sarah person gonna do while she's here?"
 

"I'm having a party for her, Honey. All of our old friends are coming.  "Mike and Pat, Phil----"
 

"How is Phil?" A.J. broke in.
 

"Oh, he's "Still Phil After All These Years," Cecelia said. "And of course Mike hasn't been here for a long time. Why, "The Last Time I Saw Michael" was at our twenty fifth alumni celebration. And, of course "Quint Is Out" of the institution now, so he'll be there."
 

A.J. said, "Sounds like you're going to have fun, I'm glad------" He stopped speaking when something on his desk caught his attention.
 

"What are you lookin' at?" Rick wondered.
 

"This," A.J. held up a piece of paper. "What is it?"
 

"Looks like a piece of paper to me," Rick said.
 

"I know it's a piece of paper, Rick, but what does it mean?"
 

"What does it say?"
 

"It says, "Room 3502."
 

"Oh yea. I meant to put that in "The Dead Letter File."
 

"Rick, this isn't a letter!"
 

"Well, I meant to put it in the waste paper basket, then."
 

"What does it mean, Rick?"
 

"The number, you mean?"
 

Totally exasperated, A.J. said, "Yes, this paper has a room number on it. What does---?"
 

"A man called and said there was a "Lost Lady" in a hotel this morning. They have her in that room now."
 

"Is this a potential client?" A.J. demanded to know. "And if so, why didn't you tell me?"
 

Cecelia had been listening to the exchange between her sons. At that point, she cut in. "Boys, I'm sorry, but I have to go. I have lots to do before the party."
 

"Okay, Mom," A.J. said. "Have fun and "May The Road Rise Up" to meet you."
 

"Yea, good luck with the party, Mom," said Rick. "And "Break A Leg, Darling."
   

At the door now, Cecelia  favored Rick with a look which showed both puzzlement and hurt, and then she left. A.J. pounced on his brother immediately. "Rick, why did you say that to Mom?"
 

"Say what?"
 

"Telling her to break a leg!"
 

"A.J., that's supposed to bring her good luck," Rick explained.
 

"Only if she's in the theatre," A.J. countered.
 

"Okay, okay. Help me find that wine cooler, will ya?"
 

"No, I won't. Rick, I don't think you should meet this Christy person alone."
 

"Yea, well, I'm going to. A.J., did you see the Padres game last night?"
 

"No, and stop changing the subject," A.J. growled.
 

Rick proceeded as if his brother hadn't spoken. "The Rookie" pitcher the Dodgers called up from the minors got our guys to hit into one "Double Play" right after another. It was pitiful.  That guy must have studied "Zen And The Art Of The Split Finger Fastball."
 

"Rick, "It's Only A Game," now what did the man say about the woman who's in this room at the hotel?"
 

Rick, still searching high and low for the wine cooler, grumbled, "Not much. You know who I miss, A.J.?"
 

"Not much! Rick, what kind of an answer is that? And who do you miss?"

 

"Town."
 

A.J. nodded. "I miss Town too, but Abby's nice, even if she is a "New Cop In Town."
 

Rick shrugged. "Sure, but I still miss "The Cop Who Came To Dinner." I hate it since he's been "Out Of Town Brown." I wonder why the department did that to him?"
 

"Just a "Judgment Call," I suppose," A.J. said.  "But c'mon, Rick, tell me about the woman who's lost."
 

"She's just another  "John Doe," Rick shrugged.
 

"She'd be a Jane Doe, don't you think?"
 

"Yea, sure. Anyway," Rick went on. "They found her wanderin' on "The Dark Side Of The Street" this mornin' in downtown San Diego."
 

"Who found her and why are they keeping her in a hotel?" A.J. prodded.

 

"This guy who called said he found her and him and his buddy are keepin' her. They don't want the police to know about it. Want us to find out who she is."
 

A.J. gave his brother a look which reeked with skepticism. "Rick, I don't think we're getting "The Bare Facts" about this."
 

"So? We'll question her and the guys who found her when we get there.  Then we'll get the facts."
 

"Let's go then," A.J. said.
 

Rick had other ideas. "A.J., would you just take it calm? I need to find the Don Diablo first."
 

"Rick!"
 

"Listen, Kid, you're gettin' bad about wantin' to work all the time. I think you're either sufferin' from the "Red Dog Blues" or the "Down Home Country Blues" or you could even have the "Full Moon Blues."
 

