"Man, I really don't want to go to work," Davy Jones groaned as he put on a light jacket. "I hate it there."

"What's to hate?" asked his roommate, Micky Dolenz. He sat down on their overstuffed armchair and watched his buddy go through some last minute primping.

"The professor, for one. I despise the guy! He's just so arrogant and egotistical!" Davy swiped at his hair furiously. It never looked the way he wanted it to.

"Hmm, sounds like someone I know..."

Davy ignored him. He was too busy ranting. "Plus, he's so... so... bossy!!"

"That's cause he's your boss. Come on, it's a great job. Good pay, lots of hours, working in an educational environment... plus you're up to your armpits in beautiful college girls!" The drummer added the last part with a mischievous grin and a waggle of his eyebrows.

"I personally like the 'good pay' part of the deal," came a voice from the staircase. The two boys turned to see their third friend, Mike Nesmith, leaning nonchalantly against the banister. "Not to put any undue pressure on you, Davy, but the future of our next rent payment lies on your shoulders. You're the only one with a job and the only one who can keep us off the streets."

"Yeah, yeah..." Davy grumbled. "Why don't one of you get a job? Hey, who's driving me today?" Mike took a set of keys from his pocket and jangled them a bit.

"Let's go, shotgun. Besides, getting a job ain't as easy as you think..." He marched out the door, rattling off the difficulties one by one as Davy gave Micky as exasperated look and followed. The latter watched them go, giggling to himself.

Davy got out of the red sports car and watched as Mike drove off. He sighed and made his way to the psychology building. Everyday he came to work and everyday the professor made his life hell. The Englishman felt more like a slave than an employee. He trudged up the building steps and went into the laboratory. His boss was there already, and as soon as Davy walked in, the man turned his mean glare upon him. Professor Karabinis was tall and stern looking. His sharp nose and tufts of hair sticking out the sides of his head made him look like a skinny, disgruntled hawk.

"Late again, Jones?" he growled, trying to intimidate the smaller man with an icy glare from his beady eyes. "I don't know why I keep you around. If Seabury didn't like you so much, I'd toss you out on your head!"

Davy winced. Daniel Seabury was a colleague of Karabinis's. They had taken a liking to each other and Seabury convinced the cranky professor to keep him after he learned of the Monkees' financial trouble. He even persuaded Karabinis to use the Englishman as one of their test subjects to raise his paycheck. Davy glared back at Karabinis and snarled through gritted teeth, "Let's just get started. What do you want me to do first?" He wished Seabury were there today. The professor always picked on him more when Seabury wasn't around.

Karabinis merely snorted and started listing a bunch of chores for Davy to do, most of them involving cleaning useless parts of the lab. "Oh, and I didn't like the way you cleaned the bathrooms yesterday," he added with a smirk. "Do it again."

Davy closed his eyes and counted to ten. He turned on his heels and stormed off to the closet to get the mop and bucket. But the anger didn't fade. For the rest of the day, Davy thought about all the different ways Karabinis could die.

While Davy was away working, Mike and Micky, along with their fourth and last roommate, Peter, scoured the newspaper want ads for jobs. After finding no suitable openings, Micky threw down the paper in disgust and reached for the comics. He accidentally grabbed the local news by mistake and was about to discard it when an article caught his attention.

"Hey guys!" he called. "Look at this. Says here the college Davy's working at is starting subliminal testing."

"Subimalmal?" Mike asked, not hearing correctly.

"Suberbamnal," Micky couldn't say it a second time.

"Suberinal?" Mike tried, getting more frustrated.

"Subarnibal," Micky still couldn't do it.

"Submarine!" Peter finally chimed in after watching his two friends attack the word. Micky and Mike looked at him and gave each other let's-drop-this looks.

"What's the article say?" Mike asked.

"Says that some big company wants to start producing tapes for the subconscious mind. Self-help stuff. And the college is doing tests to make sure that kind of stuff really works." Micky looked up from the paper and grinned excitedly at his friends. "Isn't that what Davy's doing? He's one of the test subjects for that project, right?"

"Yeah. Man, if this thing works, the professor'll be a millionaire! Maybe he'll even give Davy a raise."

Micky snickered a bit. "Not likely. You know how those two hate each other. The prof will probably fire Davy the moment his experiments are done with."

"Hey guys, I isn't Davy off soon?" Peter remarked, looking at their broken clock.

"Yeah, let's go pick him up. Come on, guys," Mike stood up and stretched his lean frame.

"Group trip!" Micky squealed and jumped to his feet. He snatched the keys from Mike's hand when the Texan pulled them from his pocket. "Last one to the car gets backseat!" He dashed off, leaving Mike and Peter to fight for second place.

