Hello all:
Firstly, I must correct an error that many of you no doubt spotted in the last chapter. Frankie Frame has blue eyes - not green. Thanks to Gabrielle for pointing this out to me. I really do encourage you all to let me know when I make mistakes related to character or history - elsewise I could end up messing up through the entire story!
Secondly, I realize it has been a while since I posted last so to those following this little story, my apologies. I hope that you will enjoy this latest installment and that I will a new chapter up very soon.
And thank you for your generous words of encouragement.
Enough from me...on to Chapter 3.
Chapter 3
Felicia Gallant scowled as she gripped the telephone receiver with her left hand. Alone in her penthouse apartment, she made no effort to conceal just how she felt about the way this conversation was going.
“That’s ridiculous. Sal Parsons and I had a deal. How in the course of 16 hours did we go from handshakes and backslapping to no one over there returning phone calls?”
“I’m sorry Felicia,” came the reply, “but I just got a call from Bill Lewis, Parsons’ attorney. Apparently Sal had forgotten to inform Misty Parsons that he was in the process of selling one of the major assets of the Parsons Communications Group.”
“HIS EX-WIFE?! What has she got to do with any of this? I thought she was in Botox intensive care somewhere in Florida.”
“Well apparently the ex-Mrs. Parsons isn’t as ex as we were led to believe. By the looks of things, Sal was trying to unload the company as quick as he could and move the proceeds of the sale to some nice little offshore haven.”
“Oh. I see. So when Misty meets Sally in divorce court, he’s got all the joint property hidden in the Caribbean somewhere.” Felicia brought a hand up to rub her furrowed brow in frustration. “Listen Raymond, you go BACK to Lewis and tell him that we had a DEAL and I expect him to live up to his end of the bargain. And don’t give me anymore of your legal mumbo jumbo because I’ve about had it up to HERE with lawyers!”
Slamming the receiver back into its cradle she offered a final thought to the expanse of the empty room.
“ARRGH!”
At the sudden “ding dong” of the bell, Felicia whipped her gaze in the direction of the door.
“BUZZ OFF!!”
After a brief silence came a nasally toned, “Candy Gram.”
“I SAID BUZZ OFF!!”
Another moment of silence then the nasally tone.
“Cheese of the Month”
Felicia leapt from her chair and headed for the door under a full head of steam. “Cheese of the Month, eh?! Well consider yourself…!” Flinging open the door, she revealed the grinning face of Cass Winthrop. Staring at him in shock for a moment, she meekly finished, “…creamed.”
“Nahhhh,” Cass smirked, “I see myself more as a Monterey Jack. Or maybe a nice Gouda.”
“Oh my God! CASS!” Felicia exclaimed throwing her arms around the neck of her dearest friend.
Cass laughed heartily as he returned the embrace, “Whoa…hey…I’m feeling the onset of whiplash here.”
Felicia stepped back holding his hands, her face beaming with joy. “Let me look at you.” After a quick once over, she once again grabbed him in a hug, placing a kiss upon his cheek. “Oh Honey, it’s so good to see you. You have no idea.”
Cass savoured the warmth of the contact with a smile and a chuckle, “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.” Giving her a good squeeze, he added, “Oh Felicia, I’ve missed you.”
Suddenly realizing they were alone, Felicia released her grip upon him. “Wait a minute. Where’s Charlie?”
“Home…staying with some friends. I only came out for a couple of days and what with school and all, figured I’d fly solo this time.”
“Uh huh,” Felicia acknowledge slowly, the grinned. “Well, guess that just gives me another good reason to take a trip out there.” Grabbing hold of his arm, Felicia led him into the living room. “Come…tell me your news.”
“You first. What’s got you so riled? I heard you all the way down the hall.”
Dragging him down to sit beside her on the sofa, Felicia frowned darkly. “Why didn’t we all just listen to Shakespeare? The first thing we SHOULD have done is kill all the lawyers.” Noticing the feigned look of shock on Cass’ face, she slapped his arm playfully. “Present company exempted.”
“Thank you.” Sitting next to her on the sofa, he pressed for details. “So where did this sudden animosity toward my brethren come from?”
