…and ignore the catcalls and whistles they have heard constantly since their early teens. They are smartly dressed and coifed. They speak to the bouncer and show him cards, and he releases Alice, who tries to follow the little man. But he eludes her. All she can get is pictures and a facial likeness she remembers well enough to draw. She is at least partially satisfied and rejoins us.
Jane and Louise meet us at a booth.
“There are a number of things we have to settle before you proceed with the disposition of that ordnance.”
“Go on,” I say.
Louise continues. 'The gnomes. We looked at those Minolta and infrared shots and only six of the 171 extra gnomes showed signs of life. I don’t know whether Daniel told you–he should have by now–"
Alice interrupts. “Oh, yes–he said those were just more gnomes put there by Erdmann. They were all stamped ‘East End Foundry’ on the bottom. Don’t ask me why a foundry was manufacturing gnomes. And when Tigner died the six spies lost their contact–and mysteriously disappeared. They may have drowned in Lake Merrit near Oakland, when a boat sank.”
Alice hadn’t said anything about this to me. Maybe Daniel told her this while I was in the Trailer Zone. 
“The stolen books,” Louise continues." The tracking devices–yes, there were several–seem to lead to an abandoned warehouse–yes, I know it’s a cliche-- :rolleyes: about 65 miles from here. What’s unusual is that about nine out of ten people who work in that warehouse are left-handed." (This gets a raised eyebrow from Alice, who is herself left-handed, as I found out at the carnival.)
“Besides, I think somebody connected with that warehouse makes regular trips to the college cafeteria–the warehouse has a legtitmate function, receiving deliveries of utensils and non-perishable foods for the cafeteria. Two warehouse employees named Douglas Grover and Cyril Yates go to the college. They may be on Tigner’s level.”
Jane speaks up. I notice that they are leaning their torsos forward–Louise’s is almost identical to Alice’s–to emphasize their large breasts. The statuesque Jane Bradley shows only a tiny bit of cleavage. “We have a way we may trip them up. We’ll act as decoys.”
I’m not so sure about that. “That’s not so good an idea,” I say. “Taking a risk with two men you don’t know–they could be armed!”
“So are we!” Jane replies. “I carry a .357 magnum. Louise uses a Luger, and we’ve both reached Seventh Dan in karate. But we prefer to outsmart men–and we’ve both done it countless times.”
I sense that from as visually appealing as Jane and Louise are, they probably have found such action wise.
I ask, “How do you intend to trap them?”
“I’ll leave that to Stan’s old company commander, Harry Rudolph.” Yes, the Harry Rudolph who, with his son Laurance, tried to trick Alice at the carnival. Captain Rudolph was indeed the CO for Stan Brown and Joe Bradley when they were in the Marines. “He knows a lot of tricks of the trade–any trade. He heard about your trailer-park episode from Galloway and asked to help. He didn’t even ask for money.” 
Jane and Louise arrange another meeting time and place; we all exchange cell-phone numbers. He split up and the two women leave the place, still getting reactions from men who might be afraid to actually approach them. Those vibes.
Alice and I return to her car and go back to her place. She can tell I have relented on the wings.
“I really dropped the ball on that,” I say glumly. I’m really sorry, Alice. I let an arrongant macho attitude get the better of me…"
She isn’t angry. “We all make mistakes. Wings are wings. Still, I hope my point was well taken.”
“I certainly was, love.” I sense I am picking up some British accent and idiom in all the time we’ve been together.
We get back to her place. Paul and Eda pay no attention to me planning to stay the night with Alice in her bedroom in the main house; I really seem to have charmed them.
In the bedroom we change into night clothes: me in T-shirt and pajama pants; Alice into a sheer nightie. And, as usual, we spend much time seated on a loveseat, in a very long conversation dealing with the loose ends Jane and Louise pointed out we have yet to tie up.
“You think they can smoke out the rest of those characters?”
“Who knows? We didn’t do so bad with Lemoyne and Tigner, Besides, Harry seems to be a con man like Harry Anderson’s character on Cheers. And Jane and Louise are two smart cookies themselves. Louise certainly gives the appearance of considerable wisdom.”
