12:30 pm asserted the clock of the 1970 GTO. Jones found slight distraction in how out of place his car was in the lot. Not a single car here was not a luxury brand. It could be reasonably assumed that the entry luxury vehicles belonged to the wait staff, but still by any stretch of the imagination all who worked here were doing alright for themselves.


    Last night was too dark last night to take account of his surroundings. Most of the employees had already left by then. Jones wondered how the rest of the people he met last night were getting on with their work. He still did not particularly care for them, but he wondered if today felt the same to them as yesterday.


    Jones left the premises of The Lake House for Luca''s home. Little attention was paid to the speed limit. The private eye was too upset with himself to pay much attention to the law. He was, however, careful of getting caught by the odd policemen in town.


    The door was open and Jones let himself into the abode. It was looking a bit cleaner than when Jones had left before. Lovemarine was happy about the progress the now sleeping Luca Hartmann had made in cleaning his house so far.


    "I can now confirm that a murder has not occurred here." He said with a chuckle. The joke was not satisfactory enough to warrant a lengthy pause in their affairs. "Back to business, what have you found out Mr. Jones?"


    "We need to focus all of our efforts onto Vincent de More. I believe he murdered Claudia Wells."


    As the basis of all good police work, Lovemarine asked Jones to provide evidence for his position. Jones was eager to share his thoughts on the matter; the timing of the reappearance of the killer coinciding with Vincent de More''s known movements, the response to the questioning of why he had urged the police to shut down the investigation, and the missing picture frame."


    Lovemarine was on-board with the theory. The detective offered a seat to Jones. Once where a pizza box lay was a green cushion that had managed to be spared of any stain. All of the other cushions were in the wash. To the credit of Luca, it appeared as if the cleaning supplies for the house were well stocked.


    Noting Jones'' good work, Lovemarine offered to make a pot of coffee. Jones was quite enthused at the proposition. Hartmann ought have some expensive brand laying around for a tired sleaze to enjoy. The sound of the coffee brewing could be heard throughout the living room.


    Lovemarine and Jones resumed their discussion. The two still yet lacked the reason for the crime. The visible bluster of Vincent de More would only take them so far in their quest. Finding the motive was paramount to bringing de More to justice. Even if there was proof of the two knowing each other, a detail that they still lacked, the two could only wonder for what reason de More would murder the waitress. As they were beginning to deliberate what could motivate de More to commit this crime, Jones remembered to ask about Vincent de More''s mother.


    Lovemarine was able to provide some information. Although he claimed that his wife was the reason for his knowledge on the matter, the rumor was that currently Beatrice and her husband are headed to divorce. Jones'' mind began to connect the pieces. First came the issue that Vincent mentioned in the letter draft. The issue mentioned was divorce. From the writing, it was clear that the eldest son was on the mother''s side. The issue he was describing involved the mother somehow. If Jones had not broken into Vincent''s office, he might have missed the connection between the mother and Claudia. The wallpaper had the same ornate flower stems crossing pattern as the now missing picture frame. As the country club was designed by Beatrice de More the connection was beginning to come into sight.


    The coffee machine beeped to signal the liquid gold had released fully into the pot. Lovemarine came from the kitchen with the promised coffee. Before taking the long awaited sip, Jones filled the detective in on his revelation of the connection between the picture frame and the wallpaper. Still, while the evidence was now beyond reasonable coincidence, it yet could not hurdle over the issue of circumstance.


    The java was something of repute at the very least. The brand was not Jones'' favorite in the slightest. Too weak of a sensation for an experienced coffee drinker. Jones sometimes wished that drinking coffee could turn into a profession, the same way one could become adept at wine tasting.


    While his mind started to slip from concentration on the case, something about the out of place purity of the black coffee made him think of the door to Claudia''s apartment. A door that bore striking similarity to the level of detail to the door of Vincent''s office had no place being where it was.


    "Lovemarine is there any way for us to see who owned the apartment building Claudia stayed in? I am getting a hunch that Beatrice de More''s family owned that building or had something to do with it."


    "Let me call a clerk at police headquarters."


