James Bean returns from Vietnam wounded in body and spirit. Ten years on the Los Angeles police force; trying in vain to put and keep pimps, pushers, molesters, and murderers behind bars, completes the job of demoralizing him. The final blow comes when Detective Bean is ambushed and wounded in a shoot-out in a dark alley. After returning fire, he discovers that he has killed a twelve year old boy.

His friend and mentor Chief Hillory Gibson gets him a transfer to Gainesville, a small town located close to Lake Tahoe and Reno, Nevada. The plan is to get well and get rid of his blinding headaches in the quiet rural atmosphere.

However, things aren't as 'laid back' in the sticks, as Bean had anticipated. In his very first case, a psychopathic killer tricks Bean into killing the woman that he was trying to protect.

In the following series of intriguing but stressful cases, Bean learns of the existence of 'The Weed Whackers'. They are a small group of people claiming to be The Fallen Angels. Their purpose is to weed out the bad seed that they, themselves, have sown. His skepticism is shaken when he talks over old times with his old Vietnam buddy, Brad Grimes. Because -- Brad is wearing someone else's body.

The final episode takes place at Hickory Dickory Dock. The Syndicate and Bean's arch enemy plot to frame Bean for murder and drive him insane to get control of the evidence which Bean had secreted away. The final confrontation entails Bean almost being drowned and fighting for his life against crooked Vegas Cops and out-of-control hit-men for the Mob.

One of the memories James Bean carried with him, when he left high school, was the vision of his fat Civics and Government teacher, Ms. Greenwell. She was standing at the blackboard upon which she had written,

The lesson was -- that the proper blend of both was workable and endurable in any Democratic society.

Unfortunately, idealistic, young James was not prepared for the world into which he graduated. He found a crime laden world filled with violence, overloaded courts, and plea bargaining. The scales of justice appeared to be completely out of adjustment because they seemed to be permanently tilted in favor of the criminals.

He enrolled at Wayne University to study for his law degree. Thinking that law would be the best way for him to set things right and restore order to this chaotic World. He soon found, to his disgust, that law was one of the main culprits in the scenario.

Law had no absolutes, no black versus white, only degrees of grey. It made him physically ill, and he quit school after only six months. He was immediately drafted into the United States Army.

James Bean returned from Vietnam a very disillusioned young man. He had seen enough violence and death to last any young idealist a lifetime. He had been married, wounded, and widowed before he was twenty-one.

He was discharged in November of 1973; then, after trying several jobs, he took the entrance examination for The Los Angeles Police Department. With his high scores and his veteran's preference, he was soon busy at the police academy.

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He met his first friend and mentor a few days after graduation. He was assigned to the 77th precinct and was to report to Hillory Gibson. Hillory was the Captain of the 77th, and everyone called him Hill -- not out of disrespect, just friendly affection.

Hill was big and black and was more of a coach to his men than a superior officer. He liked Hillory and respected him from the moment they met, and Hillory evidently felt the same because over the next ten years, they became very close.

Ten years of pimps, prostitutes, pushers, molesters, and murderers completed the demoralization of James Bean. He started getting blinding headaches whenever one of his arrests was plea bargained away, or when a violent criminal got off over a technicality.

The doctors could find nothing organically wrong with him, and the Department Psychologist diagnosed it as stress related. He said it was similar to war-time battle fatigue and suggested a long rest.

The decision was finalized for him the night he was pinned down in an alley by three gunman ...

Officer James Bean knew the liquor store on the corner of Western Avenue and 107th street; it had been robbed before. He was the first one on the scene, and he was driving flat out with the siren on; the 'robbery in progress' call had included 'shots fired'.

The store was visible a block away; it stood out in a pool of light amid the darkness as he approached down Western. Halfway down the next block, two figures were walking down the empty sidewalk, and Bean stepped on the gas and drove on past the liquor store and through the red light. He glanced to his right as he passed the storefront; no one was visible inside. The two males bolted at the sound of the engine, but the police cruiser was faster. Jim brought the car to a halt in the middle of the street just ahead of them. They turned, ran back up Western toward the liquor store, and Jim grinned.