"That last one is your department," A.J. said. "And I'm not from the country, nor do I have a red dog. Where's Marlowe, by the way?"
 

"Oh, he follows the good lookin' chicks that parade around next to the boat. I hollered at him this mornin'. I said, "Marlowe, Come Home," but he didn't seem to hear me."
 

"As the old saying goes," A.J. said. "Like master, like dog."
 

Rick's brow wrinkled, "I think the saying is, "Like Father, Like Son."

"Same thing," the younger man quipped. "Let's go."
 

"Okay, but you gotta promise I can get home in time for dinner with Christy."
 

"Rick, you're asking for trouble."
 

"So you said. You know, A.J., ever since that woman had that "Significant Obsession" with you, you've been a little crazy."
 

"Is that so? "Just Because I'm Paranoid" about women now doesn't mean I'm crazy, "A.J. rationalized. "Besides, I doubt if you have many girls asking each other "Have You Hugged Your Private Detective Today?"
 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rick asked as they headed for the elevator in their building.
 

"I just don't think you have "A Firm Grasp Of Reality," that's all."
 

Rick stopped walking. "Kid, all we do lately is argue. "I Thought The War Was Over." If we were married, we'd be headed for a "D-I-V-O-R-C-E"
 

"We're not married, though. We're brothers and bound by the "Ties That Bind." Now, let's get over to that hotel. This case is liable to "Slither" away from us and it might be "The Last Big Break" we'll ever have."

The brothers Simon took the elevator down and proceeded to A.J.'s little Red Camaro. They got in, A.J. behind the wheel, and pulled out into traffic. No more were they under way than Rick took up the subject he'd been harping on in the office. "You know, A.J., you've been "Almost Completely Out Of Circulation" lately. If you don't start thinkin' 'bout "Love And/Or Marriage" again, it's gonna be too late."
 

"Too late for what?" A.J. demanded to know.
 

"Too late to produce a son," Rick answered quickly. "I want us both to have sons, Kid. I want them to take over the firm. I want it to be called "Simon and Simon, Jr." They'll have their office in some fancy building and be referred to as "Second Story Simons."
 

A.J. glared across the seat. "You know, Rick, if you're not careful, our firm is going to be called "Simon without Simon" because you're going to be in a padded cell somewhere."
 

Rick grimaced. "No need to get testy about it."
 

"Besides which," A.J. went on. "You're wrong about me. I had a lunch date today with a very nice lady."
 

"Oh?" Rick grinned. "Any, uh, vibes?"
 

A.J. frowned. "No, sorry to say. She's "Desperately Seeking Dacody."
 

"Huh?"
 

"Oh, some guy took off and left her behind. His name's Dacody."
 

"At least you're tryin', "Rick shrugged. "Here we are. Hey, what's that?"
 

"Just a piece of paper flew up and hit the windshield," A.J. said.
 

"Looks like a calendar," Rick ventured, peering at the large object which had stuck on the portion of the windshield in front of him. "Look, it's one with that old movie star! What's her name? The one with the legs!"
 

A.J. glowed. "Hey, "Betty Grable Flies Again!" Better grab it and throw it in the car. It's a national "Treasure."

They departed the Camaro. Rick retrieved the calendar and threw it on the back seat before they began walking toward the hotel entrance. Side by side they proceeded to the front door and entered. Immediately, they saw there had been excitement of some sort here. A.J. approached the front desk and asked, "What's going on? Why all the people milling around?"
 

The fellow there began chattering half in Spanish and half in English.  A.J. turned to his brother, "What is he saying, Rick?"
 

"He said somethin' about murder. Let me ask him." Rick then stepped up to the desk clerk.  "What was that you said---uh----" looking closely at the name tag the man wore, he finished, "What was that you said, Alonso? Somebody's been murdered?"
 

"Si!" the man said excitedly. "I get off in dos minutes. Can't talk.  Adios."
 

Rick frowned. "Bon Voyage, Alonso."
 

"Who's been murdered?" A.J. wanted to know.
 

"Can't get anything out of him. Let's ask somebody else."
 

"I hope it wasn't the woman we came over here to see," A.J. grumbled.
 

"Oh, don't be such a skeptic. We might as well go on up to that room."

A.J. nodded. "No time like the present to find out if the two are connected."
 

