CHAPTER 1
As in many other youth organizations, BlueJay Scouts receive
awards for achievements in academic and social endeavors. In
keeping with their avian nature, the BlueJay leaders bestow
feathers rather than merit badges. Some feathers are permanent
once awarded; others need to be maintained through an ongoing
program.
(Note: for additional information on the BlueJay Scouts, please
go to
<HERE>)
For continuing credit on their Citizenship feathers, Toby’s
BlueJay nest elected to spend time with some of Greendale’s
senior citizens. Toby herself wanted to volunteer at the police
department, but this time she’d been outvoted.
The volunteer center matched the girl up with Miss Twilly, a
retired schoolteacher who’d never married. Toby’s duties
included light housekeeping and generally being available to
talk to. Once a week, she donned her scout uniform and pedaled
over to the small house on the outskirts of town.
Despite her initial reluctance, the BlueJay soon warmed up to
Miss Twilly’s pleasant, easygoing nature. The old woman seemed
quite taken with her young companion as well, and the two often
spent their afternoons together sitting on the front porch
swing, sipping tea (herbal for Miss Twilly, iced for Toby) and
chatting.
Today’s visit, though, seemed very different. Rather than her
usual effusive greeting, Miss Twilly just said, “Oh, it’s
you,” when Toby showed up on her doorstep.
Toby followed the ex-schoolteacher inside. “What’ll it be
today, Miss Twilly? Prune the roses? Weed the vegetable patch?”
“No, not today. Why ... why don’t you read to me? I think I’d
like that. Yes, I think I’d like that very much.”
Miss Twilly had never made that request before, but ... “Well,
um, sure, okay, I guess. What would you like me to read?”
“How about this?” The old woman handed Toby a paperback
book. “It’s a mystery novel.”
“A mystery ...” Toby inspected the book. The title read, “The
Italian Affair”. The cover showed a teenaged girl looking
apprehensively around her, while a menacing shadow lurked in the
background. “Sure, I’d be glad to!”
Miss Twilly occupied an easy chair in a corner of the living
room, while Toby sat on the sofa. There were worse ways to spend
an afternoon than with a good mystery, the girl thought as she
opened the book and plunged in.
Her joy soon turned to disappointment, though. The book read
more like a travel guide to Venice than a mystery. Every
building, every landmark, every bit of sculpture or statuary got
described in excruciatingly lengthy detail. After a visit to the
botanical gardens which included a description of every blooming
thing there, Toby couldn’t keep her interest up.
Not exactly her choice of literature – but then, that was the
point. This wasn’t her choice; it was Miss Twilly’s. So the
BlueJay read on.
“Annabelle crept slowly along the wall, keeping to the
shadows, careful that her quarry didn’t spy her. She knew, she
just knew, she was on the verge of solving the mystery of the
missing necklace.
“Rounding a corner, she saw the figure she’d been trailing
disappear into the old cathedral. Annabelle regarded its
picturesque columns and towers. Completed in 1471, the cathedral
had long been a landmark of old Venice ...”
Oh, bru-ther, Toby mentally groaned. She glanced ahead in the
book; sure enough, the next several paragraphs were devoted to
the cathedral’s architecture and history.
What mystery there was (a jewelry theft) wasn’t much, either.
In just the short time she’d been reading, Toby knew the
gardener had to be the thief. She’d figured that out when the
author revealed that the chauffeur was left-handed. Annabelle
was certainly no Nancy Drew.
Oh, well, Toby reflected, if this is what Miss Twilly wanted her
to read ... she took a deep breath, preparing to resume the
story, when she glanced over at her hostess. The old woman sat
stock-still, staring straight ahead, her tea cup raised to her
lips. If she was aware that the girl had stopped reading, she
gave no sign.
“Miss Twilly? Miss Twilly, are you okay?”
“What?” Miss Twilly seemed to come back to herself. “Oh.”
She put her tea cup down. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Just a little
tired.”
“Do you want me to read again?”
“No, I think that’s enough for now.”
Toby gratefully shut the book. She took a close look at Miss
Twilly, noticing how the wrinkles around the old woman’s eyes
looked deeper and more pronounced. Toby’s detective radar
started buzzing, and she resolved to find out what was going on.
“Is ... is something bothering you, Miss Twilly?” she asked.
The ex-schoolteacher took a long time before answering. “Yes
... yes, Toby, there is.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Well ... I don’t know. I don’t think so. You see, every
night this week, I’ve heard noises ... strange noises ...
outside the house.”