I move back slightly to admire Alice–sitting there as she is in glasses and nightie, with her shapely figure showing through it. “Now that you mention it, I guess she does.” I mean this as a compliment to Alice and she thus perceives it.
We head for bed and sleep soundly. Rested and fortified, we start off the next day…
for R. Kane Books–a rare and used bookstore Alice knows about that’s located near the university.
“I’ve gotten more useful books there then anywhere else I know,” Alice says to me in her car. “My network also uses it as a drop-off point when we exchange information. When we were doing on-line research the other day, I e-mailed everybody in the network to see if they had any leads. Maybe there’ll be some interesting stuff waiting for us when we get there.”
“Is there any danger your e-mail could get into the wrong hands?” I say with concern.
“No,” Alice quickly answers. “All e-mail communication is in code that only members of my network know. So far, nobody outside has been able to break it.”
We pull into an open parking spot in front of R. Kane’s, which is housed in a narrow 19th century three-story brick building. The business’ name is spelled out in gothic letters on a red neon sign underneath which, in smaller Roman text, reads, “Est. 1923.”
A bell rings as Alice and I walk through the door. I look the place over and see that every nook and cranny is stuffed with reading material of some sort. Seated at the cashier’s desk near the front door is the clerk–a thin waifish young woman in her early 20’s with long straight dirty blonde hair and a sullen expression on her face. Like Alice, she has big anime-type eyes that burn with intensity but, unlike Alice’s, her eyes are green rather than brown. She stops reading her book of Maya Angelou poetry and looks up at us.
“Hello, Alice,” the clerk says in a subdued voice. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is ," Alice says pleasantly in a tone that’s a marked contrast from the clerk’s. "_, this is Gwen Berry. She knows everything about this bookstore. If you have any questions, ask her.”
“Hi, Gwen,” I say politely. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise pleased,” Gwen says in a voice bordering on sarcasm. “Oh, there was a guy in here this morning who had a message to give you. He left it with me.”
Gwen reaches under the counter and pulls out a small white envelope with Alice’s name on it.
“What did he look like?” Alice asks.
“He was tall, wore a dark raincoat, and had these really old Levi’s on with Doc Merten’s,” Gwen informs us with a flat voice. “He also seemed kind of old but I really couldn’t tell because he had his collar turned up around his face and wore an old fedora.”
“Anybody you know?” I ask Alice.
“Might be,” she answers. “Let’s find out what’s in the envelope.”
Alice rips open the envelope and pulls out a slip of paper. We both read it together and see, to our shock, that it reads…
…as follows: Alice rips open the envelope and pulls out a slip of paper. We both read it together and see, to our, shock, that it reads… We turned to each other in a mix of awe and bilwilderment, and that was when Alice started screaming…
…as some kind of white powder came off of the paper onto her hands. She dropped the paper, which immediately caught fire and burned away to nothing. Alice was desperately rubbing her hands, trying to get the unknown substance off of her. “Go wash them’” I suggest, “Quickly!” Alice started to run for the bathroom in the back of the store, but she didn’t get more than a few steps before she collapsed.
Gwen called 911 and Alice was rushed to the hospital. I called the Terwilligers, and they met me in the hospital’s waiting room.
After what seemed like an eternity, a doctor came out and gave us the news: Alice was in a coma. They couldn’t figure out what the white powdery chemical was, and they had no idea when she would wake up.
After a long discussion with the Terwilligers, we decide that they should stay at the hospital with Alice, while I go out to look for the old man who gave Gwen the envelope.
I walk out of the hospital. Right outside the door is…
…my old English professor, Timothy McGowan–not the John McGowan Alice had torn into. He’s a dignified older man who speaks with a light, lilting Scottish burr. I greet him, but he is in a very serious mood. “Some poisonous chemicals have been stolen from the science building,” he says. “One of them was white arsenic.”
“Professor–could that cause a reaction in Alice such as she suffered? She actually passed out!”
