"The infestation of moths resulted in the inspection of the site by the state health department and the U. S. Geological Survey. Otherwise featureless, the site included a small pond behind the site of the structure, where mosquitoes had been breeding. [I had sensed that this pond itself might as well have disappeared: the only pond I had seen near the Berrys’ house had oil on the water, and thus could not support mosquitoes or any other life. No other life=no moths.]
“The U. S. Geological Survey reported nothing unusual in the ground except for a long tunnel, extending from a point 200 feet south of the house in one direction and a point 11 miles away in the other direction, in the Civic Center. So far no local records have been located to account for the tunnel, whose inside diameter is approximately 80 feet.”
I figure that, inasmuch as the stratum of rock in the area of Alice’s home is granite, the tunnel would have to have been dug as a deliberately-planned endeavor.
Alice comments, “We must assume, of course, that the house in the article is the Berrys’ house. If not we’ll have to account for the moths some other way.”
“Let’s go back to Mary Blonda with this–and not show her Gwen’s picture. [:D] She may not yet have identified the moth but she can probably tell us where it would have lived after the fauna around the pond disappeared, and on what.”
“I’m not familiar with the average moth’s menu,” Alice answers.
So we write all this up, including making sketches of the site of the house, the layout of the street, the Berry’s house’s site, and the Terwilligers’ property across the street from it. We call Mary and arrange to meet her at her home in a few days.
Meanwhile, Paul and Eda are momentarily away from the house–a dental appointment Paul had was rescheduled for about 8:30 that morning; they supposed they would not be home when Paul’s uncle arrived. Alice and I would be at the house, however.
About 12:15 in the afternoon I was reading in the living room, and Alice was tending to minor matters in the hallway, when I heard a car approach. It was a taxi (more dependable now) pulling up in the driveway. I saw an older, dignified-looking man get out, and the cabbie took two suitcases out of the trunk. I opened the front door just as the two men approached.
“Good afternoon,” said the older man. “I’m looking for Paul and Eda Terwilliger.”
I greet him politely and motion for him to enter. I take the suitcases from the cabbie; the older man pays him, including a generous tip. The cabbie leaves. The man sits down.
“I am Doctor Matthew Lucas Terwilliger, Paul’s uncle.”
“Mr. And Mrs. Terwilliger should be back soon. He had a dental appointment.”
Before he can respond to this Alice, having heard the conversation, steps out of the hallway and approaches him. “Uncle Matthew!” she says happily.
“Lissie!” he says. Alice approaches and they embrace. “Good Heavens, Lissie–how you’ve grown! You were a tot of 5 when I was here last–and now you’re a comely young miss!” She reacts with modesty to his compliment.
The Doctor turns to me. “Young man, you are indeed lucky to have a wife such as she…”
Alice and I blush deeply. We say simultaneously, “No, Sir, we are not married”–and I hear Alice add, “no plans yet.”
YET? I think. I’d do well to wait and ask Alice about that later.
The Doctor and Alice now start a long conversation. She tells about her school, her music, and her computer research; nothing about the wings, the gnomes, the gunshots, Lemoyne, the day in court…
In a few minutes Paul and Eda return, with Arthur, Daniel, Winifred, and Hermione in the car. They come in and there is another series of greetings, including the Doctor’s comments about how Arthur and Daniel have grown and the lovely lasses (both in uniform, incidentally) they married.
Alice and I politely excuse ourselves and go into the den. We know, however, that the Doctor came to talk about Sikes-Potter, and that, of course, will mean more to Alice than to anyone else in the household…
Alice and I take a long break from the work. We play some light music on the CD player, and enjoy a lunch of apples, tea, and crackers.
“So what’s next?” I ask.
“I’d like to get back to Gwen, assuming she doesn’t make any more surprise visits. Maybe she’d show more discretion when we have company.”
“Do you want to tell her about our wings?”
“NO! We still don’t know how she got hers. Granted she isn’t so black as Lorna has painted her but if she comes in here unannounced and uninvited she may have an unspoken motive. We’ll meet her at the bookstore, or the college; remember, next week we go back.”
“Yeah, I forgot…”
Then Daniel comes in and says impudently, “Oh Lissie, Mum has lunch ready.”