“Oh, it’s nothing…just some business stuff that zagged when it should have zigged. Look, you didn’t fly all the way out here to listen to me lament on the faults of our legal system. So, out with it. Why is it that you are suddenly appearing on my doorstep without notice, luggage OR your beautiful daughter? What’s wrong?”
Cass laughed. “Well, firstly, I did call to make sure you were going to be around. Second, I got in late last night and went directly to my hotel thus explaining the absence of baggage. And thirdly, why do you automatically assume that my being here means there’s something wrong? Jeesh, can’t a guy be a little impulsive once in a while?”
“Honey, I know you, remember. You are no longer the reckless, carefree poster boy for the Heffner lifestyle you used to be. Rather, you’re a single father with a 14-year-old daughter and sense of responsibility that borders on the obsessive. My God, you plan lane changes a week in advance.”
“I told you, Charlie has school and I just had some personal business to take care of.”
“What kind of personal business?” Felicia lay a hand on his arm, eyes wide. “Does this involve Lila? Are you here to see Lila?”
Cass offered a weak smile, shaking his head. “No, this has nothing to do with Lila.” Noticing the sullen look that past over his friends face, he continued, “Felicia, I told you. We made a clean break and I don’t intend to start muddying up the waters now. You’ve got to give that up already.”
“Well I’m sorry. But you two were so happy and then suddenly out of the blue you’re packing up moving to the Ozarks.”
“It’s the Rockies.”
“Whatever. Look,” she said wriggling in closer and reaching to hold his hands for emphasis, “I still think that the two of you can work all this out and, you know, find your way back to each other - before you end building a still and Charlie takes up the banjo.”
Cass sighed, “Felicia…”
“Not that I’ve got anything against a good banjo picker, but Cass, I’ve seen Lila. She still loves you.”
“And I love her, but she and I both know that it wouldn’t work. Not now.”
“Okay. Maybe not now. But if you at least keep that door open, then, after you resolve your…” She stopped mid-sentence as she saw Cass’ eyes narrow.
“Resolve my what?” he asked lowly.
Felicia looked down, “Cass, now it isn’t what you…”
Cass stood and began to pace the room, angry now as he cut her off. “Felicia, you and I have been friends for a very long time and I can appreciate your concern. But I really resent that you are discussing the details of my life with my former wife.”
“Well, it’s not like I went digging for information or something,” Felicia retorted in her own defense, but nonetheless bowed her head sheepishly. “I just happened to run into Lila at dinner one evening and…well, Lila is my friend too you know.”
“I realize that and I appreciate you being there for her. But what happened between Lila and I is not something for you to dissect and find a solution for as you pick at your entrée.”
He stopped and looked at her pointedly. “Look, there are some things going on in my life right now that I do need to…resolve…and I will. But my life with Lila is over. She’s not a part of my present and she’s not going to be a part of my future.” He reclaimed his seat on the sofa at Felicia’s side, his tone becoming more gentle. “And because I love you and would hate to see you waste your effort chasing illusions, I want you to promise me that you will put any such notions in the past where they belong.”
For a moment, Felicia studied her friend then cocked her head, averted her gaze and nodded. “Yes, well, I suppose that’s sound advice.” Again, she met his gaze. “Think you might try taking it for yourself?”
When Cass merely looked at her and said nothing, Felicia decided to head into ‘Non-Treading Angel’ territory.
“That is what this sudden trip to Bay City is about, isn’t it Cass? The past? Holding onto illusions?”
“That must have been some conversation the two of you had,” Cass said quietly with a weak smile. He stood and moved to look out the glass doors leading out to the balcony.
Felicia remained seated, her eyes fixed upon him. “Yeah,” she said softly, “it was.” Slowly she moved to stand behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder. “Honey, I was there. I saw the hell you went through after you lost Frankie. You can’t go through it all again. You can’t slip back into ‘what was’ at the expense of ‘what could be’. ”
His gaze focused off on some point in the distance, Cass’ reply was a quiet, “What if the ‘what was’ is the only ‘what could be’ that there is?”
Felicia frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”
He turned to face her, his eyes somber. “Felicia, I’m not trying to hold onto the past. It’s the past that’s got a hold of me. And I need your help if I’m ever going to finally break free.”
***
Jock Mertaw frowned derisively as he read over the report pages before him, unaware that his countenance was being observed from the open doorway. A gentle smile graced Charlotte’s face as she observed her burly friend.