“It depends. She may have a severe allergy to it–usually white arsenic is not toxic unless ingested.” Chemistry-oriented Dopers, help me with this.–d.m.
I’m clutching at straws, but I decide to help this along. “Professor, have any of these chemicals been connected with the cafeteria? I’m not being sarcastic.” (I’m thinking of Grover and Yates, two likely suspects.)
“Yes, some have turned up there as well as a few other buildings–admissions, the gym, the dorms–” Now that worries me too. He continues, “But outside contractors are being investigated as possible suspects.” That’s at least a little reassuring.
Then the doctor comes out, smiling slightly. He addresses me, Professor McGowan, and Lorna–who has appeared and senses what is going on. “Ms. Terwilliger will stay here a few hours for observation. The powder does seem to be white arsenic–As2O3–but she has an odd sensitivity to it.”
I just hope the doctor won’t notice Alice’s wings. :rolleyes: I thank the doctor and Lorna and I go to a waiting area nearby, where we can sit down; Alice’s parents and brothers, more optimistic now, stay with her. I tell Lorna about the bookstore–and her face shows her reaction. She is furious.
“I have never trusted the people at that store! I assume you and Alice have not been in that store in the last three months!”
“I never have. I don’t know when she was there last.”
“The clerk there–a green-eyed minx named Gwen–she is the most mendacious person I have met in my life! [Lorna is so angry now I fear she may explode.] I went in that store before the term started and she handed me a note she said was from Jock. It had parathion all over it! That’s a deadly pesticide that’s pretty much illegal now–”
I interrupt long enough to call Alice’s room. Paul, Alice’s dad, asnwers. I tell him what Lorna told me; and I can hear him speaking to the doctor about parathion. Then he comes on the line again and says “They’ll test her for that. Alice is resting comfortably and they expect her to be released tomorrow morning.”
I apologize to Lorna for interrupting. But she heard my side of the conversation. “Gwen lies through her teeth…she prepared that envelope herself. The letter wasn’t from Jock. I think she wanted me out of the way so she could go after Jock.”
“You know, Lorna, I think he may be able to help here!” Lorna knows what I’m thinking. I call Jock–who is on station duty this week–and he says they’ll check this out. I suspect Lemoyne’s company is still in operation and manufactures parathion–now legal in California only for corporate farms such as are in the Central Valley. “Jock said if they are behind this–and Alice was attacked with parathion–the State will close Lemoyne’s business, operating without him now, in nothing flat.” I sense that this will be a severe blow to any overlord of Lemoyne’s. I wait until late that night; Lorna and I discuss other matters. I haven’t told her about the wings and I doubt Alice did either. Still a little shaken, I return to my dorm–which had been cleared of contaminants hours before.
I return to the hospital in the morning. Paul and Eda are in much better spirits now–and so is Alice herself, with heavy gloves over her hands as a precaution (and no sign that anyone saw the wings); the attendants wheel her out to the Terwilligers’ land rover. They help her into the car and I get in beside her; we embrace, tearfully and carefully. “How are you?” I ask quickly. “What happened to your hands?”
She smiles weakly. “They just burned slightly–the doctor gave me some treatment. He said to take the gloves off in two hours or so. After you called Dad about parathion they tested me for it. I’ve been better for a while.” I know she is happy about her recovery but I still notice the faintest beginnings of tears welling up in those big brown eyes. She is in need of intensive hug therapy and I am only too happy to provide it.
I tell about Jock and the investigation. Alice grimly decides that when she’s in better fettle she’ll use contacts to check out Grover and Yates, and Lemoyne’s company’s manufacture of parathion.
“I think it’s time to engage Laurance Rudolph in this. He’s a budding con artist like his dad and he’d be useful indeed here.”
We get to the Terwilligers’ house. Eda insists Alice get to bed right away, and tells me I may stay as long as I want. She prepares some Earl Grey Tea; she leaves a large pot for Alice and me to share. “I’ll be out in the parlor if you need me,” she tells Alice.
“Thank you, Mum,” Alice answers.