They walked to the elevator, pushed the buttom and waited. When the door opened, they were surprised to see Lt. Abigail Marsh getting off. "Abby!" A.J. greeted.  "What's going on?"
 

Looking to be in a hurry, Abby said, "I'm going to give the "Details At Eleven." You can listen with everyone else."
 

"Wait a minute!" Rick bellowed. "Is that any way to treat your friends?"
 

"Look, guys," Abby said. "There's been a "Double Entry" on the murder side of the ledger for today. I'm busy."
 

"Abby, this double murder wouldn't by any chance have been in a room with the number 3502 would it?" A.J. asked.
 

Lt. Marsh hesitated momentarily before walking on. She replied, "Yes, how did you know that?"
 

"He made an unlucky guess," Rick scowled. "What happened?"
 

Abby began to walk away. Over her shoulder, she said, "Two men were murdered. The killer just vanished into "Thin Air."

"Sounds like there is a connection," A.J. said, when he and Rick were alone again.
 

"A connection?" Rick acted dumb.
 

"Yes, a connection, Rick. You know something, I don't think you wanted anything to do with this case. I don't think there was ever any Don Diablo in the office and you knew it. You were stalling. How close am I?"
 

Rick looked guilty. "A.J., that man that called gave me the willies.  He said the hotel room was haunted."
 

"Haunted!"
 

"Yea, haunted," Rick repeated. "He said there was  "The Skull Of Nostradamus" on the dresser and "The Dillinger Print" was hangin' on the wall."
 

A.J.'s eyes grew large. "What's the Dillinger Print? A picture of John Dillinger? A print of his hand, his foot, what?"
 

Shrugging, Rick said, "How would I know? I sure as hell didn't ask him. I didn't wanta know."
 

"Rick! You told me those two guys, and they evidently have been murdered, you said they were keepin' this woman who was lost in a room. Now, if they thought it was haunted, why didn't they ask to move out of it?"
 

"Could be they would have, if they hadn't been killed first," Rick pointed out.
 

"And it could be," A.J. speculated. "That if you hadn't been so squeemish, we might have been here in time to save them."
 

"Well, "Play It Again, Simon!" Rick roared.
 

"Huh!"
 

"Tell me again how stupid I am, how I did it all wrong, how-----"
 

"Oh shut up, Rick. Let's go upstairs."
 

"You still wanta go to that room, after what I just told you?"
 

"Sure," A.J. said. "I want to find out why Abby is guarding the facts of this case tighter than "The Secret Of The Chrome Eagle."
 

"Maybe she don't have any facts," Rick said. "Maybe she don't know about the woman."
 

"What do you know about her?" A.J. inquired. "Other than she was lost?  Have you told me everything that guy told you?"
 

Again, Rick favored his brother with a sheepish expression. "Well," he began. "He said she kept muttering something about "Pirate's Key."
 

"That's in Florida!"
 

"You think I don't know that, A.J.! You think I don't remember----"
 

"All right, all right," A.J. cut in.  "Good heavens, wouldn't it be something if we've come across another case about that place?"
 

"What Goes Around Comes Around," Rick said.
 

"Meaning?" A.J. asked, a puzzled expression on his face.
 

"Meaning, that was one of our first cases. Now, if there's some connection here----"
 

"I see what you mean. But I doubt if there is. Let's get on the elevator and go see."
 

"Yea," Rick muttered. "Might as well put ourselves in "Harm's Way."
 

A.J. scowled. "That's what we do for a living, isn't it?"

They entered the elevator, pushed the button for the floor they wanted. The conveyance groaned and complained loudly before it began the lift. A.J. looked leery and said to his brother, "You suppose we should be worried about "The Burden Of The Beast?"
 

"Nay, it'll make it. A.J., I really wish you'd change your mind about this."
 

"Why, for heavens sake?"
 

"Because I want us to live to be old. I want there to be a "Mrs. Simon and Mrs. Simon."
 

"You are really stuck on that stuff today, Rick. What's got into you, anyway?"
 

"I'm gonna be hittin' forty soon, Kid."
 

"Oh, yes, well, I guess that does make a difference in people's perspectives."

The elevator came to a stop on the floor they wished to visit. They stepped off and walked to the room without further discussion. Once there, they found the door open, and someone they knew standing just inside. "Nixon!" Rick exclaimed. "What's happenin'?"
 