In moments this place would be swarming with cops; these two were running right into the arms of the law. But the grin faded as they crossed Western and disappeared into an alley. He grabbed his radio and bailed out after them.

As he entered the alley, he crouched low and hugged the wall. He could see the hazy outline of two figures running toward Adams Street. He straightened and ran after them, paying little attention to the trash bin in the alley where the third was waiting.

He wasn't aware of the trap until he felt the impact of the first bullet hitting his left shoulder. The second hit the wall where his head had been a moment before, and when the gunman raised up to shoot again, he fired and hit him in the throat. The other two heard the approaching sirens and escaped out of the other end of the alley.

When help arrived and they shined their lights on the fallen gunman. Jim looked down into the face of a twelve year old child. He started crying and couldn't stop for days until finally, Chief Hillory talked him into a fishing trip.

Hillory took him to his favorite fishing hole just North of Gainesville. It was called, Lake Squiggly. The boat dock, concession stand, and RV park were called, Hickory Dickory Dock, and the proprietor, Ollie Dobson was an old friend from WWII.

This was Hillory's sanctuary. His hiding place when the job became overwhelming. They rented a boat and once out on the lake, Hillory took a deep breath, looked over at the brooding James Bean -- sitting lost in thought, lines of pain etched on his face. Hillory shook his head sadly, and started talking,

"Jim, old friend, you gotta get out of L.A.; that damn cesspool is eating you alive. This time all you were puking onto the sidewalk was your dinner -- soon it'll be your mind and soul. If you don't fire first, you're dead. If you do, you may be killing a kid in a dark alley with a toy gun. A man can live under that pressure only so long -- then he cracks or dies."

"Jim, for God's sake! Get out now while you are still can ... please, Jim."

Bean looked up from the dark green of the deep water he had been staring into, and when he turned to Hillory, both cheeks were wet with tears. "Hill, I hate that place so much. I don't care if I ever go back, but I don't want to let you down."

Hillory told him that one of the reasons he brought him to Gainesville was that there was one helluva good job opportunity right here in Gainesville. He said he could pull some strings, so Bean wouldn't lose accrued service time; and working for the local Chief, Bob Wells would be a snap. The entire force consisted of Wells, Phil Martin, and Gerttie the dispatcher.

He said the crime rate in Gainesville was so low that Bean would be spending more time fishing and playing checkers with Ollie than he would chasing vicious criminals.

Bean didn't feel much like resisting because his blinding headache had already subsided to an occasional dull throb. The area was so beautiful with it's tall pines it reminded him of Michigan, where he had fished as a boy.

When they got back to the dock, Hillory introduced Jim to Ollie and said that Bean was moving up and would be working in town after a couple of weeks rest. He said he wanted Ollie to fix Bean up with a decent trailer until he found a place in town.

They went into Gainesville, and Hillory introduced Bean to Bob Wells who wasted no time in making Bean feel at home. He was a short solid red-faced man with smiling eyes. He wore cowboy boots and a stetson hat, even indoors. Bean had a hunch it was to make up for his tiny, five-foot-four build.

It appeared that his change in life styles was already a done deal even before their arrival, because Wells put his hand on Bean's shoulder and led him to an office with the sign "Detective James Bean" on the frosted glass door.

Wells turned to Hillory and asked, "Don't he ever smile?"

"I'm afraid not," answered Hillory. "That's why his code name was Poker Face, when he worked undercover.

"We're all counting on you folks up here to teach our James how to smile again. His face will probably break, and you'll be picking up the pieces all the way to the Nevada line."

They returned to L.A. -- where he packed up all of his belongings, changed his address at the post-office, and moved to Lake Squiggly.

He settled into a trailer at Hickory Dickory Dock, and he soon became fast friends with Ollie Dobson. He easily fell into the restful routine of fishing, reading, and playing checkers with Ollie in the evenings. Ollie was a good cook and served heaping meals to his customers in his six table restaurant. Sometimes he would help Ollie, to speed up Ollie's return to the game.