As a long-serving veteran of the OSEC team, Jock’s features conveyed the story of years spent as an active operative on the ground and as leader in the corridors of HQ. To Char, Jock was the stereotypical Irish beat cop come to life – the round expressive face that would beam with a smile and instill fear with a frown. It was there in the warmth of Jock’s smile that Char had found the first reassurance that everything was going to be alright after she had awoken from the coma.
It was Jock who had guided her through those first days when she had no idea where she was, who she was or where she was going to end up. It was he who had been there to offer encouragement and support as she tried to build a life upon a foundation of unknowns.
She frowned now at the remembrance of Paul Donovan’s cutting words. She knew there were others in the organization that shared his view; ambitious, ruthless up-and-comers that saw Jock Mertaw as an aging obstacle on their path to personal glory. While misinterpreted by her ill-informed colleagues, Char’s defense of and loyalty to Jock were products of her sense of obligation, and familial affection, to the man who had quite literally saved her life.
Smiling, she tapped lightly on the doorframe. “Hey Boss. You wanted to see me?”
Jock’s frowned disappeared, “Hey Gorgeous,” he greeted, rising to his feet, “Come on in.”
“I’m not interrupting am I?”
“I called the meeting remember. Grab a seat.” He parked himself on the corner of the desk. “So how you doin’?”
“Doing fine Jock.”
“Yeah?”
Char frowned slightly, “Yeah. Why? Don’t I look fine?”
“Gorgeous. Always gorgeous. It’s just that, uh…”
Char nodded in understanding, “It’s just that you’ve been talking to Jan.”
“Actually, Jan’s been talking to me.” Jock’s face grew serious. “She’s worried about you Kiddo.”
“Jan is blowing things out of proportion…as usual. I’m fine.”
“Well, maybe you’re not the best person in the world to make that call.” Jock chided.
“Look, Jock, if this is what you wanted to see me about, then it’s a waste of both our time. I’m telling you I’m fine…fit as a fiddle…couldn’t be better. But if you want to take Jan’s word for it, that’s your option. You’re the Boss. So, if you want to put me on leave or suspension or whatever, you go right ahead.” She stood with the intention of leaving. “Just let me know okay?”
“You’re right, I am the Boss and I haven’t said you could leave.” Jock’s congenial tone was now stern and authoritative and stopped Char in her tracks. “Now sit the hell down.” He moved to sit behind his desk. “You know you don’t help your case when you spout off like that.”
Char replied grouchily, “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Listen Kiddo, I’m on your side. I have to take what the staff shrinks say very seriously. We have to deal with serious stuff in this line of work and we can’t afford to have our operatives working at anything less than 100 percent. But I will always give the benefit of the doubt to my guys on stuff like this. I figure you know yourself well enough to make the right call.”
Char chuckled.
Jock frowned. “Something funny?”
“Well, I…I just…”
“What?”
“Well, it’s reassuring that my boss thinks that as an amnesiac I would know myself well enough to…” her words trailed off as the storm clouds rolled over his face. “Oh, come on…lighten up. That’s funny.”
“There’s nothing funny about that Char. Nothing funny about that at all and it’s that cavalier attitude that worries me the most about you. It tells me that maybe you aren’t taking this as seriously as you need to…that maybe you’re not telling me everything I need to know.”
“Jock I wouldn’t do anything that would put my co-workers or our operations at risk.”
“I know you wouldn’t. That’s why I’m willing to believe you if you tell me you’re doing alright. But what I’m talking about is putting yourself at risk. You promised that you would tell me if you ever had any recollections of your past…if any memories were coming back.”
“But there’s nothing to tell Jock. It’s as blank a slate today as it was 6 years ago. You know just as much about my life before you found me as I do.”
Jock looked down. “Well, I need to know that on that account you and I are going to be straight with each other.”
“I give you my word.”
He looked at her for a moment, and then smiled, almost sadly. “Char, you know that I only ever meant to help you, right?”
“Of course Jock.”
“It’s just, well, if anything were to happen to you now, well…I just want you to be okay.”
“And I am okay,” Char said earnestly. “Really.”
Jock considered the situation a moment, then nodded, back in full professional mode. “Okay. We’ve got a situation and I’m going to need your help. It’s a little beyond your normal activities, but I’ve talked to Kane and he agrees you’re the best guy for the job.”