“Don’t call me Lissie!” Alice snarls with the usual contempt Sister has for Brother. She throws a small pillow at him and he scoots out of the room. 
I comment, “Hey, he’s the one with the gnome collection…”
“Don’t you start!” She picks up a pillow and playfully bops me over the head with it. Then she turns and embraces me closely.
Daniel steps back in the room and jeers, “Kiss and hug, kiss and hug, smack your sweetie on the mug…”
“I’ll smack you in the bum with my foot!” she retorts as Daniel slips out of the room again, laughing.
We go in to the kitchen for lunch.
Before we’re done, the Doctor gets serious with his explanation of the Sikes-Potter matter, which, I sense, may be connected to the mirror-mystic incident in the desert scene…
The infestation of moths resulted in the inspection of the site by the state health department and the U. S. Geological Survey. Otherwise featureless, the site included a small pond behind the site of the structure, where mosquitoes had been breeding. [I had sensed that this pond itself might as well have disappeared: the only pond I had seen near the Berrys’ house had oil on the water, and thus could not support mosquitoes or any other life. No other life=no moths.]
The U. S. Geological Survey reported nothing unusual in the ground except for a long tunnel, extending from a point 200 feet south of the house in one direction and a point 11 miles away, in the Civic Center. So far no local records have been located to account for the tunnel, whose inside diameter is approximately 80 feet."
I figure that, inasmuch as the stratum of rock in the area of Alice’s home is granite, the tunnel would have to have been dug as a deliberately-planned endeavor.
Alice comments, “We must assume, of course, that the house in the article is the Berrys’ house. If not we’ll have to account for the moths some other way.”
“Let’s go back to Mary Blonda with this–and not show her Gwen’s picture. [:D] She may not yet have identified the moth but she can probably tell us where it would have lived after the fauna around the pond disappeared, and on what.”
“I’m not familiar with the average moth’s menu,” Alice answers.
So we write all this up, including making sketches of the site of the house, the layout of the street, the Berry’s house’s site, and the Terwilligers’ property across the street from it. We call Mary and arrange to meet her at her home in a few days.
Meanwhile, Paul and Eda are momentarily away from the house–a dental appointment Paul had was rescheduled for about 8:30 that morning; they supposed they would not be home when Paul’s uncle arrived. Alice and I would be at the house, however.
About 12:15 in the afternoon I was reading in the living room, and Alice was tending to minor matters in the hallway, when I heard a car approach. It was a taxi (more dependable now) pulling up in the driveway. I saw an older, dignified-looking man get out, and the cabbie took two suitcases out of the trunk. I opened the front door just as the two men approached.
“Good afternoon,” said the older man. “I’m looking for Paul and Eda Terwilliger.”
I greet him politely and motion for him to enter. I take the suitcases from the cabbie; the older man pays him, including a generous tip. The cabbie leaves. The man sits down.
“I am Doctor Matthew Lucas Terwilliger, Paul’s uncle.”
“Mrs. And Mrs. Terwilliger should be back soon. He had a dental appointment.”
Before he can respond to this Alice, having heard the conversation, steps out of the hallway and approaches him. “Uncle Matthew!” she says happily.
“Lissie!” he says. Alice approaches and they embrace. “Good Heavens, Lissie–how you’ve grown! You were a tot of 5 when I was here last–and now you’re a comely young miss!” She reacts with modesty to his compliment.
The Doctor turns to me. “Young man, you are indeed lucky to have a wife such as she…”
Alice and I blush deeply. We say simultaneously, “No, Sir, we are not married”–and I hear Alice add, “no plans yet.”
YET? I think. I’d do well to wait and ask Alice about that later.
The Doctor and Alice now start a long conversation. She tells about her school, her music, and her computer research; nothing about the wings, ther gnomes, the gunshots, Lemoyne, the day in court…
In a few minutes Paul and Eda return, with Arthur, Daniel, Winifred, and Hermione in the car. They come in and there is another series of greetings, including the Doctor’s comments about how Arthur and Daniel have grown and the lovely lasses (both in uniform, incidentally) they married.
Alice and I politely excuse ourselves and go into the den. We know, however, that the Doctor came to talk about Sikes-Potter, and that, of course, will mean more to Alice than to anyone else in the household…
Alice and I take a long break from the work. We play some light music on the CD player, and enjoy a lunch of apples, tea, and crackers.