After two weeks, he removed the sling from his left arm. The shoulder felt practically healed, and he was ready to do something to earn his keep.

Arriving at the station, he found out that Bob Wells was in Reno, and the only one present was the dispatcher. She was on the phone and watching a small TV set at the same time. He stood waiting and she kept talking until it became obvious that she had no intention of acknowledging his presence. He reached over, turned off her TV, and that got her attention. She bristled and wanted to know just what the Hell he thought he was doing.

When he told her who he was and what he was doing there, she calmed down and introduced herself as Gerttie. She said that she was the clerk, book-keeper, dispatcher, and girl-friday around there and what was a handsome hunk like him doing in Gainesville? Would he like some coffee and how did he like it?

He tried to smile and said,

"Sure, I'd love some. Make it hot and black." He looked her over, as she scurried to get his coffee. She appeared to be at least sixty, her face was as wrinkled as fine leather, and her grey hair was tied back in a severe bun. She was about five foot even and she couldn't have weighed over ninety pounds. She looked tough as nails and he made a mental promise to himself to stay on the good side of Gerttie, if there was one.

When she brought his coffee into his office, he asked her for the crime report log. She left and returned with a clipboard. On the clipboard was a sheet of lined paper, on which was written, 'Earl Duncan's chicken yard was broke into and two hens were stolen.....Billy Patterson is at it again.'

Bean read it, looked up, and said, "Well, did anyone arrest Billy Patterson, and did he have the chickens?"

"Naw, Billy's only eight years old, there's six kids in the family, and his mom has been out of work for over a month now."

Bean very carefully lined out the part about Billy Patterson and wrote in crime committed by unknown transients. Case closed. He handed back the clipboard and asked,

"Is that all that happened last night?"

"That's all that happened in the last week." She turned, looking into his eyes, muttered, "It's gonna be nice working with you Bean, but no hanky panky, you hear!"

Bean tried not to laugh, "I hear you Gerttie. It'll be tough, but I'll try to control myself."

He walked to the calendar hanging on the wall; under August 1 1985, he wrote in small print, "J Bean, first day on the job." He turned to Gerttie saying,

"Not being one to waste office supplies and with the apparently light work load, I'll just use this for a record of my activities, Okay?"

For the next year, he logged in and out on the calendar. If he went fishing, folks could check the calendar to find out where he was and if he intended to return.

Occasionally, Chief Wells would loan Bean to His friend Willie Baker, the police chief over in Reno. Sometimes, it was for additional security for a convention, or as an experienced detective working as a consultant, but -- it was in Gainesville in August of 1986, that Bean experienced the first in a series of cases that were destined to change his outlook on life.

Bean didn't view himself as others viewed him. Such a trait was shared by most of humanity. People found him friendly but distant. He could be warm and helpful, but if one looked into his cold grey eyes, some folks felt quite uncomfortable. His dark curly hair, greying at the temples, and grim thin lips, downturned at the corners, did little to encourage familiarity.

Bean, saw the world as being totally chaotic and felt that it was part of his duty to put all the pieces back in nice, straight lines and orderly piles where they belonged.

On a warm August afternoon, Bean received a phone call from a woman called Mable. This woman would cause Bean to forever question those straight lines. She cried for his help, and he promised he would, but Cain still Slew Mable.

Working with the friendly group in Gainesville was almost like being part of a large congenial family and the working atmosphere over in Reno wasn't much more formal. Even after a year, Bean was still adjusting to their laid back approach to almost everything.

Gerttie was still the dispatcher and all around girl- Friday. Her only joy in life was sending Phil Martin out to check for prowlers, chicken thieves, joy riders, and other dangerous criminals who stalked the Gainesville streets.

Bean settled easily into the slow, relaxed pace of small-town law enforcement. He had been troubled by the ills of society in the city. It had effected him to the point of ruining his health. Now one year later, as he sat at his desk and stared at his blank work schedule, the only thing troubling him was whether the fish would be biting next Saturday.