Toby’s curiosity grew stronger by the moment. “What kind of
noises?”
“Tapping on the windows ... scratching at the doors ... as if
somebody’s trying to get in. But when I look, there’s never
anyone there.”
“Have you called the police?”
“Yes. They think it’s some kids playing pranks. They say
they’ll try to send a car around more often, but I guess they
don’t think one old woman is very important.”
“Do you think it’s somebody playing pranks?”
“No, Toby, I really don’t. It doesn’t make any sense. No
one’s bothered me before. I’ve been retired long enough that
most of my former students are having children of their own. Why
would anyone start playing pranks on me now?”
“Well ... what do you think is happening?”
Miss Twilly hesitated.
Toby tried to think of alternatives to prank-playing. “Somebody
could be trying to break in ... maybe to steal something?” She
glanced around the neatly kept, but modest, room. If Miss Twilly
did have anything worth stealing, she certainly kept it
well-hid.
“There is one thing ... but I didn’t think anyone knew about
it.” The old woman chewed on her lip for a while before
continuing. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Sure!” Toby replied. This was certainly much more
interesting than “The Italian Affair”!
“Very well. Follow me, dear.”
Miss Twilly led the girl upstairs to the attic. The
ex-schoolteacher unlocked an ancient steamer trunk and removed a
carrying case. “You’re the only one I’ve ever shown this
to,” she remarked as she opened the case. Toby gasped at what
she saw inside.
CHAPTER 2
Toby had seen enough pictures of Grecian urns, and even seen a
few in person at the Greendale museum, to know that’s what she
was looking at now. But she’d never seen one quite like this.
The urn was deep blue with gold trim; on the side was a drawing
of a warrior with a sword and shield fighting against a man with
the head of a bull. “It’s ... it’s beautiful,” she
breathed.
“Yes, it certainly is,” Miss Twilly agreed. She indicated
the bull-headed figure. “Do you know what this is?”
“It’s a minotaur,” Toby answered confidently.
“That’s right. Are you familiar with the legend of the
minotaur?”
“Yeah, we studied Greek myths last year. The minotaur was sent
to King Minos of Crete as a punishment for disobeying the gods.
He built a huge maze – a lab – a laby –“
“A labyrinth,” Miss Twilly prompted.
“A labyrinth,” Toby continued, grateful for the assistance,
“for the minotaur to live in. Each year, the king sent seven
young men and seven young women into the labyrinth, where the
minotaur caught and ate them. A Greek hero named, um, er –“
“Theseus,” supplied the old woman.
“Yeah, him. Anyway, he found his way through the labyrinth and
killed the minotaur.”
“That’s exactly right,” Miss Twilly confirmed, sounding
pleasantly surprised.
“Where did you get the urn?”
“My grandfather was an archaeologist. One of the digs he
assisted on was on Crete. He found the urn, but decided to keep
it as a souvenir, rather than turn it in to the authorities. It’s
been in my family ever since.”
“And you think somebody’s trying to steal it?”
“Well ... I don’t see what else it could be. I don’t keep
any money around the house, and everything else I have has only
sentimental value.”
Something had been nagging at Toby, and she finally figured it
out. “You told me you’d never shown the urn to anyone else.
If no one knows about it, how do they know to steal it?”
“That’s exactly it, Toby. The only people who know about the
urn are you, me, and Gerald.”
“Gerald?” Toby was instantly suspicious.
“Yes, my nephew, my late brother’s son.”
“Could he be the one trying to steal the urn?”
“Oh, my heavens, no. He’s my only living relative, and he’ll
get it when I pass on, so why should he try to steal it now?
Besides, he lives clear over in Nevada. He calls me every year,
on my birthday and at Christmastime. He’s always been such a
kind, considerate boy.”
Toby felt stymied. “Are you sure you haven’t told anyone
else about the urn?”
“I’m sure, dear. I’ve been very careful.”
“But if it isn’t Gerald, and no one else knows about the
urn, then who could be trying to steal it?”
“Well – “ Miss Twilly visibly hesitated.
“What, Miss Twilly? What were you about to say?”
“There – there was an old legend that said – if anyone
stole treasure from King Minos, the minotaur’s ghost would
come get it back – but – but that can’t be. There’s no
such thing as ghosts.” The old woman checked her watch. “Anyway,
it’ll be getting dark soon. Time for you to go home, dear.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Um ... can I use your phone?”
