Days’ Fanfiction: A Delicious Spin on Who Killed Charlie Dale

Mysterious Ways!

By Wayne-Daniel Berard

You’ve loved Wayne-Daniel’s fanfiction in the past, including Xander’s new company which resurrects the dead, and Susan getting a conjugal visit with Brady in Statesville. Now we have an all-new one for you which will blow your socks off. This one is a twist on Days of our Lives’ whodunit storyline, giving us a look at who might have actually killed Charlie Dale if Wayne-Daniel was writing that story! Plus, remember nurse Maxine Landis? Who doesn’t miss Maxine? So many still talk about her that you guessed it. She plays a part in the story!

Scene: Salem cemetery

The crowd around the freshly dug grave is sparse. Ava is there with her surviving son. Steve stands beside them, wanting to support Tripp. Kayla had debated whether to join them, considering her absolute antipathy for Ava, but felt like she had ground to make up with Tripp. Charlie had been his brother, after all.

It is raining and miserable out. The mourners (if one could call them that) huddle under dark umbrellas. At the head of the grave, a clergy person stands, with an assistant of some sort holding an umbrella over them. All wear black masks.

“Almighty Father, Compassionate Mother,” the minister begins. It was a woman’s voice. “We commend the soul of our brother, Charles, into your loving care, and his body to the earth. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Hold not his failings against him, oh God, but may his eternal process of becoming continue unto the world to come, bringing him at last to peace and fulfillment in your promise of forgiveness and grace. Let us all say, ah-men.”

“Ah-men,” all respond.

Slowly, those present began to trickle off, except for Ava, who stands, a solitary figure in black, at the foot of her son’s grave.

“Mom?” Tripp asks her.

“I just need a few moments alone, Honey,” Ava responds.

“I’ll be in the car,” Tripp nods and exits.

Ava lowers her head. For a moment, there is silence. Then a voice off-camera says, “I’m very sorry for your pain.”

Ava looks up. An umbrella in front of her gradually lowers. The face is young and male, but hidden. Slowly, he removes his mask.

“Joe?!” Ava is dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Joey smiles genuinely at Ava. “Are you ok?”

“What . . .?” Ava can hardly get the words out. She takes down her mask. “What are you doing here? I’d heard you were in Portland with your sister?”

“I was,” Joe replies. “But I talk with my Mom and Dad all the time, of course. I flew out late last night. Charlie was Tripp’s brother, and I wanted to be here for him. And for you.”

“For me?!” Once more Ava is astonished. “After what I did to you? How can you not hate me?”

“What about what I did to you?” Joey answers. “Do you hate me, Ava?”

“Of course not,” she responds.

“Then, there you go.” Joey turns on that smile again. “Prison gives you lots of time to soul-search, to figure out what’s important. And who.”

“Brother Joseph?” a voice from behind intervenes. “Is everything alright here?”

It’s the minister. She steps forward; one can see now that she is an African-American. She removes her mask.

“Aren’t you Maxine, that nurse from the hospital?” Ava asks.

“I was,” Maxine replies. “But I left nursing to enter Divinity School. I’m an Episcopal priest now. You can call me Mother Maxine.”

(Note: the character would still be played by the original actress, Aloma Wright).

“And you called him, ‘Brother Joseph?’” Ava raises one eyebrow.

“Brother Joseph is in our seminary,” Maxine replies. “We got to know each other when I was doing prison ministry. He’ll make a fine priest one day. He’s assigned to our Salem parish, All Saints, for his field study. I’ve just been called as Rector there.”

“Do your parents know?” Ava asks. “And aren’t they Catholic?”

“Oh, I know they’ll support whatever I choose,” Joey says. “They’re great that way. Besides, God is God, and I wanted to serve him AND have a wife and family. My folks will understand.”

“I should get going,” Ava is clearly non-plussed by all this. “Your brother’s waiting in the car.”

“Again, I’m sorry for your pain,” Brother Joseph puts out his hand. “I know what it’s like to feel lost. Let’s have coffee and talk soon?”

Scene and times change. The next day, outdoor cafe, Horton Square.

Ava is sitting at a table sipping at her cup. She is conservatively dressed, still in black. Joey comes over and pulls out a chair.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” he says. Joe is dressed in a light blue suit, blue clerical shirt, and white collar often favored by Episcopal clergy.

“Baptismal class went a little longer than usual. Fussy babies!”

“Charlie was an extremely fussy baby. At least for the little time I had him.” Ava shakes her head to herself. “Tripp was an angel.”

She looks across at Joey.

“I’m still not sure why I accepted your invitation,” she admits. “Curiosity, I guess?”

“Curious how?” Joey offers.

“Can someone really change their lives — their self — that drastically? Even if they want to? I mean, Joe, you killed me, for all you knew. Now you’re going to be a priest?”

“I think you may have the wrong idea about change. I know I did,” Joey confesses.

Ava looks quizzical.

“Mother Maxine helped me see that God doesn’t expect perfection. Actually, he uses what we often see as our faults to increase his kingdom.”