He had been fighting what had to be at least a six pound rainbow trout and was just reaching for the net, when the ringing woke him from his daydream. Damn! It was the phone ... where the Hell was Gerttie?

"Detective Bean here" he growled into the mouthpiece, "Can I help you?" Mentally, he was blaming Gerttie for his not landing that fish.

A husky female voice replied, "Yes, I would like to know how to get a restraining order issued and how to get some protection. My life has been threatened, and I'm afraid that this time -- he will kill me!"

"Slow down there, lady." Bean spoke calmly, "First, Who's trying to kill you, and are they there now?" "No, no one is here now. It's my brother, Cain. I thought he was locked up back home, but now he's found me, and I'm frightened out of my mind."

"If you have any proof that he has threatened your life, a witness or a letter -- whatever you have; bring it down to the station to me, Detective James Bean.

"If you can convince me, Lady, I'll arrange for the restraining order and serve it for you, or I can have another officer do so. Then, depending on how well this guy accepts the order, we might keep an eye on him or on you for a few days.

"Just so we have a record of this, give me your name, address, and phone number; and the name of the man who is threatening you. We also need to know where we can find him."

"I'll bring in what I can." she answered, "There are only two threatening letters and my statement, but when you hear it, I know you'll believe me.

My name is Mable Galager, I live at 1621 Oak Ave, and my number is 555-4141. I have only been in Gainesville for two months, and before that I lived in Perth, Australia.

"The person threatening my life is my brother Cain. He has tried to kill me twice before, and I have no idea where he is. I thought that he was still locked up in Australia. I'll be in to see you in the morning. Is eight o'clock too early?"

"No, that'll be just fine," Bean answered, and the line went dead.

"Gerttie! Gerttie! Where the hell are you?" Bean yelled at the empty one room office.

"Here I am, Bean. Keep yer shirt on! I just went out for coffee and doughnuts. What happened? did the phone ring and you had to answer it yerself? Big deal!"

Gerttie went over to the PBX, sat down, and grinned like an imp. She was lean, mean, and squeaky clean. She wore Granny glasses perched halfway down her nose and had her grey hair in a bun. She looked sixty but wasn't about to tell. She also knew everything about everyone in Gainesville.

"Gerttie," Bean asked, "will you check with your sources, and anyone else that you can think of. I want to find out if anyone has seen a stranger in town? He could be answering to the name Cain Galager and probably has an Australian accent. I need to find him as soon as possible. He might be dangerous."

"I'll get right on it, but to my recollection, we ain't had a stranger in town since you arrived a year ago. I'll have Phil check the motel and the truckstop. He might be holed up there."

The rest of the day slid by rather uneventfully, and as Bean was putting on his coat, ready to head out for a cold beer and his evening meal at the Grub Grotto; Gerttie stopped him, looked up at his six foot frame, and joked, "You better go feed that skinny body before it starves to death. Oh yeah, I almost forgot to tell you."

"I plum struck out on that there Cain guy that yer interested in. If he's in town, I sure can't find him!"

"That's OK Gerttie. You get an A for effort. We'll have more to go on tomorrow, after I talk to his sister." He hurried out the door in hot pursuit of Anheuser-Bush.

Bean lived alone and slept alone most of the time in his bachelor apt. He had a housekeeper that came in twice a week to take care of the laundry and to tidy up. Much to her disgust, there was usually very little to do, all Bean's books were put away in proper sequence on his library shelves, his clothes were neatly stacked in drawers or hung in the closet, dishes were washed and put away, and even the pencils were laid parallel to each other and perpendicular to the back edge of the desk.

He made her feel so unnecessary that she often threatened to refuse taking his money, if he didn't leave her something to do. Of course, she never did.

Bean wasn't surprised that women couldn't stand him. He knew enough about human beings to understand completely. His was a world of straight lines and absolutes. Even looking at an abstract or surrealist painting make him feel ill. His logical temperament was in constant conflict with any concept that accepted the existance of anything between guilty and not guilty, right and wrong, or even pregnant and not pregnant. To Bean, one always died of a fatal wound.