“So what’s next?” I ask.
“I’d like to get back to Gwen, assuming she doesn’t make any more surprise visits. Maybe she’d show more discretion when we have company.”
“Do you want to tell her about our wings?”
“NO! We still don’t know how she got hers. Granted she isn’t so black as Lorna has painted her but if she comes in here unannounced and uninvited she mnay have an unspoken motive. We’ll meet her at the bookstore, or the college; remember, next week we go back.”
“Yeah, I forgot…”
Then Daniel comes in and says impudently, “Oh Lissie, Mum has lunch ready.”
“Don’t call me Lissie!” Alice snarls with the usual contempt Sister has for Brother. She throws a small pillow at him and he scoots out of the room.
I comment, “Hey, he’s the one with the gnome collection…”
“Don’t you start!” She picks up a pillow and playfully bops me over the head with it. Then she turns and embraces me closely.
Daniel steps back in the room and jeers, “Kiss and hug, kiss and hug, smack your sweetie on the mug…”
“I’ll smack you in the bum with my foot!” she retorts as Daniel slips out of the room again, laughing.
We go in to the kitchen for lunch.
Before we’re done, the Doctor gets serious with his explanation of the Sikes-Potter matter, which, I sense, may be connected to the mirror-mystic incident in the desert scene…
[I apologize for this posting appearing twice. I could not get the server to acknowledge it the first time.–dougie_monty :o]
“Sikes-Potter,” the doctor explains, “was a theoretical physicist at Berkley. He theorized that time and space were intimately connected to personal perception, and that it should be possible to create a device that could alter reality. Supposedly, it involved a ‘magical’ gizmo that would reflect energy off of a huge mirror. There was also something about an alternate world existing behind the mirror. It was all a load of nonsense, of course.”
Alice and I give each other knowing looks 
“When he died,” I ask, “was anything, umm, unusual found in his home?”
“Strange thing,” the doctor replies, “but his house burned down less than an hour after he died. Police say that it was arson. Perhaps someone had a grudge.”
Alice and I give each other another pair of knowing looks. It was, of course, probably the woman on the phone (or an accomplice) who set the fire after getting Sikes-Potter’s device.
I brush a moth away from my plate. They seem to be infesting the house…
because that’s the fourth one I’ve seen in the last half-hour.
The doctor now notices the moths as well and he registers his acknowledgment with an uncomfortable look on this face.
“That moth,” he says while getting up from his chair. “Are these things common around here?”
“We’ve only seen them over the last few days,” Alice answers. “We don’t know what kind they are. We caught one and gave it to Mary Blonda–a lepidopterist friend of mine–for her to study. So far, she hasn’t identified it but the last time I talked with her, she said it was glowing and flying in an sideways-eight pattern.”
“The sign for infinity,” the doctor whispers as his face goes pale. “We’ve got to call your friend right now!”
Alice pulls out her cell and calls Mary.
“I’m getting nothing but a busy signal,” she tells everyone.
“Then we’ve got to get to her house immediately,” the doctor states. “Does she live far?”
“About 15 minutes from here,” Alice answers. “Why is this urgent?”
“I’ll explain on the way over,” the doctor replies.
Alice, the doctor, and I all quickly get into her car. I drive the car so Alice will be able to call Mary on her cell phone, which she does after we pull out of the driveway. Again, a busy signal.
“Do you know if anybody else has seen these moths?” the doctor asks.
“We just came across a newspaper article that’s a few years old that mentions people in a local neighborhood were seeing swarms of them right before an old house mysteriously disappeared,” Alice explains.
“Where was that in town?”
“On the south 23rd block of Knight Street–that’s one of the oldest neighborhoods in town.”
“Well, I want you to go to the lot where that house was right after we check on your friend. God, this situation is more dire than I thought.”
When the doctor says this, my stomach begins gnawing at me. I know this is not good.
“What exactly is going on with the moths and why should we be worried about it?” I ask the doctor.
“It’s this,” he says. "Those moths …
I get Paul and Eda’s permission to have Mary Blonda–and her brother Mark Smith, a biology professor–come over the next day, a difficult notion what with the rector visiting. Mary seems a little impatient that I called her again so soon, but she voices some concern when I tell her the moths are in the house. But like most moths they don’t really like light, so at most they’d appear during twilight.