“Certainly, dear. Go right ahead. You know where it is.”
While Miss Twilly repacked the urn, Toby hurried downstairs to
the kitchen, where she quickly dialed a number she’d long
since memorized. “Hi, it’s Toby. Is Terry there? ... Hi,
Terr. I need a favor. I’m over at Miss Twilly’s, and I’m
going to be late getting home. Can you say that I came over to
work on homework, and I had dinner at your house? ... I’ll
explain later ... thanks, Terr, I owe ya one! ... Okay, I owe ya
another one. Bye!”
The young girl replaced the receiver, then picked it up again
and dialed an even-more familiar number. “Hi, Mom! Terry
invited me over to her place for dinner, and to work on
homework. Can I go? ... I’ll be home by nine at the latest ...
yes, I’ll be careful riding my bike in the dark ... thanks,
Mom! Bye!”
After telling Miss Twilly goodbye, Toby climbed aboard her bike
and pedaled down the driveway. She rode until she was out of
sight of the house, then stashed her bike behind a tree and
doubled back. She found a convenient shrub to hide behind, which
gave her a view of the front of the house, and settled in to
wait. If it was kids playing pranks, then maybe she could give
the police somebody to go after. If it was someone, or
something, else, well ... Toby figured she’d play that one by
ear.
CHAPTER 3
Time passed, and the sun went down. Toby wished the BlueJay
Scouts had a uniform combination that included trousers. Her
blouse kept her arms and upper body warm enough, and her knee
socks did the same for her lower legs, but she could feel goose
bumps all over her bare thighs. That and the rumbling in her
stomach had her on the point of abandoning her vigil when she
caught a hint of movement by the corner of Miss Twilly’s
house.
Had she imagined it? No, there it was again. She watched
intently as a figure emerged from the shadows. Despite her
clothing, the goose bumps from her legs spread to her arms and
crawled up the back of her neck.
The figure was that of a man, and a rather tall, well-muscled
man at that, his height easily topping six feet. He wore a short
toga and a pair of sandals. What interested Toby most, though,
was that he had the head of a bull.
“The minotaur’s ghost!” the young girl breathed. She
remembered what Miss Twilly said about the old legend earlier.
Toby hadn’t believed it then, either, but now she had the
evidence right before her eyes.
The minotaur strode around the house, stopping only long enough
to tap on the front windows, and disappeared around the far
corner. Ghost or no ghost, Toby had a job to do, and she needed
a better look. She crept from her hiding place to where she’d
last seen the minotaur, and peeked around the house. No sign of
him. She tiptoed to the next corner and looked around it.
There he stood, his back to her, rattling the doorknob on Miss
Twilly’s back door. Something didn’t look right about his
neck, but she couldn’t quite make it out. If she could just
get a little bit closer ... her heart pounding, ready to flee at
any second, she stepped out from behind the house, towards the
minotaur.
So intent was Toby on her quarry, that she didn’t pay
attention to where she was putting her feet. She stepped on a
twig, which promptly broke with a loud CRACK!
The minotaur whirled around and started toward her. Toby turned
to run, but her legs got tangled and she fell, heavily. Pain
shot up her right leg, and she knew she’d at least twisted her
ankle. She tried to scramble to her feet, but by then he was
upon her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and hoisted her
up, hugging her tight against his chest. She tried to scream,
but only a brief squeal emerged before the minotaur clamped his
other hand over her mouth, covering her nose as well.
Toby fought desperately against the constricting grip. She
pulled on the arm around her waist, then at the hand over her
mouth, but couldn’t dislodge either. Her kicks either missed
the minotaur’s legs, or did no damage. Through her rising
panic, one corner of her mind realized that he seemed awfully
substantial for a ghost ...
The minotaur tightened his grip around Toby’s waist. She
already wasn’t getting much air with her nose and mouth
blocked, and the additional pressure on her ribcage made
breathing very difficult. She redoubled her efforts, kicking,
pulling, and squirming frantically, which only exhausted her
oxygen supply faster.
Her vision blurred, and stars swam before her eyes. She mustered
all her remaining strength and jabbed her elbow into the
minotaur’s exposed ribs. Her blow connected, and she heard a
satisfying “Oof!”, but his grip never loosened. She fought
to remain awake, but, totally exhausted, knew it was only a
matter of time before she ... lost ... consciousness ...
completely ...