On the nights he had a bedmate, it usually stemmed from the right combination of beer, the moon, the mood, and the availability of Harriet, the librarian at the Gainesville Library.

The next morning, Bean read the morning paper and sipped a hot liquid that Gerttie called coffee. Phil Martin had the desk duty, and Gerttie was gossiping with somebody over the radio, when the woman walked in. Bean studied her from behind his paper as she spoke to Phil at the front desk.

She was blonde, about 140 lbs, maybe five foot six or seven, looked like maybe she worked out or was a dancer. She had blue eyes, an attractive face, although she wasn't a beauty. She gripped her purse so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Phil turned, "Hey Bean, there's a Mable Galager here to see you."

Bean stood and went over to introduced himself, then he escorted her to his desk. "Would you like some bad coffee?"

"Yes" She answered in that same husky voice, that he had heard over the phone, "Black, please. No sugar."

Once she had her coffee and appeared a little more relaxed; Bean said, "We did some checking after your call yesterday and couldn't locate anyone who had seen your brother or any other stranger in town in the last few months.

"This is a small town, and it's almost impossible for him to stalk you and not be noticed. I'll take your statement; and then, when we're through, I'll decide what our course of action will be.

"First, tell me the entire story as completely as you can. I won't interrupt, but I will be recording your statement. If I have any additional questions, I'll ask at the end. OK?" She hesitated then began,

"It's difficult to pinpoint when, but if I remember correctly, I believe Cain started hating me when I was four. Mom and Dad always were partial to me. They dressed me up and showed me off to everyone. They really spoiled me rotten, so when Cain started acted up to get attention, Mom would get embarrassed and Dad got furious. They seemed sorry he existed. They refused to let him play with other boys, and when he became unruly, Dad locked him in the closet.

"Cain blamed me for the way they treated him. To punish me, he'd bite me or pinch me, then tell Mom that I did it to myself. Mom would looked sad and cry, but Dad refused to believe him. He'd fly into a rage and lock Cain up again.

"I was eight when Cain pushed me off the dock into the river and I almost drowned. If Dad hadn't seen me go into the water and jumped in after me, I would've died.

"That was the last straw for Dad. Cain was sent away, and I took medicine for a long time to calm my nerves and stop my nightmares of drowning."

"I didn't see Cain again until I was seventeen. Wherever he went, he must've been feeding his hatred and plotting revenge.

"It was at the senior prom five years ago. I had been dating a good-looking boy named Charlie for about four months, and prom night was our big night. I had been putting Charlie off, but I knew that if I wanted to keep him I couldn't stall much longer.

"On prom night, I had planned to lose my innocence and give Charlie something to brag about to his buddies. The dance was great, and we made several trips out to Charlie's car to sample the bottle hidden under the seat. After the dance, we drove to the stadium parking lot. Charlie grabbed a blanket and the bottle, and we walked out into the football field."

"Charlie spread the blanket under the goal posts and made some remark about a final score. The night was warm, and I felt warm inside. Soon Charlie had all of our clothes off and laid them in a pile. He knelt over me, getting ready, when I heard a bottle break.

"I looked up in time to see Cain slash Charlie's throat with the broken bottle. Charlie gurgled once and fell on me ... there was blood all over me. I screamed and the more I screamed the louder Cain cursed me. He called me a harlot and a whore, then he cut my wrists with the bottle, threw it at me, and walked off. All I could do was scream, which I did until I became so weak that I fainted.

"The next thing I knew, I was in the hospital, and both my wrists were bandaged. When I remembered what happened, I started screaming again until they gave me an injection, then everything went black.

"It was almost a week before I was in any shape to answer questions. When I told the police what happened, they said they'd lock up Cain, so that he could never hurt me again. They took me to a sanitarium for rest and treatment. The doctors said that with proper care, my nightmares would go away; and in twelve to eighteen months, I could rejoin society without fear. "It didn't work out that way. After eighteen months of rest and treatment and answering questions I was released, but deep down I knew that Cain was waiting for me.