From what the Doctor said, Salbert the skeleton was quite accurate with his message about us solving the mystery of the mirror. It would seem that Sikes-Potter, as well as the mystic, was hoist by his own petard when the explosion of the ordnance deflected the whammy from Alice and me. He goes into more detail, which is absorbing for the others in the family, but immensely fascinating and satisfying for Alice and me, since there’s so much that we know that they don’t, even omitting the wings, Gwen, Daniel’s gnomes, and Lemoyne’s crookery.
We press Uncle Matthew for information on an investigation of the fire. He answers, “That is continuing; even if I knew anything about it I would not be at liberty to divulge such information.” Alice and I understand this and nod.
Before dinner, Alice and I go into a long discussion in the den, interrupted twice by her pesky brother Daniel jeering us about the tryst he supposes we are conducting. The second time, Uncle Matthew pulls him into the hallway, saying, “Do not upset their applecart!” He obeys.
Alice says she wants to confirm whether the house mentioned in the story is in fact the Berrys’ house. If it is, we will have some more sleuthing to do, and need to contact the Geological Survey again, as well as ask Gwen about it–obliquely, of course, since Alice doesn’t want to let Gwen know about our greater objective.
And tomorrow afternoon Mary and Mark–who looks a lot like Billy Idol–will inspect the situation of the moths in the house.
“I have another iron in the fire,” Alice adds. “I’d like to contact Amy and Lena, and Gwen, of course.”
“You want Prester John’s Aunt to reunite?”
“Well, just for a special event. The college is putting on a benefit in about two months and I’d like to see if we can participate. You sing, don’t you?”
“Sure I do.”
“And I think The Cigar Band might fit in, despite Britton’s impudence and Jeanette’s horniness.”
I remember this all too well. I had thought Olivia Short was a tramp–Jeanette Strong is the only woman I ever knew to undress in public! :eek:
Alice continues," What about those five married women? Didn’t you tell me Louise and her friends are musicians too?"
“Yes,” I answer. “Louise is a rare left-handed banjoist. She also plays the clarinet and the ocarina. Loora is a drummer. Eloise plays the bassoon and the trombone. Mary plays the trumpet and Jane–well, Jane plays several instruments–the harp, the piano, the string bass, the violin, the acoustic guitar and the steel guitar.”
“Have you ever heard her play?”
“I sure have!” I go over to a potfolio of fliers the college sent me. “This one was from Stanford. I went down there two years ago to hear her and her husband Joe perform. Have a look at this.”
The color flier shows a tall, brawny man holding a microphone, obviously singing. The buxom woman, leaning forward to play the steel guitar, wears an outfit that looks like something too big and flashy for Tammy Wynette–red dress, with plunging neckline and really short skirt, and fringe around the hem; hot pink gloves with fringe; white boots; and a white Stetson hat.
“Looks like Jane is something of an exhibitionist!” comments Alice.
“Yeah, I know. But you’ve heard her contralto voice–oh, does she sing beautifully. And the critic they quoted sure was impressed with her virtruosity on the steel guitar.”
“Does she just play country western?”
“No, she plays pop, soul, rock, classical, all kinds of stuff. I know–if we can get them to form a combo for the performance we can call them The Housewives!”
Alice frowns. “No–too chauvinistic. We’ll leave it up to them.”
With this out of the way, Alice and I sit there and engage in small talk, with her seated on my lap. This continues for an hour or so, with Alice watching out for moths and her smart-aleck brother Daniel.
After that we go into the kitchen to set things up for dinner, to give Eda a rest. The Doctor sees us working in the kitchen, and tacitly approves. I wonder whether he figures Alice and I intend to get married, but I say nothing about this to Alice, who, of course, seems to have notions of her own along these lines.
At dinner, the Doctor seems to be spinning another yarn…
“…carry a rare disease and are also imbued with a deadly electrical force.”
I think, well, so far so good. The moth was in a thick glass jar when we took it to Mary’s house. She in turn kept it in a large, sealed terrarium with a screened adjoining compartment for admitting air. She routinely sterilizes the containers before putting live specimens in.
We get there. We knock and Mary, somewhat harried, hurries to the door.
