“Now Derek,” Ralph said as he walked over to the counter to retrieve a fresh Arthur Avenue cigar and a book of matches, “this whole case is stuffed to the rim with things that don’t make much sense.” Ralph paused, introduced flame to his cigar’s end and was soon billowing out grayish smoke into the humid air of the Adirondack lodge’s entry way. “But, before we get further into discussing the finer points of this case, you said something that caught my interest.”

Derek had stood up and was tracing the scar of his left cheek gently with his fingers. He knew he was tired and that his mind wasn’t as sharp as he needed it to be. As he paced the entry area of the lodge, he struggled to piece together the time frame of the last several hours.

“Are you planning on pretending that I am not here in this same room as you or are you just building up something brilliant in that freelancing mind of yours?” Ralph said.

“I’m sorry. What did you ask me?”

“Actually I have yet to ask you anything, but I am fixin’ to as soon as you appear ready to be asked a question.”

“I just can’t figure this out. I must be missing something. But, go ahead and ask me your question.”

“You said during your little ramble a moment ago about some note that was left for you at the rental car desk. I sure would like to know what that note said and who gave it to you.”

The smoke from Ralph’s cigar was quickly replacing the fresh mountain air. Derek moved over to the main door, opened it, and took a deep breath of non-cigar smoke filled air.

“The note just said ‘Welcome to Albany, Mr. Cole,’ and I have no idea who wrote it. The only person who knows that I flew into Albany was my client.”

“Any chance your client left that note?” Ralph asked, thankful for the open door but not as thankful as he was for the finely crafted cigar he held between his stubby and overly hairy fingers.

“Possible, but doesn’t make any sense. If he left the note for me then he did so assuming that I would suspect that it was him.”

“Someone else must have known about your travel plans?”

“US Airways and Hertz. That’s about it.”

Ralph checked the time on his watch. “What time did your flight leave Chicago?” he asked.

“Just before ten last night.”

“And when did your plane land?”

“Around midnight. Got to the Hertz desk twenty minutes after that. I asked the clerk who the note came from but he had no idea. Think it could have been Alexander? But, how the hell would he know I was headed to Albany and was renting a car from Hertz? Had to have been my client or someone my client told that I was coming here. Must have been.”

Ralph drew softly on his cigar and watched Derek struggle to figure things out. For his entire working career, Ralph had been in law enforcement. He had developed the ability to read people that others who worked with him both envied and were cautious of.

Though he knew that allowing Derek access to information about the case would violate nearly every rule in the book, he also knew that his department lacked the resources and experience to solve the murders. The state police were involved and certainly didn’t need Ralph’s or his department’s assistance, but Ralph liked to see things through himself. He never liked when another department, be it a federal, state, or city department barged in and took over an investigation.

As Derek continued his thought-laden pacing, Ralph felt that Derek could be trusted and that there was something about him, something that made breaking the protocols, rules, and standard operating procedures worth the risk.

“Well, let me ease your mind about one of the options you have. It wasn’t Alexander, and I’ll show you why.”

Ralph waved a single hand towards Derek, inviting that Derek follow. They walked deeper into the lodge, through the great room that in the daylight would offer spectacular views of Piseco Lake and the surrounding mountains. They finally came into a small, windowless room. The room was decorated with countless pictures of who Derek assumed to be William Straus.

Ralph took a seat behind the blonde wood desk that was entirely too large for the small room, opened a desk drawer, and pulled out a four-inch thick manila folder.

“I have made a few mistakes in my career,” Ralph said as he held the folder out in front of him, “and I sure do hope that what I am about to do here is not gonna be another one. Whether or not it is a mistake is entirely up to you, Mr. Cole.”

“Is that the case file?” Derek asked.

“Not exactly,” Ralph said as he dropped the heavy folder on to the desk, sending dust into an immediate flight. “This here is a little something that those state police investigators overlooked. Now, I’m thinking about showing you some very interesting things I’ve found in this folder, but I need to make sure my impression of you is accurate.”

“Ask me anything you want.”

“Ya see, Mr. Cole, I wasn’t a 100% forthcoming about my feelings on freelancers. Fact is, I often wished I could bend the rules a tad. You know, here and there.”

“In my experience, you’re not alone,” Derek said in a measured response.

“Now I may have actually bent some of those rules over the years but always did so when my instincts suggested that them rules needed a little flexibility. So since I am pretty much alone on this investigation, and the state police see me as someone just to keep informed, I am going to include you into this investigation.”

“I appreciate your trust.”

“You need to catch some shut eye?”

“Eventually, but I’m more interested in seeing what’s in that file first,” Derek said as his eyes grew hungry at the idea of reading the contents of the file.

“Well, I do. So I’m going to leave this file right here on this goofy-looking desk and go find a place to sleep.” Ralph stood and hitched his pants over his belly. “I want to show you a few things first that I want to pay particular attention to.” Ralph opened the file and thumbed through a few sheets until he pulled out a group of photographs. “You take a good look at these, and I’ll bet you’ll understand why I don’t believe your mysterious note leaver wasn’t Alexander.”

As Ralph quietly left the small office, Derek moved to the more comfortable chair behind the desk. He gave a quick glance at Ralph.

“Thanks for not shooting me earlier,” he said.

“Well, I imagine that would have not been an enjoyable event for you. But, there’s still time, I imagine. Still time.”

As Ralph left in search for a bed that would be kind enough to allow him a few minutes of sleep, Derek dropped his eyes to the series of photographs laying on the desk in front of him.