"I hid out at my aunt's in Sidney until I got a student visa, then I came to the United States. I thought I was safe -- until last week.

"When I returned from a weekend at the casino in Tahoe, I found scrawled in lipstick on my mirror the words, "I've found you at last YOU WHORE! Now, you'll get what you deserve. It was signed, CAIN.

"I nearly went out of my mind. I ran to a neighbor's house and called the police, then I waited in her apartment until officer Martin arrived. He searched my apartment, took a report, and told me to get a restraining order against Cain. Outside of that, there wasn't much that he could do.

"Yesterday, when I returned from shopping, I found the same message back on my mirror. That's when I called you.

"Needless to say, I've had new locks and dead bolts installed, but I doubt they'll stop Cain when he decides to kill me. Is there anything you can do to protect me?"

Bean steepled his fingers and leaned forward on his elbows. "I'll answer that as soon as I get a few answers of my own. If you are here on a student visa, what are you doing in Gainesville?"

"This is summer vacation. Apartments in Reno or Lake Tahoe are way beyond my budget. I have been commuting two or three times a week. To be honest, I've been looking for Mr. Right with matrimony in mind. If I married an American, I could stay in this country and be safe from Cain."

"Can you tell me the name of the sanitarium in Perth where you received treatment, as well as the names of anyone who knew where you were spending your vacation?"

"It was The Hillcrest Sanitarium, sixty kilometers from Perth." She replied, "And all the girls in my dorm at UCLA knew that I was coming here for the summer. They kidded me about my husband-hunting safari when I left."

Bean excused himself and left the room. He closely watched Mable through the window as he made several long- distance calls. The Perth police verified the story of the brutal slashing of the boy, "Charlie" and the girl, "Mable Galager" and still had a warrant outstanding for the boy, "Cain Galager" who had vanished after the murder.

The sanitarium refused to discuss details of it's patients, but the nurse admitted that Mable had once been a patient there.

Bean went back to his room and sat down. "When you told your story, you mentioned that you went to a neighbor's and used her phone to call the police.

"Cain must be watching your place to know when you are home, so do you think your neighbor would be willing to pretend to date officer Martin and take him home with her? He could slip into your apartment, and spend the night on your couch.

"It might take as long as a week, but eventually Cain will try to threaten you again or carry out his threat. I'd like to have someone there to protect you."

Mable shrugged. "I don't know. I'll call and ask her. You should talk to her, too, so she doesn't think I'm a nut."

"All right, get her on the phone, and I'll tell her the plan and verify everything. In fact, I'll suggest that she come down to the station to pick up her date."

Mable called. It took some persuasion, But when Bean finished talking to her, Mary Davis was thrilled to be part of the plan and looked forward to meeting her date.

Officer Phil Martin wasn't quite as thrilled. He already had a date, and he wasn't looking forward to baby- sitting Mable.

Bean took Phil into the other room while they waited for Mary to arrive and told him the story. By the time Bean finished, Phil had a different outlook on his assignment.

While Phil changed into street clothes, Bean reassured Mable that for at least one week, she'd have the best protection he could provide.

He'd accompany her during the day like a new boyfriend, taking her home at night, staying long enough to convince Cain they were making love, and leaving Phil with her to protect her. Bean hoped the situation would drive Cain over the edge and into action. Then Bean would be waiting for him.

Mary arrived, and Bean introduced her to Phil. "Phil, go into that apartment building with Mary and check the place out from top to bottom. Make a map showing every entrance, fire escape, roof vents, and anything else that could provide access to the building and the apartment.

"At seven this evening, you and Mary meet me and Mable at Carl's Steak House for dinner."

Phil said that he would take care of it, and he and Mary left the station holding hands and chatting like old friends.

Dinner went well that evening, both couples enjoyed their night out so much they almost forgot their real reason for being together. When they left the restaurant for the apartment building, their laughter and gaiety dwindled down to a brooding silence.

In the coming hours, they would play a deadly game of wits with a psychotic killer. The price of losing would be Mable's life.