Ava leans back and fixes the young seminarian with a doubtful look. “Oh, I doubt even God could use all my faults for anything!” she says.

Joey leans forward and lowers his voice. “Really? Well, tell me honestly: Did you want Charlie dead?”

Ava stiffens up.

“I’m not an undercover cop,” Joey hastens to add. “And I might not be ordained yet, but clerical confidentiality still applies to seminarians. I can’t tell anyone anything you tell me. Besides, I know you didn’t do it.”

Ava seems to regain some of her old swagger. “Ok, yeah. Charlie was my son, but he was a rapist and a psychopath who threatened to kill Tripp and me. That’s my fault, I know. I have a lot to repent for. But yes, I wanted no one else to suffer at Charlie’s hands. I wanted him dead — but what makes you so sure I didn’t do it? You think you know me so well, do you?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I do.” Joey’s eyes sparkle. “I think I know you from the heart-out, so to speak. But that’s not why I’m sure you didn’t kill Charlie. It’s because I know who did.”

Ava sits bolt upright. “Who?! Who killed my son? Oh, wait! ‘Clerical confidentiality,’ right.” And she smirks at Joey.

Joe shakes his head. “Not on this case,” he says. “I know who killed Charlie Dale because — it was me.”

— This would seem like a good time for a commercial break! When we return . . . —

“What?!!” Ava is getting loud. “YOU killed my son? Why, for God’s sake?!”

“Interesting choice of words!” Joey replies, “but keep your voice down. Where’s a nice sound-proof confessional when you need one?!”

“This isn’t funny, Joe,” Ava retorts.

“Mother Maxine likes to say, ‘Honey, Life is a joke, but God only knows the punchline! ‘ I heard the whole story from my parents. Charlie raped my cousin and was getting away with it. He was coming after my brother. And he was going to murder you, to keep you off the witness stand. Be honest with your confessor, Ava — weren’t you planning on taking care of Charlie yourself, until someone did it for you?”

Ava pauses a minute. “Can I plead the Fifth with God?” she asks.

“Fifth commandment? That’s ‘Thou shalt not kill,’” Joey laughs. “I think you’re better off with the Eighth — the one about false witness. Just tell me the truth, Ava. You can trust me; I’m certainly trusting you.”

“Okay, yeah,” Ava sighs. “I was going to kill Charlie myself. But if you knew that, then why do anything? I’m a pro, after all. Why not just leave it to me?”

“For the same reason I asked for this assignment in Salem,” Joey reaches across and places his hand lightly on hers. “Because I still love you, Ava. I always have.”

“God’s balls, Joe!” Ava pulls her hands away.

“Not yet, but I’m working on it!” Joey laughs out loud. “Look, I know what you’re thinking. But I’m not a stalker. I’m not obsessed. I just truly love you, Ava. And we protect the ones we love from risk. Like you were going to do for Tripp. Who was ever going to suspect me? Everyone agrees; Charlie got what he deserved. I was an instrument of God’s compassionate justice — justice for Allie and compassion for you. My conscience is clear, and Ava, my heart is full.”

“No, no, no, no!” Ava stands up. “I thank you, Joey, for” — she looks around warily — “for the damage control. But you and I? It would never work!”

“And why not?” Joe just smiles endearingly up at her.

“The age difference, for one thing!”

“Talk to Kate Roberts and Jake Dimera,” Joey keeps smiling. “I understand they’re doing ok?”

“But — I slept with your father?” Ava crinkles her nose. “How could we ever be . . . intimate?”

“Ask John and Brady Black, and Kristen Dimera!” Joey replies. “Doesn’t have to be a problem, unless we make it one.”

“Kayla would freak!” Ava looks away, but there is a slight and satisfying smile on her face.

“Thought that would be a plus for you?” Joey grins wider.

“Ok, look!” Ava collects herself. “I’m NOT talking with you about this! Thanks for the coffee, but I gotta go! If I’m going to turn my life around, I need to find a job, not to mention somewhere to live.”

“Actually, that’s the official reason for this meeting,” Joey responds. “Mother Maxine wants to offer you the job of Administrative Assistant/HouseKeeper at All Saints. Part of our Parish Outreach Program. Plus, it turns out, Maxine can’t boil water! I assured her you were a great Italian cook. Oh, and it comes with a room in the parsonage.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Ava tucks in her chin, and eye-balls the man in the collar.

“Never kid about gnocchi!” Joey laughs. “And I promise to be good. ‘Love is patient,’ after all.

“Me! Living and working in a church?! The whole thing’s ridiculous!” Ava says.

“Worked for my cousin Eric and Nicole,” Joe gets up to leave. “Besides, got lots of other options, do you? Move in anytime.”

“Wait, didn’t they end up getting mar —” but Joey’s walked off. Ava sees he’s left a key at his place at the table. She picks it up.

“First church-key I’ll ever have that didn’t open a beer!” she laughs to herself. Then she tucks it down the front of her shirt, smiles, and struts off.

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