The minotaur felt the girl go limp. He turned her around and,
with his hands in her armpits, held her before his face,
studying her intently, as if surprised at what he saw. Then,
moving with unexpected tenderness for a creature his size, he
lifted her up over his shoulder. Wrapping one arm around her
legs to hold her securely in place, he headed off into the
darkness.
CHAPTER 4
Toby slowly came awake, prompted by dull aches in her ribs and
ankle. She gradually opened her eyes; as her vision cleared, she
realized she was lying on her side, in a pile of straw. From the
musty smell, and from what she could make out in the dim light,
she figured she was in an old barn. There was no sign of the
minotaur.
She heard footsteps approaching and quickly closed her eyes.
After a few seconds, she cautiously peeked out again. There
stood the minotaur, accompanied by a man with greased-back black
hair and a scraggly mustache, wearing a sports coat over a
sweater and jeans, holding a lantern. The minotaur pointed at
her.
“What’d you bring her here for?” the other man said. To
Toby’s surprise, a muffled voice came from the minotaur’s
head, although she didn’t see his lips move.
“Take that thing off,” commanded the man with the mustache.
“You know I can’t hear you like that.”
Toby watched as the minotaur reached up, twisted his head back
and forth a bit, then lifted it off, revealing a normal human
head beneath. Just a mask, she thought. He’s not a real
minotaur after all. She shut her eyes again, figuring it might
be better if the men thought she was still unconscious.
“I didn’t know what else to do with her. I thought she might
be hurt,” the minotaur man (as Toby now thought of him) said.
His voice sounded familiar somehow … now she placed it. A few
weeks ago, Toby had watched an old movie on television, a
dramatization of John Steinbeck’s story “Of Mice and Men”.
One of the characters, Lenny, was … well, her mother had
called him “slow”. The minotaur man sounded a lot like
Lenny.
“You idiot!” The mustache man snarled. “You’ve messed up
everything!”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Twilly. I didn’t mean to mess up. But she
saw me, and you said nobody was supposed to see me. Then she
fell down, and I picked her up, and she started to scream, so I
put my hand over her mouth, and she wouldn’t stop fighting, so
I squeezed her, and she went all limp and everything. I don’t
know what made me squeeze her that hard. I didn’t mean to. I’m
sorry.”
The mustache man’s name was Mr. Twilly? That was too big a
coincidence. Could he be Miss Twilly’s nephew?
“This was supposed to be so easy!” the mustache man ranted.
“Frighten the old bat into giving up the urn, then sell it for
enough to get Big Louie off my neck! Now we still don’t have
the urn and, on top of everything else, we’ve got a kid to
deal with!”
“I didn’t mean to, Mr. Twilly. What are we gonna do now?”
asked the minotaur man.
“Be quiet, willya? I gotta think!” Gerald Twilly (Toby now
had no doubt as to his identity) replied.
Toby needed to think, too. So far as she was concerned, the
mystery was solved – Miss Twilly’s nephew was behind the
plot to steal the urn. Now the BlueJay needed to find a way out
of her predicament, so she could alert the authorities and tell
the old woman the truth about her “kind, considerate”
nephew.
As Toby tried to work out a plan, she felt something run across
her legs. Involuntarily, she shrieked and sat up. Gerald rushed
over to her and grabbed her by her shoulders. “Playing possum,
eh? What’d you hear? Tell me! What’d you hear?” he
demanded, shaking her violently.
The rough treatment reawakened the pain in Toby’s sore ribs
and ankle. “Ow, ow, let go! You’re hurting me!” she
moaned.
The minotaur man put his hand on Gerald’s shoulder. “Stop
it, Mr. Twilly. You’re hurting her. Leave her alone.” But
the other man paid no attention, continuing his brutal
interrogation.
“I said, leave her alone!” the minotaur man roared, bodily
yanking Gerald away from Toby and throwing him aside. With a
sickening thud, he collided with a support beam and went down in
a heap.
For a few seconds, the girl and the minotaur man stared at
Gerald’s unmoving body; then Toby pushed herself to her feet
and limped over to him. “Is he – is he dead?” asked the
minotaur man.
Gerald’s pulse and breathing were steady. “No, you just
knocked him out,” Toby replied.
“I hurt him, though. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn’t
mean to hurt you. I never meant to hurt anyone.” He sounded
disconsolate.