When Eda closes the door, Alice asks me to come closer. First she gives me a surprise kiss. Then she tells me–in a voice subdued only by dint of her need to recover–what she has been thinking about: How to get Laurance started assisting us, and what suspicions she has about Grover and Yates, and Gwen, and even those six spies we believe drowned in Lake Merritt.
We spend the next six hours in this confidential discussion–interrupted only by a call from Jock, who says Gwen is under arrest and the health department has closed the bookstore to check it for parathion and other noxious chemicals.
Meanwhile, Alice tells me about Laurance and the warehouse workers…
…but I don’t pay the slightest bit of attention to that. I’m far more entertained by the naked Turkish Dwarves, one male, one female, tight rope walking on a nylon string stretched across the nurses station, with sockfulls of elephant dung balanced from their outstetched arms, which aren’t really arms, but day-old-loaves of French baguettes that only look suspiciously like arms. It’s a mistake anyone could make. And then there was the man on the unicycle to check out, and the elephants, the upside-down mime, the life-sized black-and-white repro of Grant Wood’s American Gothic, not to mention the flock of nine-foot tall purple-haired lesbians with nipple-rings making out inside the Fruitopia vending machine, which I couldn’t even see inside of because vending machines of such a nature are stricktly opaque. Anyway, that’s not the point. I tuned back into Alice and her boring as hell little narrative, just as she was finishing up…
and that they share an interest in chess.
“Grover and Yates belong to a local chess club,” states Alice. “Laurance, from what I’ve heard, is a pretty good player in his own right but isn’t a member of the club. I think if he joins this club and makes a connection with Grover and Yates, Laurance will find out a lot.”
Alice and I then hear a noise downstairs. Since everyone else in the house has gone to bed, we’re a bit concerned and quietly walk down into the living room. There, fluttering about room on fairy wings and eating a large Winesap, is Gwen. When she sees us, she lands on the ground.
“Hello, Alice,” Gwen says with a slight grin. “I was worried about you so, after I was released on bail, I decided to fly by the house for a short visit.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve breaking into a house at night,” I angrily say to Gwen while not mentioning the fact she has wings like Alice and myself.
“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me,” Gwen says. "I came by because I have something you should know…
She says, “That’s the silliest movie trailer you’ve ever seen, isn’t it?”
“Indeed it is.”
Alice stays where she is, in her own bedroom in the parents’ house, and lays low for two days, so she’ll recover fully from the parathion. She swears she’ll send Orange Skinner a razzing note about the kitschy circus preview.
After the two days have passed–and I know we’ll be going to court in a few days, according to our subpoenas for a preliminary hearing–Alice and I go back out into the catacombs, and fly out around the mirrored circle, inspecting it thoroughly. We sense that it’s very solidly anchored into the ground and it would take a catastrophe of literally earth-shaking proportions (and I don’t mean an earthquake) to dislodge or topple it.
We go into her secret bedroom so she can give me her plan concerning Laurance Rudolph and what to do about Grover and Yates. And she adds, sharply, "And listen good this time!!"
[In reference to NDP’s thread of 01-04]:
“I think I know what you have–incredible nerve. The last time I heard about you, you were in custody after Officer Dumfries arrested you.”
Gwen is so angry that I mentioned Jock–whom she tried to steal from Lorna by using the parathion envelope–she leaves in a huff–but not before assuring us she’ll be back. And she almost looks like Margaret Hamilton’s Wicked Witch of the West as she scoots out the window.
We take another look at the circus movie trailer just after Gwen uses the I’ll-be-back line, in order to connect up with the last thread posted by dougie_monty…
“I thought I heard you right the last time,” I tell Alice. “Didn’t you say that you were going to get Laurance to join the chess club that Grover and Yates are in and try to earn their trust?”
“Yes, but that’s only part of the plan,” she explains. “Once Laurance becomes friends with Grover and Yates, he’ll tell them that he’s unemployed and ask for their help in getting a job at the warehouse.”