Nixon put his hand to his throat and whispered, "Two dead guys here.  Lt. Marsh suspects "Fowl Play."
 

"Really!" A.J. reacted to the obvious.
 

"I Heard It Was Murder," said Rick  "And how come you're talkin' so funny, Nixon?"
 

"Tonsillitis," the lawman managed to croak.
 

"Oh, sorry," A.J. said. "Any clues here as to who did this?"
 

Nixon shook his head no, but Rick immediately disagreed. "Yea, there is. Don't you smell that perfume?"
 

"Could be a woman's spent a lot of time in here," A.J. said.
 

"Well, A.J., I told ya----" Rick started to say, but his brother put his finger to his lips. Rick caught on. He said something entirely different than he had intended.  "Look at that picture, would ya?"
 

A.J. looked to where Rick was pointing. "It's Al Capone," he said.
 

A.J. motioned for the other man to come with him. They proceeded to stand in front of a photograph of the famous gangster. The younger brother said in a low voice to the older. "I thought you said it was Dillinger."
 

Rick shrugged. "Oh well, "What's In A Gnome?" I mean, uh, a name."
 

"Don't let on to Nixon we're on this case," A.J. whispered.
 

"And why do you suppose he thinks we're here? He'll guess we're on the case.
 

"Maybe not, Nixon's not too, uh,-----"
 

"Yea, you're right about that." Rick said. "Look, there's the skull the guy told me about. Now, that's a real "Walking Point." Er, uh, I mean talking point."
 

"Rick, what is the matter with you? You're suddenly saying everything wrong."
 

"Just nervous. I'd really like to get out of here. This reminds me too much of "The Tale Of The Tiger."
 

"Pardon?"
 

"A movie I saw the other night."
 

"B rated, no doubt. I never heard of it."
 

"It was made in "Nuevo Salvador."
 

"Sounds bad."
 

"It was. These guys thought they were playin' "The Least Dangerous Game" they could play, but they found out different."
 

"What in here reminds you of it?"
 

"The Skull. In the movie they had a "Skeleton Who Came Out Of The Closet."
 

"Rick! That's kid stuff!" A.J. laughed.
 

"Kid stuff, huh? If you had heard those "Ancient Echoes," you'd have thought kid stuff."
 

"Echoes?"
 

"Yes, they-----A.J., look!"
 

"What?"
 

"The skull moved! A.J.!"
 

"Take it easy," The younger fellow began, but then he, too, noticed movement. "I don't like this, Rick. There must be more "Facets" to this case then we realized."
 

"A.J., we didn't realize anything about it. We don't know anything about it. But I'll tell you one thing, if we don't get out of here, we're gonna be "Simon and Simon In Trouble Again."
 

"Now, stay calm. We may have "The Wrong Stuff" to handle this so far but we don't need to "Bail Out" just yet."
 

"Yea, well, maybe you're right," Rick said. "But I can just feel my date with Christy slippin' away."
 

"Wait a minute!" A.J. said, smacking himself on the forehead.
 

"What? What's goin' on?" Rick wanted to know.
 

"What if that's a connection?"
 

"A.J., what are you talkin' about?"
 

"Your tendency to fall for the "Dear Lovesick" stuff," A.J. replied.
 

Rick sneered. "Meaning?"
 

"You'll go out with anything in skirts that walks past you, Rick. You'll even go out with anything that sends you a note, sight unseen. People know that. It's an "Almost Foolproof" way to get your attention."
 

"Wear a skirt, you mean?" Rick growled. "A.J., I don't appreciate what you're implying."
 

"It's true, though. Now, this note you got, it's probably from the same people who called and got us to come over here."
 

"You're talkin' out of your head, Kid. My date tonight is legit."
 

"Okay, Rick, go ahead. Go home to that boat. Do you  desire "A Little Wine With Your Murder?"
 

"Murder!"
 

"Yes, it's a set up, don't you see?"
 

"No, I don't see," Rick admitted.
 

"Someone is trying to put us "Between The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea," A.J. explained.
 

Still in the dark, Rick said, "Look, A.J., I'm not tryin' to "Fly  The Alibi Skies" here, but I had kind of a rough night last night, so my brain aint exactly in overdrive."
 

"Is it ever?" A.J. chuckled.
 

Aggravated, Rick said, "I don't get your point yet, A.J., but let's turn on the TV in here and listen to Abby. It's eleven."
 