“Well, yes, but ... he was hurting me, and you stopped that.
Thank you,” Toby said. The minotaur man managed a shy smile.
With Gerald unconscious, this seemed the best time for Toby to
make her getaway. She hobbled along gingerly for a few steps
before finding herself scooped up in the arms of the minotaur
man. “Oh, um, well ... okay.” She wasn’t exactly
comfortable with this arrangement, but her ankle was very
painful and he was moving faster than she could. Besides, it
seemed she didn’t have much choice in the matter anyway.
Toby looked up at the minotaur man. His face looked gentle, even
kindly. She wondered how he’d gotten mixed up with somebody
like Gerald Twilly. “What’s your name?” she inquired.
“Pete. What’s yours?”
“Toby.”
The minotaur man – Pete – trudged on for a few more steps,
then asked, “Where are we going?”
“Um, back to Miss Twilly’s house?”
“Miss Twilly?” Pete looked confused.
“She’s the one you were trying to get the urn from.”
“Oh, the old lady. Yeah, I can take you there.”
Miss Twilly had just gotten into bed when she heard a loud
pounding at her front door. “Oh, please, just go away and
leave me alone,” she muttered. Then a familiar voice called to
her.
“Miss Twilly! It’s Toby! Are you awake? Miss Twilly!”
Throwing on her robe, the ex-schoolteacher rushed to her front
door and flung it open. There was her BlueJay Scout volunteer,
cradled in the arms of a large man wearing what appeared to be
ancient Greek clothing. “Merciful heavens! What’s going on?”
“It’s a long story, Miss Twilly,” the girl replied. “Can
we come in?”
CHAPTER 5
The old woman ushered the pair inside and, following a hurried
explanation from Toby, rushed to the phone. First to arrive were
a couple of officers from the Greendale police force, followed
closely by two paramedics. After the girl again related the
night’s events, one of the officers left to radio for a
detective. Meanwhile, a paramedic gently probed her ankle.
A few minutes later, another knock came at the door. This time
it was Frank and Caitlin O’Keefe, Toby’s parents. “Are you
all right?” Caitlin cried, rushing to her daughter’s side.
“She’s fine. There’s nothing broken, just a mild sprain,”
the paramedic pronounced. “Keep her off it for a few days, and
she should be good as new.”
“Oh, she’ll have plenty of time to recover from that,”
Frank O’Keefe said, “and from any other aches and pains she
might have.” Toby wondered at the odd tone in her father’s
voice.
“Now, Frank,” Caitlin cautioned, “we haven’t heard her
side of it yet.”
“I’d like to hear the story, too.” Unnoticed in the
commotion, yet another man had entered the room. He held up a
badge. “Detective Hank Morgan, Greendale PD.”
“Land’s sakes,” Miss Twilly exclaimed, looking around her
crowded living room. “I’d better put the kettle on.”
Knowing there was no way she could totally assuage her father’s
anger, Toby took a deep breath and launched into a full report
of the day’s activities, starting when she’d first arrived
at Miss Twilly’s. When she finished, Detective Morgan sent the
two patrolmen, with Pete as a guide, to the barn to see what
they could find.
“I – I don’t understand,” Miss Twilly said. “Gerald
was always such a nice boy. I don’t see why he’d get messed
up in something like this.”
“Hmm,” Detective Morgan mused. “You said that Gerald lives
in Nevada?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” Miss Twilly confirmed.
“Does he live anywhere near Las Vegas?”
“Why, yes, he does. Quite near, as a matter of fact.”
“Miss Twilly, I’m not a gambling man, but if I were, I’d
bet anything that Gerald’s found the casinos in Vegas too
enticing, and that this ‘Big Louie’ is a loan shark who
loaned Gerald some money, which Gerald now isn’t able to pay
back.”
“Oh, my. Oh, my,” the old woman sighed, sounding very
disappointed.
“The need for money can make people do desperate things,”
Detective Morgan concluded.
Pete and the two patrolmen returned a short while later. “There
was no sign of him,” one of the policemen reported. “We
found signs of a struggle, but the barn was empty.”
“He probably came to and decided to make himself scarce,”
the detective said. “We’ll get an APB out.”
“What about Pete?” asked Toby.
The policemen exchanged glances. “What about him?” Detective
Morgan responded.
“Are ... are you going to arrest him?”