“I haven’t seen any traffic from the intelligence ops in the field. Is this a new operation?”
“It’s not an operation – at least not officially.” he said, looking down at the file before him. “Not yet.”
“Domestic or international?”
Jock looked up.
“Internal.”
Char’s expression grew troubled. “Internal?”
“Yeah. We’ve got a bad apple in the barrel and no idea right now how far the rot has spread.”
Realizing the gravity of the situation, Char’s voice was low and flat. “Any suspects?”
“Yeah.” Jock said, his look direct…and meaningful.
Char read that meaning and it was a moment before she spoke.
“Anyone I know?”
***
Murphy Carlyle’s face wore a look of confused astonishment as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line.
“What do you mean there is no coroner’s report? How do you guys conduct a homicide investigation without a coroner’s report?” As he listened to the response to his question, he was joined his fellow officer, Maggie Patterson. He rolled his eyes and she grinned.
“Okay, look, can I ask you to please check with your records people again? This is pretty important to my chief and….Yeah, right. Well, thanks.” He hung up the phone with a measure of frustration. “I can’t believe those guys.” As he reached for note pad, he formally greeted his some-time partner. “Hey Maggie.”
“Hey Murph. What’s up?” Maggie asked as she took a seat at the desk facing her colleague.
“Well, the Chief asked me to retrieve some records on an out-of-town homicide from ‘96 and they send me everything but the coroner’s report.”
Maggie was arranging some items on her desk as she spoke. “Well, it’s not incomprehensible for it to have been lost. I mean…’96?”
“That’s the thing…it wasn’t lost. They never got one.”
“Never got one? Now that is strange. Why not?”
“They never requested it. The guy checked the record’s inventory and they never took receipt of a report. Seems it was an open and shut case. They had the perp dead to right. He was killed in a shoot out with the local cops. Since the case never went to a trial or an inquiry, they never requested a coroner’s report.”
“Well,” Maggie offered, “why not go to the source?”
“What do you mean?”
“Call the local coroner’s office and have them send you their copy.”
Murphy grinned as he reached for the phone book. “You’re a genius, you know that?”
Maggie shrugged, “It would have occurred to you eventually.”
“Say, what are you doing here anyway? I thought you and Bertram had the graveyard last night.”
“I did but I pulled a community relations gig for this morning. The kids at Evermore High asked me to come in and talk to them about the DARE program. You know, the Drug Abuse Resistance Education program?Figured I’d stop in on the way home.”
“Bert going with you?” Murphy asked, punching the number for the Bay City Coroner’s Office on the key pad.
“Are you kidding?” Maggie laughed, collecting her satchel and car keys. “He’d never forgive me if he couldn’t ride along. That guy eats up the attention those kids give him with a spoon. Look, I gotta run. Let me know how things turn out.”
“Will do,” Murphy said, offering a wave as she headed out the door. The click on the other end of the line, brought his attention back to the matters at hand. “Yeah, hey, good morning. This is Officer Murphy Carlyle of the Evermore Police Department. Could I speak with your chief coroner please? I’m looking for some information on a murder victim from 1996. The victim? Mary Frances Winthrop aka Frankie Frame Winthrop…Sure, I’ll hold.”
***
“…and so that’s why I’ve come to Bay City. To revisit the scene of the crime and try to put whatever unresolved feelings that I’ve been carrying around for the past 10 years to rest.” Cass offered Felicia a weak smile. “So…ready to call in your tailor and have your old friend fit for a strait jacket?”
Felicia found his remark not in the least bit amusing. “I hate that you feel you have to do this, Cass. I really hate it.”
He sighed. “Felicia, if going back is going to allow my daughter and I to move forward, how can I not do this?”
“But going through all of this again…going to those places…How could that possibly give you any peace?”
“Felicia, I can’t explain what I don’t understand myself, but somehow I just know that hidden in the details of what happened that night, is the reason for what I’m feeling right now. There’s something there that I need deal with - something that I should have dealt with years ago. I have to find out what that is.”
Felicia studied her friend in silence, concern and worry etched on her own features. Finally she gave an exasperated sigh. “Alright then, but there is no way you are doing this alone.”