“I don’t know,” I say doubtfully. “This plan depends on too many ‘ifs’. How good a con is Laurance and does he really think that he’ll be able to convince Grover and Yates to back him for a job? Also, what if the warehouse isn’t hiring? The economy’s is pretty sluggish right now.”
“I have total faith in Laurance,” Alice says. “I’ve already discussed the plan with him and he says that the members of the chess club are extremely tight and are always helping each other get jobs. As for the warehouse, Laurance tells me that the place has–shall we say–a high turnover rate. Once he gets Grover’s and Yates’ backing, getting a job there should be no problem. However–”
Alice pauses and a worried look comes over her face.
“I am concerned about that ‘high turnover rate,’” she says. “Not so much for us but Laurance. I think we may be putting him in harm’s way.”
“What do you mean by ‘high turnover rate?’” I ask.
“A number of warehouse employees have turned up missing over the last few years,” Alice says quietly. “A few others have also met with sudden accidents or illnesses that left them either incapacitated or dead. The other employees there mostly keep mum about what’s going on so there’s never been a successful investigation by the authorities of the warehouse’s working conditions. Also, as you probably already guessed, it’s non-union so there’s been no flack on that front.”
“Laurance does know the potential danger he’s getting into–doesn’t he?”
“He seems to know. It certainly didn’t seem to bother him when we discussed it. I guess he just accepts this as an occupational hazard.”
“How are you going to compensate him? He’s putting a lot on the line for us.”
“Laurance and I have talked some figures but nothing’s solid yet. We’re going to meet him in a little while at a bar called Clautzy’s over by the industrial part of town. Then, I think we’ll be able to get everything started.”
Just then, we hear some light footsteps followed by a rapid fluttering noise outside the door. I open the door to investigate and see nothing in the hallway except of a paper bag with Alice’s name on it.
“After what happened last time, I think you should open this first,” Alice says to me upon seeing the bag.
Not wanting her to come upon further harm, I open the bag and discover a black stick with a shiny point on top and a card that reads, “You’re in the running.”
“What does that mean?” asks Alice.
“Apparently you’re in the running for something,” I answer. “Do you want a look at your stick?”
“You hold on to it for a little while,” Alice says. “I’m still leery about receiving gifts from strangers. Oh, do you think we were too hasty in dismissing Gwen?”
“I don’t think so,” I tell Alice after putting the mysterious black stick back in the bag. “She tried to poison you then broke into your house in the middle of the night. She deserved a lot worse than simply being rebuked.”
“But I was just thinking that maybe Gwen is no worse than a pawn in this whole game,” Alice says as we head out of her secret room and back to the house. “I’m thinking that the parathion was not so much as an attempt to poison me but rather a message. A warning that if we get too close, we’ll get burned. The fact that I suffered a reaction to the parathion wasn’t part of the plan.”
“So you think Gwen might know something?” I say as we enter the house.
“She might,” Alice answers. “She did seem a bit contrite when we found her in the house. And don’t forget, she knows everything about what’s in that bookstore.”
“But what about the previous incident with Lorna and Jock?”
“Maybe Jock, as a part of his work, was on to the same thing we’re on to but didn’t realize it,” suggests Alice as she picks up her car keys. “So, he and Lorna just took it as a spiteful attack by a spurned would-be admirer.”
“What you’re saying is possible,” I tell Alice. “But I’m still going with Lorna’s explanation until I find proof otherwise. Oh, do want to take your ‘gift’ and ‘card’ with you?”
“Put it upstairs in my room,” she requests. “Maybe when we get back I’ll have enough nerve to finally hold it.”
Complying with Alice, I run up to her room and leave the bag with the strange stick inside on her bed. I then hurry outside and get into Alice’s car.
The trip to Clautzy’s is short and uneventful. We pull into the parking lot, get out of the car, and walk inside, There, we…
…meet Professor Fields, who asks us to get in his car. He makes it sound urgent.
In the car, he says, “Remember that piece of paper with your number and George Galloway’s? The handwriting didn’t match Tigner’s; and when people were able to salvage materials from the sunken building they found more such papers, in the same handwriting.”
