CHAPTER NINETEEN: Let Her Go

"But what frightens me the most," Janelle creeched all breathless, her velvety-brown glazzies seeming huge in her lovely pale litso, "is that Sir Humphrey and those government bratchnies – sorry, sorry, I meant to say government doctors – might actually have killed this criminal Alex for his organs."

Tell her the truth.

Frank Alexander frowned, as if some rude interrupting veck was creeching strange slovos into his ooko or ear. But the Red Lion Tavern was empty. There was Frank, and the lovely and courageous Janelle, and then there was bolshy big muscle-man Ray, the bar man. But he was busy like mopping the barroom floor some distance away.

"The government didn't kill that wretched boy," the rugged writer veck forced himself to say, looking deep into Janelle's innocent brown eyes. "I killed him."

"Sir?" Janelle felt like a cold chill run down her back. Frank was looking so grim and hard, his stern litso creased in like a million lines of frowning bitterness and guilt. For a moment she was poogly, wondering what he might do to her if he knew all the things she'd done. But then she remembered all the like hints that poor old Sheila had dropped about poor Frank going a bit bezoomny after what those horrible malchicks did to his first wife or zhena. "Oh, sir, I know that you only did what you did to protect her. Your wife, I mean." And she reached out lovely with her soft white rooker, covering his on the rough wooden table.

Tell her the whole truth, brother.

"Well, now. Would you two lovebirds care for another drink?" This was Ray, the huge bar man, who had finished his bit of cleaning and ittied over skorry, wiping his beefy bolshy rookers on the grazzy old woman's apron that he wore.

"Whiskey." Frank didn't even look up. His glazzies were locked on Janelle like he had to memorize her lovely litso.

"No more for me, thanks." Janelle was all charm, giving the big burly working veck her most dazzling smile. "I want my wits sharp when I go back to Rotherwood Manor."

"You're not going back." Frank looked stern at Janelle. "Don't you understand who these people are? What they would do to you if they knew you were trying to expose them?"

"But the news files and medical records are all so old!" Janelle waved her slim rooker, looking a bit like posh Lady Margaret. "They were buried down in the basement. Nobody saw me take them. Besides, if this Alex was not killed by the state, Sir Humphrey and his zhena have not done murder or any crime at all. They just lied about needing me!"

"Oh, they need you, all right," Frank replied, very grim. "You've got a body any sick old dinosaur would kill for."

"But Sir Humphrey is the one who's sick." Janelle frowned, thinking. "And all this time I thought he really wanted my help to get better, instead of just buying a new body. It's disgusting!" She took a deep breath. "I know it's right for you to expose them, but before you do I want to talk to Sir Humphrey all on my oddy knocky. I trusted him. I cared about him! And all the time he let me think he was sick, and in trouble, and needed me. I feel so angry I could just – oh!"

Janelle stopped govoreeting just then, sisters, because she felt so angry that she felt she might be sick. She actually got out of her seat and tottered a few steps towards the door, her high-heels click-clicking on the barroom floor. But Frank was right behind her.

"Yes, that's it," he hissed into her ooko, as she stood in the doorway trembling. "It's not enough to see justice done; you have to make that old man suffer. Just the way I had to make Alex suffer long after my wife was dead. Hate is the only reason for anything I've done, Janelle. Don't let it destroy you too."

"I'm going, Frank. Get out of my way." The beautiful devotchka did not think she could do it, but somehow she pulled free of the man's strong grip on her rooker and ittied off alone into the dark winter nochy.

"Janelle, wait! Please! Come back!" Frank tried to follow, but a huge pair of rookers seized him from behind.

"Let her go, mate." Ray the barman dumped the middle-aged writer into a chair. "You did good to tell her the truth. Now you've got to let her find out the rest of it on her own."

"But she's in danger!" Frank looked up at the burly barman. "Ray, we've got to get up there. Don't you understand? They won't stop with Alex. They're after Janelle's body too!"

"Right," Ray said. "But it's like you told me long ago, brother. We've got to have might on our side as well as right. So let's call in a few favors, shall we?"

A/N: Sorry it's been so long between chapters, sisters. Hope you enjoy, and please review! BTW, Ray is not in the movie or the book. He's an original character, but based very closely on Ray Stevenson, the amazing English actor who played Titus Pullo in the HBO Series ROME!