“Felicia…”
“No Cass. Frankie was as big a part…well almost as big a part…of my life as she was yours. And she would never forgive me if I wasn’t there to keep an eye on you. So consider me your shadow. Get it?”
Cass smiled softly. “Got it.”
Felicia nodded firmly. “Good.” She let a moment pass, before posing her question carefully. “So what do we do? What’s the first step?”
“I need to go back home,” he said simply, quietly.
Felicia stated the obvious somberly. “You mean the house you and Frankie shared.”
“Yeah.”
Felicia looked down. “Cass, I’m not sure that seeing the house now would give you any comfort. I’m not sure it would even be safe.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, since the last owners, the Jacobson’s, divorced, the house has been abandoned. It’s not the house that you remember.”
Cass felt a momentary flash of anger. “Abandoned? That big old beautiful house?”
“According to the Jacobson’s that big old beautiful house was a colossal disaster. Pipes breaking. Ceilings leaking. According to Fred Jacobson, you could fly a kite in the drafts. They never could find a buyer.”
Cass grew wistful. “Somehow I’m not surprised. That house was held together by the love. Fredrick and Juliette demanded it.”
“Funny you should say that. Fred said it was because he was cursed.”
“Cursed?”
“Mmhmm. Fred said the house started to fall apart the day he got caught with his secretary.” She smiled unsympathetically, “Cosmic payback he called it.” Serious once more, Felicia leaned forward. “You’re really sure you want to do this?”
Cass nodded. “I have to. In order to close that chapter of my life - for myself and for Charlie - I have to face that reality once and for all. I have to find out what happened to my wife.”
***
Dumbfounded, Charlotte looked at Jock.
“You can’t be serious. Paul Donovan? OUR Paul Donovan is a drug smuggler?”
Jock held up a hand. “Correction. Suspected drug smuggler. At this point all we’re working on is flimsy circumstantial evidence and my gut feeling. Donovan’s continued association with some pretty shady characters…his movements since he got back from Afghanistan…his sudden desire to fly under the radar as far as his superiors are concerned…all of this leads me to believe that he’s into more than just harbour security.”
Char shook her head slowly, still stunned by the allegations Jock had shared. “I can’t believe it.”
“Good,” Jock said firmly. “Don’t believe it.”
Char was somewhat taken aback. “What?”
“Don’t believe it. Don’t exhibit anything but absolute confidence in Donovan until we have proof that he’s using his position as an OSEC operative to move heroin from Afghanistan to the U.S. Any indication otherwise and you’ll totally blow your cover. And if he is dirty, he’ll either sanitize his operation or run to where we’ll never find him.”
Char nodded in agreement. “But why assign me to this case? I’m a desk jockey; an intelligence analyst. You’ve got trained field ops with ten times the experience in surveillance.”
“I think you know why. Donovan has been, well, interested in you since you came to the London office.”
“And how would you know that?” Char asked irritation clearly evident in her tone.
“Please Char, spare me the righteous indignation. I couldn’t care less about the romantic comings and goings of my staff – unless they present either a risk or an opportunity to our work.” Thoughtfully raising his eyebrows with a shrug he added. “But if I’ve read you wrong and you are in fact interested in this guy as a potential…”
“Whoa!” Char cut him off. “Hold it right there. I never said I had any…I mean, if you think that I could actually be involved with a guy like Donovan…Drug dealer or not, the guy is worm.”
Jock suppressed a grin. “A worm that happens to have taken a shine to your apple, pal.” He ignored the narrowed, hostile look Char shot him. “So…are you up for this? Are you willing to get close enough to help us hook a worm?”
Char looked at Jock a moment and then stood and turned away from his gaze. She thought about what the assignment might entail. She considered carefully the consequences of living a lie as she sought to prove or disprove the allegations against a colleague. And she thought about how this could impact upon her own life – such as it was.
For the past six years, Char had fought to carve out something real for herself in a world of unknowns...tried desperately to fill that aching void deep within. Nothing had worked. Her past was lost to her – that she had accepted. But it was the emptiness, that ever-present sense of longing; that she could not escape.
Standing there now, she resolved to fill that emptiness with a new sense of purpose. She turned to face her mentor and friend.
“I’m in.”