A.J. nodded his agreement and watched his brother walk over and switch on the motel room set. Lt. Marsh's face came on immediately.
 

"Good morning," Abby began, facing the television cameras. "There has been a double homicide here in San Diego. Early this morning, two men were murdered in their hotel room.  They are identified as Harry Abbott and Robert Hood. Mr. Abbott, we've learned, is from L.A. and is in the business of selling hats. Down there, they are talking this morning about "The Disappearance Of Harry The Hat." Mr. Hood is from Denver and from his hometown we have learned he was quite a man about town. We've learned that all of Colorado knows about "The Merry Adventures Of Robert Hood." We are investigating, but at the moment have no suspects.  Thank you."
 

Rick switched off the set. "Well, there you have it, the latest version of "The Love Song Of Abigail Marsh."
 

"Maybe we should tell her about the call you got," A.J. said. "And maybe we should tell her about your impending date with Christy."
 

Rick waxed exasperated. "A.J., they are not connected! I think we should concentrate on this haunted business! And besides, "Competition! Who Needs It!" We don't need "The Third Eye" on this case."
 

"Abby's not exactly competition," A.J. said. "And what do you mean about concentrating on the haunted business? Surely, you don't think that has anything to do with the murders?"
 

"Get out of the "Shadows", Kid!  A moving skull aint nothin' to sneeze at. Look at it! Two guys met their end in here with that skull! Probably, the woman was one of those "Earth To Stacey" types."
 

Rick, what the hell are you talking about?"
 

"C'mon, A.J., practice your trade here. "You, Too, Can Be A Detective."
 

"Yes, I can be, and I am. And I say the old skull there has nothing to do with the murders, but your friend, Christy, does."
 

"Ah, you're walkin' in "The Shadow Of Sam Penny," Kid."
 

"Sam Penny is the best detective in the world!" A.J. went on the defense. "I'd be proud to walk in his shadow."
 

"Fine, then you can have a"Reunion at Alcatraz."
 

"What!"
 

"You can close down your mind like Penny did, become a has been. Live in the past, visit the old prison that aint functional no more."
 

A.J. looked warily at his brother. "Rick, you can say what you want, think what you want about me, but I want to be there with you when you meet Christy tonight. I want your permission to come aboard when you make her acquaintance."
 

"Well, "You aint gonna get it from me, Jack!" Rick said. "That's my boat, it's my "Mobile Home Of The Brave," I don't need your help to defend it."
 

"A boat isn't a mobile home, Rick!"
 

"Of course, it is. You pull anchor and you're mobile."
 

The younger man grinned. "Okay, okay. So, we have a disagreement. You think the setting here, the spooky stuff, is the answer and I think that note you got is connected to the telephone call from the man."
 

Rick frowned. "It's an honest disagreement."
 

"It is. We're children of the disagreement times, you know?"
 

"Say what?"
 

"We came of age in the 60's. The time of protests," A.J. explained.
 

"Yea," Rick agreed. "Who Killed The Sixties"?
 

A.J. shrugged. "I think they just died a natural death like every other period in our history. Let's get back to Christy."
 

"I wish I could!" Rick exclaimed. "I bet she's a beauty."
 

"It's possible, you know, to be a "Beauty And Deceased" at the same time."
 

"What makes you think Christy's deceased!" Rick yelled. "A.J., I'm beginnin' to worry about you!"
 

"Actually, I don't think there is a Christy, or that there ever was.  Whoever sent you that note and ask to cook dinner for you will be using a "Recipe For Disaster."
 

"You're full of it!" Rick announced loudly. "Of course there's a Christy."
 

"Well, then let me meet her when you do. If she looks like she's a legitimate date, then I'll leave you alone with her. Deal?"
 

Rick shrugged. "Yea, deal. What about the skull?"
 

"Let's look into the other part first. If we find nothing, then we'll come back to the skull.  Okay?"
 

Rick sighed heavily. "Okay, but listen, A.J., I got a feelin' about Christy, you know? I mean, I'd just as soon go "Under The Knife" as to not get the chance to meet her."

"Well, I'll tell you what," A.J. said. "I'll stay under "Deep Cover" on the boat. She'll never know I'm there unless there's trouble. How's that sound?"
 

"Sounds like "A Design For Living," Kid, at least for tonight. Let's get out of here."