“Make it a little plainer, Professor.”
“After the parathion episode, Lemoyne’s property was seized and searched. We found some suspicious letters with that same handwriting; this may be the overlord we’ve been searching for. A transplanted London magnate named Henry Sikes-Potter.”
Even Alice doesn’t know the name.
“Remember, you have a court date Tuesday morning. Criminal charges are pending against Lemoyne. From what I’ve seen he’s cooked and he knows it.” We leave the car and Fields drives off. We mull over what he’s told us.
“We still need to deal with Laurance,” muses Alice, “and where to find him work…” She now sits on my lap with our faces so close together we must take our glasses off.
I notice a “help wanted” sigjn on Clautz’s front window. We put two and two together and…
…got -7.
“Damn reality shifts!” I exclaim. “They’re even affecting basic math now!”
“Let’s try it again,” Alice says calmly.
And so we do.
Just then, Laurance walks in Clautzy’s. He’s carrying a suitcase with him indicating he’s ready to do business.
Laurance walks over to the table where Alice and I are sitting and says…
“Well, if it isn’t beauty and the beast!” He addresses Alice specifically: “Well, Lefty, we meet again!”
“My name is Alice Terwilliger,” she answers with dignity. “The bartender is looking for someone to work after hours. We understood you were looking for a second job.”
“Well, yeah, Limey, I—”
“Don’t you call me Limey!” Alice says sternly, without raising her voice. “The bartender is inside. He’s taking applications.”
Laurance goes in and I comment, “Oh, second job. I assume he’s still working at the carnival.”
“And I asked the bartender to have him call us tomorrow. Dad and Mr. Galloway will pay Laurance to spy on Grover and Yates—Lorna says he’s well known as a whistleblower in the carnival game—he’s been hailed by carneys and customers alike. He sees and reports thefts, trespasses, drunkenness…”
“Well, that takes care of the Lemoyne-and-Tigner matter for the moment. What else do you have in mind before we prepare for the appearance in court Tuesday morning?”
Alice answers, “I’d like to fly out and check out that mirrored circle and the stolen ordnance some more. I’ve been checking it out on websites.” She takes my hand. “Wouldn’t you like to fly out there some more?” She implies, of course, we have, to use a euphemism, some personal matters to take care of. 
“I certainly would”—here, I take her other hand and clasp it snugly—I blush as I manage to say, “my beloved.” Alice mischievously slips my hand, the one she took first, down the front of her sweater, as if to say, Feel my boobs.
Just at that point Laurance comes out the door and sees us. He lets out an impudent, amused snicker. We grimace back. From his manner I assume he got the job. He’ll probably start in a few days; he roars off on his motorcycle. We’ll contact him later about the warehouse.
Alice and I return to our routine of Internet research and exploring the mirrored circle and the site where the ordnance was buried—along with canoodling on the wing! We know, of course, we have to go to court on Tuesday and the Spring Semester at the college will start soon.
So, we head down to the catacombs. However, as we pass Alice’s secret bedroom, we notice a tiny envelope with Alice’s name on it resting on the doorknob. Since Alice still doens’t want to have anything to do with mysterious envelopes and gifts, I bravely open it up. Fortunately, there’s nothing but a slip of paper inside–nothing lethal.
I read it aloud to Alice, “Just a note to tell you that you’re still in the running. You’ll be getting some big news real soon. P.S.–Did you like the gift?”
“Whatever I’m in the running for, I don’t want to be,” Alice says. “Lately, I’ve developed a distaste for surprises.”
“It could be something good,” I sat as we walk down the hallway to where the hidden vent button is. “Although we don’t know who gave you those notes and the black stick, there doesn’t seem to be any malice on the part of whoever did. By the way, have you figured out what that stick is supposed to be?”
“No, I still haven’t gotten up the courage to even pick it up,” Alice says. “Maybe that’s something we can do after we look the mirrored circle. As for the intentions of whovever left those notes, I’m worried that they could just be trying to get my defenses down before they strike.”