Micky laughed and poked at Mike as the guys made their way to the psychology building. "Come on, don't be a sore loser. Man, who knew Peter could move that fast?" That merely made Mike glower even more. He shot Peter a dirty look as the blond strolled happily up the steps.

Suddenly, a loud bang sounded from inside. All three jumped in shock, then rushed for the source, which was the laboratory. Just as they reached the doors, Davy burst out, with blood splattered on his white shirt. They all jumped back instinctively, then crowded around the shorter man, asking questions on what had happened.

"No, no, no..." Davy moaned over and over, wild-eyed and confused.

"He's in shock or something," Mike stated. "Peter, go call an ambulance. Micky, stay here with him. I'm gonna go see what happened."

The other two nodded as Mike turned and ran into the room. Everything was eerily silent. Then something caught his eye. A pool of blood stretching out from a row of large armchairs. He hesitantly moved to see between two of the chairs. In the small space laid the body of professor Karabinis. His blood slowly oozed out from a large gunshot wound in his chest.

"This is ridiculous!" Mike grumbled as the police officer led him, Peter and Micky to Davy's cell. "C'mon, Teresa! You know Davy's not a murderer."

Teresa stopped and unlocked the cell door. "I know he doesn't seem like a murderer, but I can't let my friendship with you guys blind me to the facts. He had a motive. Everyone in the psychology department knew he hated Karabinis. He had the opportunity. He was alone with the victim when the murder occurred. And he had the means. The gun is registered under his name and it has his fingerprints all over it. Only his fingerprints. Plus, he doesn't deny the charge." The three reacted in surprise. That was one fact they hadn't heard.

Davy, who had walked up to the bars, nodded as he stepped out. "She's right, guys. I didn't deny it because I don't know for sure I didn't do it."

"What do you mean, Davy?" Peter whispered. "Of course you didn't do it."

Davy sighed heavily, his shoulders slumped. "I don't remember anything that happened that night... For all I know, I really could've done it."

"But... but that's impossible!" Micky cried. "You're not a killer, Davy! There's gotta be some sort of explanation to all this! We're not gonna let you go to jail!" Davy winced as his friend's voice pitch rose higher and higher the more excited he got.

"Calm down, Micky," Mike ordered sternly. "We'll get to the bottom of this." He turned to Teresa. "You can count on it." Turning on his heels, the determined Texan marched out of the police station with his three friends following him.

Teresa looked after them and sighed. "I sure hope so..."

"Hey Mike?"

"Yeah, Davy?" Mike looked at his friend in the rearview mirror as they drove back to their pad.

"Where'd you get the money to bail me out? I heard it was a high price." Davy fidgeted a little. He hoped his friends didn't do anything drastic just to help him.

"Your friend, Seabury, loaned it to us," Micky answered. "When we mentioned we had a gig tomorrow night and we needed you. He said he was sure you'd be a man and face the courts instead of skipping out."

Mike grunted in approval. "He's a nice guy."

"Yeah, he is..." Davy leaned back and moaned softly, covering his face with his hands. "How'd I ever get into this mess? Why can't I remember anything?"

"I can answer that!" Micky announced. "It must've been such a horrible experience that your brain just blocked it out cause it doesn't want to remember."

"And I know how to solve that!" Peter suddenly cried. "Pull over, Mike!" The Texan looked at his blond friend curiously, but parked the car obediently in the first parking space he could find. Peter hopped out, and his buddies followed suit. "Look," he grinned, pointing to a large sign that read 'Dr. Hight- psychologist, therapist, hypnotist'. "I bet this guy can free up Davy's mind!"

The other three looked at Peter, then looked at each other. "Well," Davy sighed. "I guess we can at least try. Anything is better than nothing." He shrugged and walked inside.

The four boys looked up the office number of Dr. Hight and walked up the clean carpeted stairs. The building was fairly new and the smell of paint nearly overwhelmed them. On the second floor, they came to number 213.

"Well, this is the place," Mike announced. He opened the door and poked his head in. The room was pretty small, with a receptionist desk and three wooden chairs near the front and a dull yellow curtain that stretched across the room to hide the back of the room from view. The curtain was currently undrawn and the guys could see a flowery couch, and overstuffed armchair, a beaten up old coffee table, a small bookcase containing thick books and a young man with ruffled blond hair. The man turned to Mike and smiled.

"Come on in!" he urged with a kindly smile. Slight smile lines accented his eyes, making him appear older than he really was. Immediately the musicians entered and began looking around curiously. "What can I do for you boys?"

Mike stepped up to him and shook his hand. "I'm Mike Nesmith. These here are my friends- Davy Jones, Peter Tork and Micky Dolenz. And, well, we kinda have a problem..." He went on to tell Hight the details of the case so far.