Bean and Mable arrived first and went into Mable's apartment.

"Don't play the stereo or television," Bean said. "Phil has the place bugged, and those things would hide the sound of someone breaking in or moving around during the night. When he is at Mary's, he'll be listening. When he is here on the couch, he'll wear amplifying headphones to hear anything that moves or breathes in the room."

Mable giggled. "I hope he didn't put one in the bathroom. That would be embarrassing."

Bean read the cartoons from Readers Digest while Mable prepared for bed. When she said she was ready to try to sleep, he put his nine millimeter on the bookstand beside his chair and turned off the lights.

Sitting in the dark, he wondered if he'd be forced to use his weapon? He hoped not. The thought of it made him sick to his stomach. He'd been forced to use it in the past, and it wasn't using it that made him feel ill -- It was the moments leading up to it.

After an hour, Bean left the apartment and tapped twice on Mary's door. Phil opened the door and slipped out. Bean waited until Phil was in Mable's apartment before he left.

Nothing unusual happened over the next three days. The only progress seemed to be in the relationships of the two couples. Bean found it harder and harder to turn over the night shift to Phil.

On Friday night, after an evening of dancing and drinks, Bean and Mable arrived at her apartment feeling more than a little warm glow. They were tipsy.

After about a half hour, Bean was down to his shorts when he remembered Phil. He walked across the hall. When Phil opened the door, Bean said, "You can take the night off. I'll baby-sit."

Phil looked at Bean and laughed. " OK boss, but aren't you just a little bit out of uniform?"

Bean chuckled and returned to Mable's apartment. When he entered he heard the shower running, so he lay on the bed in his shorts and put his revolver on the night stand. He looked at it and had second thoughts, so he slid it under the bed, then He lay back, closed his eyes, and thought about what was to happen.

The room was dark with the lights out, and suddenly a figure in a duster or raincoat and a western hat rushing out of the closet. Bean cursed himself for not searching the flat when they came home and reached for his revolver.

The first shot hit him in the shoulder and knocked him off the bed. As he tried to aim the gun with his left hand, he heard someone screech, "I'll kill that whoring bitch next!" The next shot struck the wall beside his head. Phil burst through the front door and fired two shots at the figure aiming at Bean. As the man turned firing at Phil, Bean fired once, and Phil fired twice more. The man went down.

Phil turned on the lights and took one look at Bean, then shouted, "Mary call an ambulance for Jim -- he's been shot!" Phil walked to the body on the floor, bent over, and pulled off the man's hat to have a look. "Oh, God! Jim, what have we done?"

Bean crawled closer and looked. "Jesus! It's Mable. I thought she was in the shower." The pain in his shoulder combined with the agony in his brain, and he retreated into oblivion.

When Bean regained consciousness, he was in a private room at the hospital. He opened his eyes and saw Chief Wells, Phil, and a stranger standing at the foot of his bed.

"Jim, "the Chief said, "Welcome back to the world of the living. Phil gave me an unofficial report on what happened; and before you say anything, I'd like to introduce Doctor Max Rueben, from Perth, Australia.

"Dr. Rueben was fishing in Canada. If they had called him sooner, we might've been able to avoid this tragedy. He was Mable's doctor in Australia. He rushed here to try to keep her from killing again. He should tell you the rest."

Dr. Rueben smiled sadly. "Mable was born with two sets of sexual organs -- one male, one female. Unlike most hermaphrodites, she was also schizoid and the personalities of Cain and Mable were in constant conflict.

"As she approached puberty the physical conflict of glandular development added to her torment and drove both personalities insane.

"Under medication Mable prevailed, but under the influence of alcohol and with sex impending, Cain emerged filled with loathing for what Mable was about to do. He would vent his rage and frustration upon her lover by killing him. He appeared to try to kill her, but he always failed.

"He loved her too much to kill her himself, and he hated her too much to let her live. I believe he used you folks to do what he couldn't. Try not to blame yourself. You were tricked by a very sick mind. Mable would've become a serial killer if she wasn't caught soon. I rushed down here to save you -- not her."

