He didn't know why he did it. It was a nonsensical choice, the opposite of everything he had ever learned in the Special Forces. It was almost as if he was possessed by the spirit of his mother. He could hear her voice in her head, as she led him through the routine, just like she had when he was little. Oh, those days were the best days, his mom, in her sober moments, in the yard of the house, teaching Joe and Violet the routine that they would perform every year for the Christmas pageant.

He remembered how their little circus number had made Randy feel uncomfortable. They had always laughed at him for it, but he could see the deep unease in his eyes when they did it. Right now, Randy thought he was in control, covered in blood, holding Bill's old gun steady on the pair of them. Gloating.

He whispered into Violet's ear, "remember the lift."

A flash of understanding entered into her tear stained, shocked eyes, and all she had to do was blink to tell him she knew what he wanted. And then, with a tensing of his muscles and an effortless grace on her part, they started the routine.

Randy

Reunion

"What do you mean, all this?" Asked the Inspector.
"Rings, dwarfs, keys, shots in the dark, I'm tired . . . you know Inspector, I'm sure I've seen you somewhere before . . .
"Erm . . . well, yes, we were at school together . . . but I doubt you'd remember me . . .
Joe looked more closely at the Inspector.
"Monica Smith-Jones!!!" He exclaimed, nearly knocking his drink off the table
"Yes, that's right, Swotsy Mondy . . . " Monica reddened and turned away from Joe trying to hide her embarrassment.
"Oh, my God, you've changed. Filled out a bit as well. Didn't you used to have a crush on me?"
"Erm . . . well . . . I think we ought to talk about the case, I am on duty you know. Perhaps we can put our minds together and work it all out."
"Perhaps we can," whispered Joe as he leant across the table and covered Monica's hand with his, "perhaps when this is all over we can . . .