Dr. Hight listened closely and nodded occasionally. "Well, that is a problem. I might be able to coax Davy's brain into releasing that memory. Sit down, son." Davy walked over to the couch and sat on it, bouncing a little before settling down. The doctor sat in the armchair and started some basic questioning about Davy's health and life style. The other three boys sat on the floor and watched with interest. Dr. Hight continued into a regular conversation with Davy, asking about his opinions on minor subjects, trying to relax the boy. A few minutes later, his patient was visibly at ease. Hight continued to drone on with his soft, comforting voice. He lit a candle and placed it on the coffee table. "Look into the flame, Davy." The boy turned his head and stared at the fire as Hight continued talking. Soon, the englishman's eye began to droop and his whole body sagged.

"Wow..." Micky whispered. "He's hypnotized or something..."

Dr. Hight smiled at the curly-haired drummer. "Yes, he's under." He turned back to Davy. "Now Davy. You are back in the psychology lab on the night Professor Karabinis was killed. Tell me everything that you see."

Davy had a content smile on his face. He opened his mouth and started talking, his voice slurred a bit. "Beanie wants me cleaning up the lab, as usual. He says I had missed a few spots in the bathroom and I have to clean it again. Better get started... I grab a scrub brush and a mop. The hours go by and I'm done. He lets me take a break. I go to the cafeteria to grab an early dinner. Seabury isn't there."

"Was he supposed to be there?" Dr. Hight interrupted.

"Sometimes we have dinner together. He's a real pal. I think he was behind in grading papers from his earlier class. He sometimes forgets to do that. After I eat, I go back to the lab. Beanie tells me to sit in one of the chairs. He put the headphones on me and starts up the music..."

"He's participating in a study of submersible messages," Micky explained, seeing the hypnotist's confused expression.

"You mean subliminal?" Dr. Hight asked.

"Yeah, that's it," grinned Peter. "Submarine."

Turning back to Davy, Hight noticed he was starting to tense just slightly. "Here's where the block begins. We're going to see how far we can get without aggravating him."

"I-I'm on my feet. When did I get up...? Th-There's a gun in my hand!" Davy's eyes opened wide, but he wasn't seeing anything except what was in his mind. "The professor looks up. He raises his arms. No! Don't move! I'll kill you! He calmly says 'Davy, put the gun down...' "

"Doc, maybe you should bring him out of it..." Mike suggested. "This doesn't look right..."

Dr. Hight nodded. "Alright." He turned to speak to Davy once more, but the boy was too far gone.

"No! I won't put it down!" he screamed at the imaginary enemy. His right hand was stretched out and looked like he was holding something in it. "The professor comes towards me slowly. Give me the gun... I said don't move! Stop right there!" Suddenly, Davy started thrashing violently. He screeched loudly and collapsed to the floor, unmoving and silent.

Davy woke to four anxious faces staring down at him. "Man, do I have a headache..." he groaned. "What happened?"

"The doc hypnotized you and tried to get you to reveal what happened that night of the murder," Mike answered, helping his friend up.

"Well?" Davy asked fearfully. "Did... did I do it?"

"We still don't know," shrugged Micky. "You freaked out before you told us if you shot him or not."

Davy turned to Dr. Hight. "Do it again," he commanded in a shaky voice. "I have to know..."

Hight put a hand on the boy's shoulder and gently, but firmly, sat him down. "Not right now. You need to recover from that last episode. Something's not normal about your condition. You shouldn't have reacted so violently in a hypnotic state. It's as if it were more than just a traumatic block..."

Davy put his head in his hands and sighed. His three friends immediately surrounded him with pats on the back and comforting words. "Don't worry, buddy," Mike told him. "I said I'd get to the bottom of this and I will."

Davy looked up at them all. "Thanks guys..." he whispered gratefully and wiped a tear from his eye.

Micky charged through the door of the pad with a pile of books in his arms that went higher than his head. He rushed to the middle of the living room and dropped them all on the floor. "Hey guys! I scoured the entire library and here's everything I could find on hypnosis and subimbolo messages!"

Mike and Peter came rushing down the stairs. "Great!" Mike grinned. "You two start researching. I'm gonna head down to the college and see what I can find out there."

"Why do we get the boring jobs?" Micky whined.

"Think about it Mick," Mike reasoned. "You and Peter plus a campus full of college girls. What's that equal?"

"No, it's Sweet 'N Low," Peter smiled, holding up a handful of sugar packets.

Mike gave Peter a questioning look and turned back to Micky. "Just give me the keys." Micky took the keys from his pocket and tossed them at the Texan. Mike caught them in midair. "Now no goofing off. Remember, Davy's freedom is at stake here." With that, he exited the pad and started off for the college.