The Simon brothers departed the hotel, walked to A.J.'s car, got in, and drove away. They were quiet for most of the drive to Rick's houseboat. Nearly there, Rick said, "You know, A.J., you could be right. The note and the proposition it made might just be "Too Much Of A Good Thing."
 

"Yes, it might," A.J. agreed. "I know you wanted to play "All Your Favorite Games" with this mystery woman, but you need to be careful."
 

"I will be. So, do you want me to fix your lunch or do you want to stop and get somethin'?  Speak now or "Forever Hold Your Piece."
 

"I guess I can try to eat your cooking one more time," A.J. smiled.  "Just For Old Crime's Sake."
 

"What!"
 

"I meant to say old time's sake, of course," A.J. grinned.
 

"Sure you did, Kid, sure you did. Well, here we are."
 

A.J. frowned. "Yea, here we are, and I should have had you stop somewhere on the way."
 

"Where?"
 

"I need to get a "Photo Finished."
 

"What photo?" Rick asked, puzzled.
 

"Oh, just a picture I took the other day."
 

"Ah," Rick grinned. "I'll bet I know. You took a picture of that classy dame you had a date with."
 

"Well, so what?" A.J. went on the defensive. "I have a right to take a picture of my dates. She's very wealthy, you know?"
 

"Yea, well, "The Richer They Are The Harder They Fall."
 

"You've been saying all day that you want me to date. Make up your mind. I kind of liked her."
 

"Well, "Mummy Talks." Er, I mean money talks."
 

"There you go again, Rick, saying things wrong, getting your tongue twisted. You sure you aren't on something?"
 

"On something? What the hell does that mean?"
 

"You can't talk plain today. I'm wondering if you're on a drug or something."
 

"No, A.J., I'm not. Now, let's go in and get on the "Enchilada Express."
 

"What!"
 

"I'm gonna fix enchiladas for lunch."
 

"Oh."

They entered the houseboat. A.J. plopped down on the couch and Rick headed for the kitchen.  Looking over at his brother, he said, "You know, A.J., maybe the Florida connection is more important than we're giving it credit for."
 

"Could be. Wouldn't it be swell if we could go back there for a visit?"
 

"Yea, swell, and "Second Swell."
 

"What?" A.J. said.
 

"Maybe I should have said double swell," Rick explained. "Anyway, it would be swell."
 

A.J. got up and walked over to his brother. "Rick, do you feel okay?"
 

Rick glanced at his brother as he approached. "Sure, I feel fine. I feel like doin' the "Blue Chip Stomp," feel like I'll see many a "Sunrise At Camp Apollo."
 

"You're talking sort of, well, out of your head," A.J. said. "Do you realize that?"
 

"What I realize is that you're just tryin' to get me "Psyched Out" for some reason, Kid. If you had to "Walk A Mile In My Hat" you'd know that skull business just about did it for me. I can't take that stuff. Otherwise, I'm fine."
 

"Okay, if that's all it is. I just don't like to think that you're losing it, because then I'd have to consider that it might be in the "Bloodlines," that I might be next."
 

Rick grinned. "Yea, well, relax. The "Family Forecast" is for total sanity."
 

"If you say so," A.J. grinned back. "But I have to stay on my "Heels And Toes."
 

Chuckling, Rick said. "Now who's talkin' crazy? I think it's just your toes you have to stay on."
 

"They say "The Apple Never Falls Far From the Tree," A.J. shrugged.  "Maybe we're both a little nuts."
 

"It's all in the "Eye Of The Beholder" who's nuts and who isn't," Rick said, "So let's just drop it, okay?"
 

"Okay, you've heard "The Last Harangue" from me."
 

"Good. Turn on the TV, will ya?"
 

"Why?" A.J. asked. "What's on, some soap opera?"
 

"Nope. "Rough Rider Rides Again" is bein' shown in reruns."
 

"No kidding?" A.J. smiled.
 

"No kiddin' and after that "Tanner, P.I. For Hire" comes on."
  

"Wow, guess I better start watching TV and stop reading that book I've been trying to finish," A.J. said.
 

"What book?"
 

"Murder Between The Lines," A.J. provided an answer.
 

"Sounds interesting," Rick said. "What's it about?"
 

"Oh, the usual stuff," A.J. began, then hesitated. "Did you see what I saw?"
 

"What did you saw?" Rick asked.
 

A.J. grinned slightly at the way his brother expressed himself. "I saw a really fine looking pair of legs go by your door."
 