She sighs. “What is it now?”
Uncle Matthew speaks. “Mrs. Blonda, we need to see that moth Alice and her friend brought over! It’s urgent!”
Contritely, Mary leads us into the specimen room. She opens the door. Fortunately, the moth is still doing nothing but flying in an infinity figure. I rush to the heavy glass container and lift it, and take it outside lest it cause the Blondas and their home to vanish! :eek:
I get it outside. I sudddenly slip on a small pine cone and lose my balance. The terrarium crashes to the ground. We see and hear a violent explosion, with the force in the direction of the street. The force is so strong it blows the leaves off the facing side of the neighbors’ carob tree!
Alice and I look at each other. She feels a strong sense of urgency. She says, “Uncle, Mrs. Blonda, we have something urgent to do–now!”
She steps out of sight and calls Gwen on her cell phone.
“Gwen–urgent! Get over to my house right away! Fly!” Gwen agrees and hangs up.
I step back in front of the house. I tell Mary and the doctor, “What you are about to experience you must not divulge to anyone!”
Alice and I strip to the waist. She picks Mary up and I pick Uncle Matthew up and we take wing, and return to the Terwilligers’ digs immediately, at high speed.
Mary and the Doctor are too stunned to believe any of this. So is Gwen, who sets there at the same time. I hand Mary my cell phone and say, “Call pest control and get them out here!” she doesn’t react, but Hermione is present and she makes the call. We all go inside–after Alice and I put our tops back on–and hunt franticaly for moths, with nets.
We’re relieved. We’ve found two dozen, and if more were around we could see or hear them, or pick up a signal they mysteriously emit that cell phones pick up. And the pest control people search the property thoroughly, and although the moths we have trapped–all alive–are emitting sounds we can hear, no such sounds are audible elsewhere. At worst this means any more moths would be below ground, and when we detect them we can remove them. Daniel produces a large terrarium and we put all 24 moths in. Mary suggests we release them in a nearby wetlands where they will be confronted with natural enemies absent from the Terwilligers’ property.
Daniel suggests, “We could sick them on Lemoyne.”
“Evil for evil?” Dr. Terwilliger asks.
“I guess not.”
We’ve had to change our plans and I must ask the Teeming Millions to make a mental adjustment when readinig my earlier post today. But we’ve scotched the moth invasion.
Mary and I are so grateful to each other we embrace. The Doctor says teasingly, “Now, now…what would Lissie say?”
Lissie answers, “I would say he’s entitled.” She also kisses her uncle on the cheek, much as she did in child hood. Mary and I recognize this as an innocuous family kiss.
(Note to Dougie Monty: it looks as though we’ve posted at nearly the same time. This following entry will loop the story back to my previous posting and will continue from the end of it.)
when I see yet another one of those big odd-colored moths flutter through the dining room. They are certainly turning up more frequent…
However, I see another. Fortunately, Alice quickly nets it and puts in the terrarium with the 24 others. Relieved that is FINALLY over, I tell Alice…
“Well, like NDP and Yogi Berra say, It ai 't over until it’s over!”
I wrap my arms around Alice and give her the most passionate kiss ever. Her reaction is so powerful I fear she may swoon.
We both sit down, with Uncle Matthew still present. The foreman of the pest control crew approaches and presents a report.
“I’ve seen this moth before. Hasn’t been classified yet. Nasty customer. Well, it may have larva still around, but they’re harmless. The adult moth makes that tiny buzzing sound continuously.”
“What can we use on them–I mean, to kill them if need be?”
Alice asks.
The foreman smiles. “Plain old bug spray. Hell, you can use soap and water to kill them!” He hands Alice the report and leaves.
“We’ll want to give a copy of this to Mary Blonda–and go out to that section of town where the house vanished. For God’s sake, we don’t want that company that owned it to have trouble because of the moths!”
We decide to ask Mary and her brother–who will becoming out tomorrow afternoon anyway–how best to dispose of the remaining moths. 24 hours in a terrarium enclosed in a granite crypt–one of several Alice has in the catacombs–won’t cause any problems. Mary’s moth had been there a while. Not these 25.
With the moths finally under control, we go back in the house and finish with preparations for dinner.