By the time Mike pulled up at the college, the sun was already beginning to set. He hopped out of the car and made his way towards the psychology building. His intent was to question the people there, find someone besides Davy for the police to suspect.

"Easier said than done..." he muttered to himself. Most of the teachers and students in the building had already left. He caught sight of someone down the hall just going into a room next to the lab. "What's he doing here..." he wondered out loud. "I thought this area was declared off limits by the police..." Mike walked up to the door and grasped the knob. Determined to talk to someone and not make that night a total loss, he opened the door and stepped inside.

He barely had time to register a figure moving next to him before something connected with the back of his head. He felt his world explode with pain before retreating into unconsciousness.

Micky and Peter looked up from their stack of books as the front door opened and Mike slowly trudged in.

"Hey, buddy," Micky called. "Talk to any groovy chicks?"

"No..." his friend groaned and collapsed on their couch. "But I did get whacked on the head by someone."

"And that's a good thing?" the drummer asked, confused. Peter had gotten up silently to retrieved a bag of ice for Mike. The Texan took it gratefully and sighed as the cold started to numb his pain. Micky stared at him. "Look, maybe you should leave this to the professionals. I mean, I like playing detective and all, but whoever it was that attacked you sure gave you a good knock on the head."

"But what about Davy?" Mike asked softly.

"I'll be fine," came a voice from the bedroom. All three guys turned to see Davy standing in the doorway, his face somber. "Really, Mike. If you get seriously hurt, or even killed, it's not gonna do me or this case any good." He sighed.

"But that's the point!" Mike insisted, sitting up. "I got conked because there's something in that room someone doesn't want us to see! It might be the thing that'll turn this case in Davy's favor. That's why I'm going back there tomorrow morning and turning that place upside down to find it."

"If that 'someone' didn't want you to see it, he or she would've took it after knocking you out," Micky reasoned.

"No..." Mike countered. "If that 'someone' didn't want anyone to see it, he or she would've taken it right after murdering the professor! Micky, it's been days! I think whatever it is, the killer doesn't have it. We've got to find it first!"

"We don't even know if the 'it' exists!"

The phone suddenly started ringing, interrupting the heated argument. Mike reached over and grabbed the receiver. "Hello?" he sighed wearily. There was a long pause. "Oh no... Okay, um, thanks..." He put the phone back on the hook and turned to face his friends. "That was Teresa. The investigation is off. They couldn't find enough evidence in Davy's favor. Everyone's calling it an open and shut case..." All eyes turned to the englishman.

"Well..." Davy gave a mirthless laugh, his voice full of disappointment. "Looks like I'm going to jail for murder..."

"No you're not," Mike said firmly, his face set in stone determination. "Tomorrow morning we're going to the college and we're gonna hunt for anything that might give Davy a chance. This phantom clue may or may not exist, but it's the only lead we've got."

The next morning, bright and early at eight in the morning, Mike pulled their car into a space at the campus parking lot. "Alright guys, we're here," he called. When no response came, he turned and looked in the back. Micky and Peter were in the middle seats, leaning against each other and fast asleep. Davy was curled up in the very back, and gave a small snort as he turned over. Mike sighed. "No sense of adventure at all..." he muttered and got out of the convertible.

"We have enough sense not to get up so early in the morning just to get ourselves killed," Micky mumbled back, but he climbed out of the car also, causing Peter to fall over.

"Wha...?" the confused boy yawned. "Are we there yet?"

"Yeah," Mike answered. "Come on, shotgun. Get out." Peter obeyed sluggishly, letting out a loud yawn as he stretched. Mike looked at Davy, physically lifted him out of the car and started for the psychology building, waking the latter up instantly.

"Hey!" the startled boy cried. "Put me down!" With a grin, Mike dropped Davy onto the grass and continued strolling away. Micky and Peter followed him, snickering at the poor boy. "That wasn't very nice," Davy announced as he got up and dusted himself off. His friend only shrugged. Davy ran ahead of Mike. "And when I said 'put me down', I meant gently, not like a sack of potatoes."

"Sure, boss, I'll remember that next time," Mike laughed.

The shorter boy sniffed arrogantly and led the way. "Glad to see you know who's in charge around here."

At the end of the procession, Micky whispered to Peter, "Say, who is in charge?"

"I am," the blond whispered back.

Davy led the group into the building and looked to Mike. "Alright, so where did you get whammied?" Mike pointed to a door just right of the lab. "That's the Prof's office."

"I figured as much," Mike snorted and reached for the knob.