    Lovemarine went to the landline and called one of his colleagues who could access such records. As the conversation was carrying on, with Lovemarine eventually being put on hold, Jones made his way through the coffee. The light flavor made a quick downing of the beverage, not only possible, but, too, the only reasonable option to Jones.


    "I know this goes without saying Tim, but be sure not to tell the chief about this call. I am just crossing my Ts hear and do not want to worry him in the slightest. Again, thank you for the information and please tell your wife I hope to see her over at our house soon… bye."


    Jones was eager to hear the results. The de More''s did not own the building, but another notable family did.


    The Tuthill family owned that small three story multi family home. The Tuthills were not a reputable family in the lake regions. They were descended from bandits that had somehow been to able to keep their ill-gotten gains.


    "Could Beatrice de More have lived there at anytime?"


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "That information might be available at the county tax office. It is right here in Yeoville. Probably the only place they could afford to develop during the boom right after The Lake House was constructed."


    Luca Hartmann was still sleeping as the next step in the investigation unfurled before them. If the detective and the private eye could determine that Beatrice had lived at that apartment sometime in the past, it would make the gambit that Jones was plotting a very comfortable operation.


    The drive was quiet again. Jones knew that he was tired, but was beginning to realize the same might be true for Lovemarine. The road usually kept the private eye awake, but being in the passenger seat provided him with no such luxury.  "Stay awake, stay awake." he said to his mind over and over. Jones had no clue how long the drive was to be. Lovemarine only was willing to admit that the drive was in town.


    20 minutes later, the two had arrived at the parking lot of the tax office. The building was made of brick. One could only assume that the building was as old as the town itself. The two had to wait as the clerks were on their lunch break. Instead of waiting inside they decided to let the sun recharge them a little.


    "Staying awake there?" asked Lovemarine.


    "I said that out oud?"


    "Yes, son." replied the seasoned detective.


    "First rodeo with a long case?"


    "Unfortunately, or fortunately, not. I have been a private eye for the past 8 years. Lots of long days successive. I just have been working on unrelated matters before this case. I need a break urgently, but just not at Claudia''s expense."


    "Did you know her personally?" asked Lovemarine.


    "No, I met the father two days ago. I feel like I know her in a way. Like some sort of strange connection. Her apartment felt lifeless and I remember myself having that same issue once some time ago. I guess I just was able to grow up and put art on the walls." He paused. "That answer is the simple way out. Maybe, the connection I feel is just caused by the fact that I live while she is dead. No one could possibly envy her position of being murdered, yet here I am feeling sad for myself. She can never receive her life back, and here I am trying to put it back together. Even if I could somehow fix things wouldn''t she just die again. She would always live in fear not that it will happen one day, but that death will come again. I never understood how you homicide detectives can do it. This all really wears a man down."


    The detective understood had no good answer to the question. The detective did, however, know where he was coming from, gave him a pat on the back before asking him if he needed to recuse himself. "I am alright there lieutenant. I would tell you if it were necessary, but right now I can only think of her father." Jones'' words served as motivation to keep on going. The finish line was closer than it ever had been before. Not just a finish line, but a gold medal to boot, was a few more moments of investigative brilliance away.


    "Speaking of her father, I should ask him something. I wonder why she became so interested in money?"


    "I assume you have his number. Call him while I ask whether Beatrice lived at the Tuthill''s apartment building."


    The lunch break had ended when the first worker made her way back to the office. Lovemarine flashing his badge was able to put her to work on finding out whether there was any record of a Beatrice de More living at Claudia''s address.


    While Lovemarine was busy trying to ascertain the information, Jones gave Gary Wells a call. The father answered the call eager to learn what progress had been made. Before any update would be made, Jones inquired about Claudia''s recent money habits.  Jones introduced the subject by telling the father of his daughter''s change in habit. Jones asked if Gary knew of the reason why Claudia had changed so abruptly.


    Whatever happiness Gary had from Jones'' call initially quickly dissipated. He did know the reason. Gary had been diagnosed with cancer. He shared the news with his daughter. The mistake was calling into question whether his insurance would pay for his treatment in front of his daughter. He only mentioned it being a possibility, and an unlucky one at that, but Claudia had sent him 20,000 dollars two weeks after. he revealed the diagnosis to her. The mail contained a check and a note saying that she prayed for him every night.