“Well, I can’t criticize you for having that attitude,” I say as I reach down to remove the vent screen and push the button inside. “That incident at the bookstore would put anyone on edge. And, don’t forget, there are a lot of people who want to stop us.”
The hidden trap door opens in the floor and we step down the newly revealed stairway. Upon emerging into the strange desert valley, Alice, who had the foresight to wear a backless black dress for this trip, immediately takes wing. I didn’t think ahead so I have to take off my shirt and tie it around my waist before joining Alice in the air.
Upon getting to the plateau with the mirrored circle, we discover something new: about 100 feet in front of it is a Starbuck’s stand.
Alice and I look at the franchise coffee shop and then, bemused, look at each other.
“This isn’t exactly a high-traffic location,” she comments.
“Maybe they’re expecting this area to really take off,” I say. “Do you need a caffeine fix?”
“Sure,” Alice says. “It’s worth a look and it is almost tea time.”
We walk through the door of the Starbucks and see…
…Professor Fields, who invites us to his table. Hermoine, Alice’s sister-in-law, on plainclothes duty, is with him.
“That’s an unusual envelope,” he tells Alice. I don’t see many square ones that size. Where did you get it?" He also noticed the message on the outside of the envelope, in 24-point Cooper Black (the typeface used on the titles for the TV series MASH).* “Where did you get it?”
Alice naively answers, “It was resting on the doorknob of a basement door.”
Fields’ eyes narrow and he grimaces with suspicion.
“Alice!” Hermione says sotto voce. “Hand me that envelope!” (Hermione knows about the secret room and the catacombs in general, but Prof. Fields does not.) “You don’t know who put it there!”
Alice, as it happens, has a fingerprint kit with her, including “mag powder,” used to reveal fingerprints on paper. She examines the envelope professionally; before Alice can react, Hermione takes her left (dominant) hand and checks the fingerprints against Alice’s fingers.
“Two of these don’t match yours, Alice…” Hermione seems to act as a concerned and reproachful big sister here. “I’ll take this to the crime lab.”
Fields says, “We have fingerprints for Lemoyne, Sparr, Beach, Grover, Yates–and even Tigner, in the discovery files. You should be more careful, Alice–remember the parathion!”
He also tells us Lemoyne’s business has been seized and shut down; it’ll probably be auctioned publicly.
Hermione also says, “During the seziure a very small man was discovered. He tried to run but we had two patrolemn who were on the U. S. Olympic team in Sydney–they tackled him. He’s staying quiet, but no one has called for him. And bail was denied.”
[Incidentally, Alice and I sense that neither Hermione nor Professor Fields has seen or can see our wings.]
“Tell us more!” Alice and I say in unison.
[Error–it was Hermione with the fingerprint kit, not Alice.] :o
“But before you do, I must mention a few things,” I add. “First, I opened up the envelope and handled the card before Alice did, so my fingerprints are on there too. Second, the first message Alice got came in a bag with a strange gift–a black stick with a shiny tip on one end. After what happened at the bookstore, we’ve been a bit gun-shy to closely examine the stick so Alice left it in her bedroom at her house. Finally, just before we found the bag with the stick and the message inside, we heard the noise of light footsteps followed by fluttering. What all this other stuff means, I don’t know–but you might have an idea.”
“Well, that adds more pieces to the puzzle,” says Fields as he sips his vanilla latte`.
“Yes,” Hermione agrees. "In fact, I can now clearly state…
that the small man who was taken into custody during the seizure of Lemoyne’s business is connected to those mysterious gifts that were left outside your door. In fact, he likely was the one who left them there."
“What did he mean when he wrote that I was ‘in the running?’” Alice asks.
Hermione takes a gulp of her iced Americano. I wonder why no one’s said anything about Alice’s wings yet. (Mine are covered up by my shirt which I put on upon my seeing the coffee shop’s “No Shirt, No Service” sign before I entered.)
“On that part, we’re not quite sure,” Hermione says. "But are sure …
[Error–the last line should read: “On that part, we’re not quite sure,” Hermione says. "But we are sure…]