"Excuse me boys," called a voice from behind them. "You aren't supposed to be in this part of the building." The four whirled around to see Seabury giving them a stern look, which changed to one of surprise upon seeing Davy. "Why, Mr. Jones! What are you doing here?"

"I, uh, came to get some stuff I left," the boy quickly fibbed. "Yeah, these are my roommates. You remember them."

"Indeed I do," Seabury smiled. "But you four still shouldn't be hanging around here. Old Turner's been having a cow ever since this whole mess started. The only slightly good news I have is the research was almost completed and we have enough evidence to present to the Hotan Corporation that subliminal messages do work. That got Turner's mood to lighten about two notches. But you better skedaddle. You don't want to get on her bad side. Or should I say her worse side."

Davy laughed. "She's not so bad. Just a bit demanding and stern. In fact, she would get along fine with our landlord, Mr. Babbitt! I'll just grab my stuff and we'll be outta here before anyone knows."

"Alright, Davy," Seabury nodded and started walking away. "Take care."

"Whew, I though he'd never leave," Davy whispered as soon as the assistant was out of hearing range. He quickly opened the door and ushered the others inside. The office was a small area with a large clear window looking into the lab. A door next to the window allowed access next door and there was a sound board setup in front of the window. A beautiful oak desk stood in the opposite corner with papers piled up high upon it. Two identical bookcases rested against the wall closest to the boys. Books and more papers littered the floor. "Well, the Prof never was a neat freak..."

"Why didn't you tell him the truth?" Peter asked about Seabury as they all started searching.

"He's done enough for me already. I just don't want him to get mixed up in this even more. Why, I bet there are rumors about him circling around right now!" After half an hour of futile searching, the boys decided to call it quits.

"We'd better get outta here before someone finds us poking around in here..." Micky warned. "Especially you, Davy."

"I know, but..." Davy's eyes lit up. "Poking! I remember!" He went over to the desk, which had been searched a few dozen times. Leaning over and reaching beneath the drawers, he felt around before finding a small knothole. "The day before the Prof was killed, I saw him put something in here. He hadn't closed the door all the way and I happened to be right outside." He poked a finger into it and dragged out a secret compartment. Inside lay a spiral bound notebook. Mike reached over and picked it up.

"If this is important enough for him to hide, we'd better make sure it doesn't fall into the wrong hands," the Texan declared. "Come on, let's go."

The four friends started for the door when a movement in the lab caused them to freeze. The door on the far side of the lab opened and in stepped a tall blond woman with a snappy business suit.

"Miss Turner!" Davy gasped. As if answering to her name, the woman snapped her head around and looked in the window. All four boys gulped audibly as she spied them.

"Let's get outta here!" Micky yelped as they all raced for the door. Miss Turner stopped in front of the window and wiped a smudge off of it. She hated dirty windows. Cleanliness is next to godliness, she'd always say.

The boys didn't stop running until they were safely back in their car. Mike gunned the engine and they started back for the pad. "Guys..." Davy chuckled a bit. "She couldn't have seen us. That was a one-way window."

"A what?" Micky puffed, still trying to catch his breath.

"A one-way window. We could see her, but it's impossible for her to see us. On that side, it looks just like a big mirror."

"Well, thanks for telling us now!" Micky yelled and socked his friend.

"Thanks for coming here tonight. We're gonna take a short break. Keep on dancing and we'll be back in twenty minutes." Mike stepped away from the microphone as the jukebox started playing. The boys were glad that the controversy surrounding Davy's involvement with Karabinis's murder didn't effect their ability to draw an audience. In fact, it seemed more people than usual have dropped in, many of them past and present patrons of the club. As Davy stepped off the stage, the was immediately surrounded by teenage girls spouting words of support.

The other three went and sat down at a table to rest for a while. They each ordered a coke and Mike whipped out the notebook. He had been reading the entries from it whenever they had spare time. So far, it just seemed to be notes on his experiments.

Micky, on the other hand, had been scouting for girls, but they were all huddled around Davy. "Look at him," Micky complained to Peter. "Even when he's a wanted criminal, he gets all the girls! And I thought I'd actually stand a chance against him tonight." Peter glanced over at the Englishman, who appeared to be enjoying the ladies' company, dancing with four or five at a time.

"Well, I don't stand a chance against either one of you, so stop complaining," he answered. Suddenly, a tune from the jukebox caught his attention. "Hey, isn't this the new song by The Gryzzlees?"

"Yeah," Micky replied after listening to a few lines. "I'd never thought it'd be this popular. Not even the DJs played it on the radio..."