    It sounded as if he had picked up a paper that lay only a few inches away to read aloud,"with much love from your daughter. That is how she ended it." Gary did not say another word for easily a quarter of a minute. He finally would resume by saying "20,000 dollars must have been her life savings."


    Jones could only answer, "I promise I will find her killer."


    Jones wished him good tidings and reminded him to stay on the coast. Hanging up the phone was difficult. He thought maybe he needed to say something more. The thought only lasted for a moment as Lovemarine was just opening the door.


    A shot rang out in the middle of the day. A pistol had fired from some distance away. The bullet missed the pay phone next to which Jones stood by a few feet. The murder attempt was unmistakably directed towards the private eye. As soon as the pistol''s sound clashed with the air, Jones ducked low hoping that whoever fired the shot was unable to see him in a prone position.


    Lovemarine was clearly visibly after stepping through the county tax office''s door. He stood only a few feet behind Jones, and pulled out his own firearm. He tried to spot where the shot had come from. Before any such identification could occur, one more poorly aimed shot flew past him to the left. The bullet collided with the brick wall, but was much to close for any comfort.


    Lovemarine too took cover on the ground. He, at the very least was covered by the walls surrounding the stairs. Still, the armed detective was at a severe disadvantage given that the shooter saw him and he still had no firm grasp on the person''s location. All fell silent for a few moments after the shots. This silence broke with the sound of running. The shooter was in full retreat. Still, both Lovemarine and Jones were hesitant to stand up.


    After a minute passed, it was discovered that shooter had truly ran. The two men stood up to see a car speeding away. A blue luxury sedan ran through a red light a block away. While the screeching tires of another car at the intersection was audible, the license plate was just beyond sight.


    "Should we pursue?" yelled Jones loudly after throwing himself to a standing position.


    "No, I think we know who was driving that car. Chasing him will only prevent the murder from being revealed. I do not want that punk getting anywhere near his lawyers," replied Lovemarine. The detective was confident that at least they had him on attempted murder charges. This was, however, not good enough. de More would be completely inaccessible the second he was in the police station. The only way for them to get de More on the murder of Claudia Wells was through confession.


    Lovemarine''s uncertainty of Jones'' character also aided his decision to not pursue the suspect here. While the P.I. had proven his experience to the lieutenant, he also knew that being shot at can break the ability of some people to restrain themselves – however justified it may be.


    The two made their way to a small brick wall right off of the stairs. The height was just perfect for two grown men to have an otherwise uncomfortable seat. Jones took a deep breathe. No matter how many times he had been shot at the adrenaline rush was always the same


    "Cigar?" asked the detective as he pulled one out of his trench coat interior pocket. The cigar was a green candela, a rare sight to see. The cigar was certainly a leftover from a time in which a homicide detective had a bumbling charm. Despite Lovemarine''s enthusiasm to calm his nerves, it took the second time of asking to find a cigar that survived his sudden jump to the ground.


    "No, thanks. But I will take your lighter." Jones took the lighter from Lovemarine''s outstretched hand and started to flip it between his fingers.


    "Beatrice de More did live there right?" asked Jones. Although there was little need to ask as the shooting had by now confirmed all suspicions, Lovemarine nodded. Two names filed their county taxes at the address for the same year, a one Beatrice de More and a Lawrence Tuthill.


    Jones was now just waiting eagerly for the police to arrive. The sooner that the police could process the situation, the quicker he would be out on the streets again. Contrary to the belief of Lovemarine, Jones was still fully in charge of his faculties. To Jones, violence was much less severe of a punishment than jail or, even, state sanctioned death. There was no dignity in either option. He hoped that the man who he was to soon catch felt the same way.


    Jones was ready to take down Vincent de More. The plan to have him confess was starting to be drawn in Jones'' mind. Jones would just need Lovemarine to be witness. Despite his upcoming reliance on the detective to be the witness that puts the final nail in Vincent de More''s coffin, he only felt comfortable in divulging the idea after he had dealt with the approaching vehicles with sirens.