Jock took a moment before nodding. “Okay. We’ll start pulling a support team together immediately. I’ll put that together myself. We’re dealing with an internal matter here and this could blow up in all our faces so everything is on a need-to-know only basis. Be here tomorrow morning at 6 am for full briefing.”
Char nodded and turned to go.
“Char?”
She paused.
Jock’s face had softened with concern. “Char, I need to know that you can handle this; that there are no distractions, nothing precluding your carrying out of this assignment.”
Char faced him deliberately. “Nothing.”
Jock watched her leave then turned his chair toward the window, looking without seeing, the expanse of London before him. Together, he and Char were about to uncover all of Paul Donovan’s dirty little secrets. Together they would reveal all the lies; document all the deceptions.
But what of his own?
Jock rose from his chair and moved to stand before a non-descript painting hanging upon the wall. He removed it from its hook, revealing the safe behind. Quickly dispatching with the combination, he opened the safe and pulled out a thick file folder upon which was stamped the most dire of warnings: Contents Classified. Most Secret.
Closing the safe, he returned to his chair, setting the folder on the desk before him. Pulling back the manila cover, he confronted the neatly-typed cover page with the words “Mary Frances ‘Frankie’ Frame” in bold print. Attached with a paper clip in the upper right-hand corner was a photo of the woman known to everyone but himself as Charlotte Winslow.
Jock laughed dryly to himself. Everyone, that is, but a husband, a daughter and God only knew how many family members and friends. They would recognize the bulk of the contents of this folder as their memories of one lost to them years before. The rest of it, those added pieces of data, were Jock’s memories alone – a catalogue of his lies and his deceptions.
Closing the cover, he picked up the folder and turned in his chair. Reaching for the waste paper basket, he placed it by his feet and retrieved a Zippo lighter from his pocket. With a stroke of his thumb, the blue spark ignited into a flame and he neared its glow to the corner of the file. Suddenly pausing, he considered first the folder and then the flame.
These were his secrets to keep; the details of the actions of one sworn to protect the integrity of his assignment and his task masters. The written record was irrelevant to Jock for every one of those secrets; every one of those details was indelibly printed upon his memory – every lie tattooed upon his conscience. Destroying the file was meaningless to Jock and of no consequence to his superiors. It was of no value to anyone.
Except….
With a sound akin to that of a gunshot, the lid of the Zippo snapped shut, killing the flame. Jock stood and hastily returned the file, locked the safe and re-hung the painting.
Taking no time to rethink his decision, Jock walked quickly from the office, his secrets still safe in their dark hiding place where no one could find them.
***
Murphy tapped loudly upon Chief Carson’s door then waited for the responding, “What?!” He opened the door and stepped inside.
“Chief? You gotta minute?”
Ben scowled without looking up from his paperwork. “What do you want, Murphy?”
“It’s the Frankie Frame homicide report.”
Ben was suddenly attentive. “You got everything?”
“Everything there was.”
Ben frowned darkly at the implied meaning in Murphy’s tone. “What do you mean ‘everything there was’? Did you get the complete investigation report or not?”
“Chief, you said that this case was solved, right? That there were no loose ends?”
“It was open and shut, Murphy. I told you that.”
“Chief, I don’t think this thing is as ‘open and shut’ as it appears to be.”
Ben stood angrily. “Murphy, what the hell are you talking about? If you’ve got something to say, then just say it.”
“You’re not gonna like this Chief.”
“MURPHY!”
“Okay, okay.” Murphy soothed. “Look Chief, in order to nail down a homicide you’ve gotta tie a suspect to motive, means and opportunity, right?”
“I don’t need a lesson in police investigation, Murphy. Get to the point.”
“Well, the Bay City cops had all of it. The suspect Fax Newman tracked down and murdered Frankie Frame to recover evidence of previous crimes. The Bay City PD records show they had this Newman guy dead to rights as Frankie Frame’s murderer – except for one thing.” Murphy paused briefly for effect – an effort lost on his commanding officer.
“I swear to God Murphy if you don’t….”
“They didn’t have Frankie Frame’s body. Chief, there’s no coroner’s report. There is no record of Frankie Frame body ever having arrived at the coroner.”
Ben Carson looked at him in stunned silence. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Murphy, are you telling me that…” Ben’s words trailed away in disbelief.
“…the Bay City coroner lost a body – or Frankie Frame is still alive.” |