Take me, touch me,
Tear my soul apart.
Save me, soothe me,
Seduce my weakened heart.
I am under your control,
You have total control,
Total control of my mind...**

Mike looked up from his reading. "I hate this song," he commented. "Come on, our break's almost over. Let's get Romeo and start our second set." The three boys look over to where Davy was last dancing, but they couldn't see him. A group of girls and some guys had him surrounded and were whispering worriedly amongst themselves.

"Wonder what's up..." Micky muttered as he got up and fought his way to his band mate. "Did he invent a new dance or something?" Davy was indeed in the middle of the crowd, but he far from dancing. In fact, he wasn't moving at all. The boy stood absolutely still, slouched a little bit, slack-jawed with a glazed look in his eyes. "Davy?" Micky asked, waving a hand in front of his friend's face and getting no reaction at all. "Davy, what's wrong?" When the Englishman failed to respond, Micky started to panic. "Come on, buddy, snap out of it!" he yelled, shaking Davy hard. No reaction. Micky stood on tip toe and tried to catch his friends' eyes over the crowds' heads.

"MIKE!"

Mike's head snapped up from his reading when he heard his friend yell. He jumped up and rushed over to Micky and Davy, with Peter following close behind. He squirmed and twisted through the thick crowd, calling to Micky. "What's wrong?"

"It's Davy, man," the drummer replied worriedly. "He's completely blanked out." Mike looked Davy over. The latter hadn't moved at all. Peter waved a hand in front of his eyes, but the boy didn't even blink.

"Let's get him some fresh air," Mike declared at last. "Maybe it was something he ate..." The three boys dragged their friend out the front, and as soon as the doors closed behind them, Davy blinked and shook himself.

"Hey guys, where'd the party go?"

"The party's inside," Mike answered. "We brought you out here cause you were acting weird."

Davy gave his friend a confused look. "Acting weird? What do you mean? I always dance like that."

"That's a new dance?" Peter asked. "Wow, I bet it'll be a huge craze." He then froze up in a bad imitation of Davy.

"No, no, no!" Davy shook his head. "Like this." He started what the others supposed was a dance, but they thought he looked more like a fish flopping around.

"Yeah, you'll really hook girls with that one, Jones," Mike laughed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" his friend challenged. "Are you saying I'm a bad dancer?" He didn't give Mike a chance to reply. "At least I know how! Try it sometime instead of your usual impression of a lawn ornament on stage." With that, he turned and walked back towards the club. But as soon as the doors opened, he froze up again. The others gazed at each other with worry in their eyes.

"And we don't know what made him act like that..." Micky explained what had happened to Dr. Hight. All four of the boys were back in the psychiatrist's office the next day. Micky continued, "It was real weird, kinda like how he was when you hypnotized him last time."

Hight's eyes lit up at this comparison. "Was there anything that might have triggered it?" he asked anxiously. "Like, um, flashing lights? An unusual spoken phrase? Specific music?"

"Well, I don't know about the first two," Mike answered. "I wasn't close enough to see. But I do remember the song that was playing. The Gryzzlees' Total Control Of My Mind. I hate that song..."

"I have that," Hight chuckled. "One of my other patients left it here last time." He walked over to his desk and took a tape out. "Here it is. Let's see if this is what's causing Davy to slip into a trance. The title's appropriate enough." He popped it into a tape player and turned it on. A few seconds of silence passed before the annoying tune started. Everyone turned to Davy anxiously, and they were not disappointed. The boy sat slouched on the sofa, his eyes glazed over and his face relaxed. Hight nodded to himself in satisfaction and turned the tape off.

Davy immediately blinked and looked at the others impatiently. "Well? When are you gonna play the tape?"

"Uh, Davy," Micky said hesitantly. "We just did... You were totally out of it..." His short friend looked bewildered.

"What?!"

"It's the song that's doing it to him?" Peter asked, turning to Hight.

"Yep," the psychiatrist nodded. "Someone had made it so every time he hears this song, he'll react that way."

"Can you unmake it?" Mike asked.

"Certainly. But since this makes it easier for him to be hypnotized, why don't we try another session to find out who the murderer is?"

Davy nodded in approval. "Alright. Do it."

Davy fidgeted nervously as Dr. Hight rewound the tape. He glanced over at Micky, who had gotten permission to call Teresa. The drummer first had a worried expression on hid face, but that soon changed into a smile.

"Wow, that's great, Teresa!" he exclaimed. "I'll talk to you later. Call me if anything new comes up, 'kay? Okay, bye!" Micky hung up the phone and looked up into three curious faces. Mike was too engrossed in reading Professor Karabinis's notebook to notice. "Well," Micky asked. "Do you want the good news first or the bad news?"

Peter immediately raised his hand and began waving it around in the air with excitement. "Ooh, ooh! Good news! No, wait! Bad news! I want the bad news!"