Rick ran to open the sliding glass door on his boat. He quickly looked around for the legs the other man had mentioned. A.J. heard him yell. He, too, then went out. He found Rick staring out at the parking lot near where the houseboat was tied.
 

"Did you see her?" A.J. asked.
 

"She's over there," Rick pointed. "About to "Enter The Jaguar."
 

"I see her," A.J. said, then whistled. "Wow, don't tell me "Emeralds Are Not A Girl's Best Friend."
 

Rick turned to look at his brother. Scowling, he said, "I don't remember telling you that."
 

"Cut out the funny stuff, will ya, Rick! What do you suppose such a fancy lady was doing on your boat?"
 

"A mistake on her part, no doubt," Rick frowned. "She's somethin' though, aint she?"
 

A.J. agreed. "She's got to be "The Hottest Ticket In Town."
 

"Hey!" Rick suddenly shouted. "You don't suppose that's Christy, do you?"
 

"She wasn't supposed to come this early, was she?"
 

"No, but, it could be her. I'll tell you, A.J., that would be just like gettin' "Manna From Heaven."
 

A.J. laughed. "You're dreamin', Rick."
 

"Sometimes Dreams Come True," Rick said. "Look, she's gettin' out of her car again. She's comin' this way!"
 

"So she is," A.J. smiled, then watched along with his brother as the woman made her way back to the houseboat. She walked up to the door and was almost there before she noticed the two men standing just inside of it.
 

"Hello," A.J. said.
 

"Hi,' Rick said.
 

"C'est Simon," the woman said.
 

"What does she mean by that?" Rick asked his brother.
 

"That's French," A.J. said, then to the woman. "We're the Simon brothers. I'm A.J. and this is my brother Rick."
 

"You are the Simons, no?" she said in a heavy French accent.
 

"No, er, uh, yes, we're the Simons," Rick said. "I'm Rick and this is my brother A.J."
 

"I already told her that," A.J. said, exasperated.
 

"What can we do for you?" Rick asked, smiling at the woman.
 

"I am from the Revolution # 9 1/2."
 

"What's that?" Rick frowned.
 

"You have heard of the "Corpus Delicti?" the woman questioned.
 

"What the hell is she talkin' about, Kid?" Rick asked his brother. "I don't want to play a "Guessing Game" here."
 

"It means the body of a crime," A.J. said.
 

Rick shot two questions at the woman. "You've seen the body of a crime? You've seen a corpse?"
 

"Rick?" A.J. said.
 

"Yea?"
 

"Do you smell that perfume she's wearing?"
 

Rick sniffed the air. "Oh boy," he said. "We're ready for "Act Five" of "The Club Murder Vacation."
 

"What does that mean?" A.J. asked with a puzzled expression on his face.
 

"Haven't you ever seen that movie about the family on vacation at a fancy club when a murder is committed?"
 

"I don't think so," A.J. said. "You know I don't watch stuff like that. Was perfume involved in the mur----Rick?"
 

"Yea."
 

"She's gone."
 

"Oh boy," Rick said. "While we're jawin' away, the suspect disappears.  This aint "The Mickey Mouse Mob" we're dealin' with."
 

"No," A.J. agreed, somber. "That was the woman who'd been in that hotel room."
 

"Yea, I'd know the smell of that perfume anywhere," Rick said.
 

"And I'll bet she's your Christy."
 

Reluctantly, Rick concurred. "Could be. A.J., I think we are now under a "Cloak Of Danger."
 

"I wonder if she put something on your boat? Maybe we should get off of it, until he see whether or not it's going to blow up. You have insurance, don't you?"
 

Rick stared at his brother. "Of course I have insurance. It's "The Ten Thousand Dollar Deductible" kind, but it's insurance."
 

"Why on earth do you have such a high deductible, Rick?"
 

"They didn't like the looks of me," Rick explained, scowling. "I tried to tell 'em I never carry any "Precious Cargo" but they wouldn't listen. Said that's all they would give me."
 

"Well, I'm pretty precious," A.J. said. "And I'm thinkin' we'd best get off of here until we see what happens."
 

"What's the matter with you, A.J.? Why run? Let's look for the bomb or whatever she might have left behind."
 

"Okay, Rick, but I'm not staying long."

"She may have gone top side," Rick said. "Let's look up there first."
 