Chief Wells turned away then paused. "Detective Bean, I trust that you and Officer Martin can come up with an official report on this -- one that'll be believable and acceptable to the media and to the shooting investigation team.

"Doctor Rueben will take care of transporting Mable's body back to Australia for burial by her family. He'll do the explaining on that end, too.

"Jim, as far as I'm concerned this case is closed."

The case might have been closed in the file entitled, 'And Then Cain Slew Mable,' but in James Bean's mind and heart it would be several years before he could put the memories to rest.

Chapter Four
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Ollie Dobson, met him in the parking lot, clucking like an old hen. He took Bean's luggage and as he walked him to his trailer, he cackled,

"I see they got you in the right wing this time! Guess you'll never learn to duck. Hey buddy, I sure hope you remembered to bring some left-hand toilet paper cause all I got around here is the right-hand stuff."

They both grinned, snorted, and then ended up laughing like a couple of silly kids. Bean thought to himself, "How the Hell can you stay down in the dumps, with someone like Ollie around?"

For the next week, Ollie fussed over Bean like a mother hen. He loaned him some suspenders so that he could easily get his pants on and off and fixed all kinds of meals that didn't need to be cut up to be eaten.

Bean's shoulder was taking longer to heal this time; so to have something to do, he started going to the Gainesville Public Library to do some studying and some research on Computer networking. The police system was going to be upgraded to the latest Novel system, and Bean didn't want to look like an idiot when he tried to use it. That's what he told Ollie. Actually, he went to see Harriet.

He met the assistant librarian, Harriet Wilson when he first came to town. She was thirty five, single, and wore thick lenses surrounded by horn-rims. She had jet black hair, prim lips with turned down corners, and to Bean's surprise; she was horny as a young billy-goat.

They hit it off instantly, she knew what she wanted and what he needed. She also made it plain from the start that there were no strings attached.

When Bean was at the lake, Ollie took care of him and in Gainesville, Harriet took over his R & R including his physical therapy. James Bean was as happy as a clam, he almost forgot why he went to the library in the first place.

After Thanksgiving day, Ollie gave up taking care of him, Bean went back to work, but Harriet continued to nurse him every chance that they got.

It had sorta tapered off to once in a while by the time July rolled around, and it was during one of those 'once-in- a-whiles' that Harriet asked,

"Do you think my money is safe in the Gainesville Savings and Loan, or should I draw it out and wait until we see what's going to happen?"

"I don't have any idea what your talking about, You must know something that I don't."

"I'm sorry, I thought that you, of all people, would know all about it."

"What? Tell me what your talking about!"

She sat up in bed and lit a cigarette, unmindful of the fact that he hated the smoke, and started,

"Agnes Butler, who works at the library, told me that her daughter, Jill who is married to Stan Gaines who runs the Savings and Loan is missing. And -- the County Sheriff is holding Stan and has him charged with murder.

"I knew that the mean bastard beat on her, but I never thought that he would be stupid enough to murder her. Agnes has told me the whole story, and it made me mad enough to wish him dead, myself; and I've never even met the man."

Bean leaned back with his hands clasped behind his head and resigned himself to listening. He knew that once started Harriet was virtually impossible to shut up.

She then told Bean the story which eventually went into his case book, as ... The Case of Jack and Jill.

-- Jack and Jill --
July 1987
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Jack and Jill were lovers till,
They were so cruelly parted.
Did Jack And Jill plot to kill?
And were the cops outsmarted?
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Harriet told Bean he might as well get comfortable because she had to tell the whole story as it happened. She said if she didn't, then he wouldn't get to see the whole picture and wouldn't understand any of it.

He mumbled, "Go to it Hon," and laid his head back on her ample bosom and closed his eyes in contentment.

She started with, "As you well know, James Bean, this is a small town and folks don't really gossip, but you can't help hearing things, can you? Agnes told me a lot of this, and people come into the library to visit a little. So I'll tell you what I know, then you can fill in the blanks by talking to some of the folks that have been involved.

(Continued in Part 2)