“Hmm ... well ... it’s pretty obvious that this wasn’t his
idea ... so, no, unless either of you want to press charges?”
Both Toby and Miss Twilly emphatically shook their heads no.
“Okay, then. We’ll have to find someplace for him to stay
tonight –“
“He can stay here,” Miss Twilly declared.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. I’ll make up the guest bedroom. He can stay
with me while we sort things out.”
“Okay, that should about wrap things up, then.” The
detective turned to Toby. “Some one will come by your house
tomorrow to get a formal statement, but until then, you’re
free to go.”
Frank O’Keefe gathered his daughter up in his arms. “Say
good night, Toby,” he instructed.
“Good night, Miss Twilly. Good night, Pete,” the girl said.
“Good night, Toby,” they replied.
The O’Keefe family headed outside, where Frank loaded Toby
into their car. “My bicycle –“ she said.
“I’ll come back and get it tomorrow,” her father replied.
“Right now, we’ve got to get you home. And when we do, we’re
going to have a long talk about your actions tonight, Tobia
Robin!”
“Frank, your blood pressure,” Caitlin O’Keefe murmured
soothingly.
Toby groaned. It had already been a long night, but it looked
like it wasn’t nearly over yet.
Two weeks passed before Toby’s parents relented and let her
visit Miss Twilly again. As she climbed off her bicycle, she was
surprised to see Pete in the front garden. Unlike their last
encounter, he wore a light blue work shirt with the sleeves
rolled up, bib overalls, and workboots. “Toby!” he said
happily and, before she could react, he picked her up in a
(surprisingly gentle) bear hug.
“Er, hi, Pete, it’s good to see you, too,” she replied
nervously. Even though he wasn’t holding her nearly as tight
as the other night, she still felt apprehensive, given her
experiences last time she’d been in this position.
Miss Twilly appeared in the doorway. “You can put her down
now, Pete,” she said.
“Okay, Miss Twilly,” Pete replied, returning the girl to her
feet.
“It’s good to see you again, Toby,” the old woman greeted
the BlueJay scout.
“It’s good to see you, too,” Toby responded. “Have you,
uh, heard anything about, uh, Gerald?”
Miss Twilly shook her head. “I’m afraid not. The police are
still looking, but there’s been no sign of him.”
“I see.” Toby tried to find a tactful way to ask what she
wanted to know next.
“I’ve sold the urn.” Miss Twilly seemed to have read her
mind. “A museum in New York gave me a very good price for it.
I’m putting most of the money into a trust fund for Pete, so
he’ll be taken care of after I’m gone.” She looked over at
the huge man. “He does have a kind heart ... and he’s very
handy around the house.”
The two stood in silence for a bit longer before Miss Twilly
focused her attention back on Toby. “Well. How about we finish
‘The Italian Affair’?”
Toby couldn’t help making a face. “Do we have to? I mean, it’s
so obvious that the thief is the – is the –“
“Is the gardener?” Miss Twilly finished. “Of course, it’s
the gardener. I knew that as soon as we found out that the
chauffer was left-handed.”
“Oh.” Toby considered for a moment. “Then why read it?”
“When I was young – just about your age – my father took
us on a vacation to Venice. I saw all the places that are
described in that book. It was the most wonderful summer of my
life. Hearing about the city again is helping me relive those
memories. Sometimes, Toby, it’s not the destination, it’s
the journey.”
“I see.” Toby hadn’t thought about it that way. There was
one more thing she needed to do, though. “Will – will you
excuse me for a minute, please?”
“Certainly, dear.”
Toby walked around to the back side of the house. Miss Twilly
and Pete followed her. She looked around carefully. “What are
you looking for, dear?” the ex-schoolteacher finally asked.
“This is where I tripped, when Pete was chasing me,” the
girl explained. “I wanted to see what I tripped over, but ...
“ She looked at the level, even dirt. “I don’t see
anything.” No rocks, no plants, no tree roots, nothing. “What
could I have tripped over?”
From the shadows of the dense stand of trees nearby, in a shade
too dark to be cast by day, Usikujumba looked on. Yes, Miss O’Keefe,
he thought, that’s exactly the question. What did trip you
that night? And what made Pete squeeze you harder than he meant
to? And what was it that ran over your leg in the old barn?
No, Miss O’Keefe, you haven’t completely solved this
mystery. But don’t worry. You’ll have another chance ...
sooner than you might think.
_________________
Usikujumba, Lord of the Night
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