Micky shrugged. "Bad news is there's still no news on Davy's case. And the trial's tomorrow. If we can't get to the bottom of this by tonight, then he's going to jail." Everybody looked glum at the thought.

Davy sighed, accepting the fact. "And what's the good news?"

"Good news is Teresa went to interview the psych staff again this morning and despite the fact that the research wasn't completely done, there's enough evidence that subastianal messages do work that the boss lady, Turner, was able to sell to the tape producing people!"

Mike's head snapped up. "What? Are you sure, Micky?" The Texan focused his intense gaze at his friend.

"W-well, yeah, Mike... Teresa just told me herself. Why? What's wrong?"

"According to the Prof's notebook, the sublimpono tests weren't working!"

"Maybe Beanie made some mistakes and he tried to hide them," Micky suggested. "That's why the notebook was stashed away like that..."

"I dunno..."

Dr. Hight clapped his hands suddenly to get their attention. "Okay, boys. Let's get Davy hypnotized and maybe we'll break through this time and find out what's really going on."

"Go for it," Davy encouraged, getting comfortable on the couch. Hight pressed "play" on the little tape player. As soon as the music came on, Davy's whole body relaxed. His eyes became droopy and unfocused. His mouth opened slightly as a sigh escaped his lips.

"Davy, you're calm and relaxed. Let's go back to the day Karabinis was killed. From the beginning. Go slowly." Once again Davy recounted the events leading up to the professor's death. As Davy started to get agitated again, Hight came in with soothing words to keep the boy calm. "Go on, Davy. This is just a memory. You're not really there."

Davy took a few deep breaths and started talking again. "Th-there's a gun in my hand. 'No,' the Prof is shouting. 'Put the gun down!' I won't! You deserve this!"

The other all leaned forward slightly, eager to hear what really happened.

"He's telling me to shoot! The... the voice. Stay put, Prof! You're not going anywhere! 'Davy,' he says. 'Davy, calm down.' My finger's on the trigger. The voice is saying just one shot. One shot and he'll never push me around again! No! No, it doesn't matter what he does to me! I can't do it!" Everyone in the room almost cheered. Davy hadn't pulled the trigger.

"But who's this voice Davy keeps talking about?" Micky looked confused.

"He's coming out now," Davy continued, looking frightened. "I made him mad. I didn't do what he wanted. 'Imbecile!' he yells. 'I thought I trained you right!' He grabs the gun from my hand and he shoots the Prof! No! He turns to me. 'Forget everything,' he says. He's gone. He's gone..."

"Who's 'he'?" Peter asked Davy gently.

"Peter," Mike answered instead. "This 'he' is the only person who would gain if the professor is dead. The only one at risk. The only one who knew Davy and the professor well enough to try this whole thing. Seabury."

"He's right," Davy confirmed, totally out of the trance now. "It was Seabury."

Micky paced around the pad, trying to come up with arguments in favor of Seabury. Peter watched him go back and forth, sometimes around in a circle until he got so dizzy, he almost fell over.

"But he's such a nice guy!" Micky exclaimed. "He lent us bail money for Davy!"

"He's nice because he doesn't want to be suspected," Davy explained to his friend. "He killed the professor and let me take the rap. He was probably still in the room when Mike ran in to check what happened!"

"Hey guys," Peter interrupted before Micky could reply. "That's all well and good, but will it stand up in court? All we have is a ratty, beaten up notebook and Davy's word. What if that's not enough proof?"

Mike raised his eyebrows at Davy. "Then you're screwed."

Mike walked into the dark laboratory. It was an hour and a half after this part of the college was supposed to be closed. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before looking around. Almost immediately, he spotted the shadowy figure waiting by the sofas.

"Seabury."

"Good evening, Michael," the assistant professor greeted.

"Nice weather we're having, eh?" Mike tried to start a conversation.

"You said you had something I might be interested in." Seabury started walking towards Mike slowly, his face showing no trace of the friendliness that was familiar to the boy.

"Okay," Mike shrugged. "If you just wanted to cut to the point... Yes, yes I do." He pulled out Karabinis's notebook. Flipping to a page he had marked earlier, he began to read from it. " 'The tests aren't going as well as I had hoped. Only a little less than a quarter of the students responded to the hidden messages. I had expressed this concern to young Seabury, but he doesn't act as if it were a problem. I'm going to have to check on his notes on the experiment.' " Mike snapped the notebook close and looked up at Seabury. The young professor's face was as blank as an egg.

"You're right, I might be interested in that," he said at last. "What do you want for it?"

Mike grinned. "I want half the sum you'll receive for the research."

Seabury frowned deeply and his eyes narrowed. "That's quite a lot. And what about your little friend, Davy?"