A.J. nodded his agreement and the two men climbed the ladder which took them to the top of the houseboat. Rick kept a few chairs for lounging up there. The Simons began to search. It was A.J. who made the find. "Would you look at this!" he exclaimed.
 

"Look at what? What is it?"
 

"It's a picture. A painting."
 

"Of what?" Rick asked, coming quickly to take a look for himself at his brother's find. He gazed at it for a moment. "It's a man."
 

"Yes, a man in a rocking chair."
 

"It says somethin' there, Kid. Can you read it?"
 

A.J. peered at the writing at the bottom of the canvas. "It says "Art For Arthur's Sake."
 

"What the hell do you think that means?"
 

"I don't know," A.J. started to say, then hesitated. "Wait, it says something at the top. It's awfully small writing."
 

"Can you make it out?"
 

"Let's see. V I R G I N I A. Virginia?"
 

"Yep, that's what it spelled," Rick said. "And I bet I know what it means."
 

"What?"
 

"A.J., go get your things packed. We're takin' a trip."
 

"To where? Rick, are you crazy?"
 

"Nope. We've got somethin' we gotta do "For The People."
 

"What? What people?"
 

"All people."
 

"Rick, I'm not going anywhere until you explain yourself. Where are we going?"
 

"We're goin' to Washington, D.C., Kid. We've got to play the role of "Matchmakers" for our government."
 

A.J., perplexed, glanced around him. "What has happened here to make you talk so crazy, Rick?  First, there was a note from Christy. Then, the hotel room and the murders, then here there was the French woman dripping in emeralds and now this picture with a state name on it.  Somehow, that makes you think we have to go to Washington?"
 

"Yea, but "First, Let's Kill All The Lawyers." You know, "Ashes To Ashes, And None Too Soon."
 

"Rick!" A.J. yelled, alarm in his voice. "What's happened to you?  I believe you have taken some kind of drug!"
 

"Well now, you've certainly become a very "Uncivil Servant!" Rick roared at his brother.
 

"I'm not you're servant!" A.J. returned just as loudly.
 

"Well, we're not gettin' along very well."
 

"No," A.J. agreed. "But remember, "Opposites Attack."
 

"Now who's crazy?" Rick said.
 

"Just tell me what you know about Virginia," A.J. pressed. "That writing on the picture seemed to set you off."
 

"What do I know about Virginia?" Rick asked, puzzled.
 

"Yes, what do you know about Virginia? Something to do with the State, I presume. I'ts close to D.C."
 

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! A.J., you've got it all wrong!  Virginia is a woman. And what a woman! She'll be in Washington. See, she works for the government, but she has this thing for a certain entertainer."
 

"Who?
 

"Liberace."
 

" Liberace?"
 

"Yea, Liberace. See, she wasn't sure he existed, but I told her, "Yes, Virginia, There Is A Liberace."
 

"You told her that?
 

"Yea."
 

"And that makes you think that we, you and me, ought to pack up and go to Washington?"
 

"Sure. He's playin' there in a Bar now and we can go there and introduce them. She'll feel better about things and she can then straighten all of this mess out."
 

"What mess, Rick?"
 

All of this we've gone through today. The skull stuff, the perfumed lady from the room  who came to my boat, the painting, all that stuff."

A.J. Simon grinned broadly and watched as his brother Rick fought the sleep cobwebs and finally seemed alert enough to talk sense. "Rick, are you good and awake now?"
 

Rick looked around. He had evidently fallen asleep on the couch in his brother's home. "Sure I'm awake. Sure I am. Why are you lookin' at me like I had two heads?"
 

Laughing out loud, A.J. said, "Because, Rick, you've been talking in your sleep. You just told me the most ridiculous, crazy, nutty story. You were doing your dialogue, mine, Mom's, Abby's, Nixon's, a hotel desk clerk,  and then some lady that supposedly came to your boat. I wish I could have written it down, Rick, it------"
 

"Okay, okay, okay, A.J.!" Rick interrupted. Never a patient man, he could be particularly testy upon first waking up. "What did I say?"
 

"I couldn't begin to tell you," A.J. chuckled. "It had everything in it but good-bye."
 

Rick got up from the couch. "Fine, then, "Simon Says Good-bye" and "Tanks For The Memories."
 

A.J. watched after his brother as he headed off for the bathroom.

BACK to the Simon and Simon Fan Fiction Page.