"Eh, he can go to jail," the Texan waved his hand dismissively. "When you have enough money, you can just buy your friends, right?" He gave a small chuckle. "But I would like to know how to got Davy to kill the professor."

"Well," Seabury replied, a little at ease that Mike could be bought. "I started a little testing with Davy when I noticed how much he disliked Karabinis. I had been looking for a way to off that old goat for a while now. He was getting too close to finding out how I doctored the reports on our research. Couldn't leave well enough alone. We could've made a fortune together!" Mike listened intently as he complained. "I realized that Davy was very suggestible. Easy to hypnotize. So I started giving him little messages through our system." He pointed towards Karabinis's office. "From there, I can talk to Davy through the headphones he was wearing. I hypnotized him and gave him little suggestions."

"Like to go buy a gun..." Mike added. "And you told him to forget about it. And he didn't even realize he bought one!"

Seabury smiled, showing all his teeth. "Exactly. And I would train him to hate Karabinis even more than he did already. But the idiot wouldn't pull the trigger when the time came! So I had to come out and kill him myself!"

"So you really did kill Karabinis!" Mike exclaimed.

"Right, kid. But you're not gonna be telling anyone about that."

"I get ya," Mike nodded. "Don't worry. Just give me my half of the money and I'll keep quiet."

Seabury chuckled, shaking his head as if Mike had told some sort of joke. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun, aiming it at Mike's chest. "No, I don't think so. I think I'll just kill you and keep all the money to myself."

Mike stared at the gun. He knew Seabury might try something like that, but thinking about it and actually experiencing it were entirely different things.

"Um, you might want to put that away, Seabury," he gave the man a wavering smile, trying to keep his voice steady. "The police might bust in at any moment and arrest you for murder and attempted murder."

The assistant professor glared at Mike. "Not if you're dead and I destroy that notebook!" He motioned towards the door with the gun. "Now move it, Nesmith. I already found the perfect place to hide your body."

Mike took a small step towards the door, then glanced back at the man. "Oh, before we go, there's one more thing you need to know."

"Stop stalling, kid!" Seabury snarled angrily. "What is it?"

Mike closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Hit it!" he yelled.

There was silence for a few seconds and the Texan feared the plan hadn't worked. Then, a loud crackling noise came on over the loudspeakers and Seabury's own voice came blaring out. "And I would train him to hate Karabinis even more than he did already. But the idiot wouldn't pull the trigger when the time came! So I had to come out and kill him myself!"

Seabury's eyes widened in surprise. He raised his hand and fired a few shots at the one way window. The glass shattered and broke, revealing Micky, Peter and Davy sitting at the controls.

"It's over, Seabury," Mike announced. "We gotcha!"

With a scream of rage, Seabury swung the gun at Mike. Just then, the doors to the lab burst open and six police officers ran in, led by Teresa, with their guns trained on him. The loudspeakers continued to spout out the defeated professor's confession and his plan to kill Mike.

Davy run up to Mike and gave him a big hug as the cops led Seabury out of the room. "Mike, you did it!" the boy exclaimed happily. Normally, the Texan would try to wiggle out of the embrace, but this time he welcomed it happily. He had saved his friend from going to jail and he was proud of it.

"Good work, Nesmith," Teresa smiled as she walked over to the two. "You solved the case. Ever think of joining the police force and becoming a detective?"

"Maybe," Mike laughed. "But I have enough excitement just being a Monkee. I don't think I can handle any more."

Teresa nodded. "Yeah, but excitement's good for you. It keeps you on your toes. Let me know if you change your mind."

Mike grinned at his friend. Teresa then went over to an angry Miss Turner, who had shown up when contacted by the police. Turner was rambling on and on about how all this police activity is going to ruin the school's reputation. Mike and Davy moved over to the sofas. Peter and Micky sat in one of them, being treated by a paramedic. When the glass had shattered, they received a few scratches.

"Another happy ending," Peter sighed happily. "Everything's just swell."

"Yeah," Micky agreed. "We knew you didn't kill Beanie, Davy. The book I was reading said people won't do what they normally wouldn't even when hypnotized."

Davy smiled. "Thanks. Too bad about Turner though. She really was looking forward to getting that money. She's not such a bad bird. Wanted the cash to fix up the college a little."

"I guess we'll get the details of everything that had happened once Seabury confesses," Mike added. "Imagine, attempting murder through..."

Micky, Mike and Davy looked at each other. Together, they shouted, "Subliminal messages!!"

Peter looked at them and grinned. "Submarine."

** No, my poetry and songs aren't really that awful. The Grizzlies are an awful band (as well as an awful football team. It's my school) so I was being corny on purpose.
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