After dinner Alice and I continue with our plans for the musical performance:
“Lorna McManus sings,” Alice mentions. “Do you want me to ask if she’s interested?”
“Sure, why not?” I reply. However, my mind is not entirely focused on making plans. Dr. Terwilliger’s comment about notifying the company that owned the house that disappeared about the moths has me wondering about something.
“Alice, what the was the name of the company that owned the property where that house vanished?” I ask.
“It was some British company,” she answers while searching through some papers looking for the one with the article on it. “Here it is. It’s ‘H. Espee Limited’. Of course, that was a few years ago. They may not own the lot now. I think we should contact a title company and the county tax assessor’s office to see if there’s been any change in ownership.”
“That’s a good idea,” I say in agreement. "Oh, and—
“Pardon me for overhearing,” a voice that belongs to Dr. Terwilliger suddenly blurts out. “But did you just mention ‘H. Espee Limited’?”
“Yes,” answers Alice. “That’s the company that owned the house that vanished.”
The Doctor pauses for a moment.
“Of course,” he quietly says. " The moths, the house, AND Henry Sikes-Potter would all be connected."
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“In addition to being a theoretical physicist, Henry Sikes-Potter was quite the entrepreneur,” the doctor explains. “In 1979, he left Berkeley for private enterprise and ended up setting up corporations all over the world. H. Espee Limited is one of those corporations.”
“Why did he do that?”
“To fund research into his unorthodox theories. When he was at Berkeley, Sikes-Potter complained about the university’s lack of funding and the fact they put him on short leash to test his theories. So, he went out on his own using both his surprisingly uncanny business acumen and reputation as a physicist to raise money. Raised quite a bit, I might add.”
“So how do you think Sikes-Potter’s company is connected to the house’s vanishing and the moths?” Alice asks.
"Well, I know there’s a connection,"the Doctor says. "But I still have to connect the dots. However, one thing I do know is…
“…he had some notions about 'natural pest control,” in a sense. He had been involved with what you Americans call ‘eco-freaks’ who agreed some pests should be controlled but didin’t like the idea of using poisons like DDT. He endeavoured to find strains of insects, for example, which would eat smaller pests. Knowing the danger posed to many crops by aphids, he tried to produce moth species to suppress the pests. This was difficult to do inasmuch as many moth species are themselves pests, and he did not want to replace one pest with another."
“So the colorful moth may be a mutant–a failure, like ‘killer bees,’” says Alice.
“Exactly. In fact the moth species was a considerable embarrassment to Sikes-Potter and the executives at Espee Limited. In fact his company put out a newsletter, in which he and the board were quite frank about the failed effort. It would appear that a fragment of the species lingered in this area until you found it.”
“So they print a newsletter, eh?” I ask.
“Indeed,” the Doctor says. The Courier Quarterly…"
Alice perks up. “Dad has friends send him house organs from England periodically. Let’s look and see if he has that.”
I agree, “Hey, granted it’s a long shot, but something’s better than nothing!”
We go look in the bookshelves in the den. We find six issues of Courier and look for the article about the moths. All we find is one short paragraph, in an issue years old:
“The hybrid moth has not succeeded as a form of natural pest control, here or in America. Examination by entomologists revealed an unfortunate susceptibility to the carrying of rare diseases and a curiously strong electrical charge. Tragically, a site supporting a family of the moth, pending biological classification, mysteriously imploded in Cornwall last fall. Two other sites, in York and Rhondda, suffered fire damage within two days of acceptance of the moths. Observers reported strange flying activity, and luminescence, in the moths and urged that the creatures be destroyed. In fact all of them have been destroyed, with the exception of a small packet of larva in an Espee facility in South San Francisco, California, kept in a basalt container.”
According to a line on the masthead, the newsletter went to press October 16, 1989.
“That was the day before the Loma Prieta earthquake,” I comment. “South San Francisco is close enough to the San Andreas Fault to have felt the temblor with considerable force. Perhaps the basalt box the larva was in was disturbed…”
“And the moths stayed underground in the area for years,” comments Alice."
“Quite plausible, Lissie,” answers Uncle Matthew. “Mrs. Blonda noted that the moths tend to stay below ground.”
“Mary told us her brother will give us some more exact information on the strain,” I say. “This is certainly Mark’s bailiwick.”
“Well, now that that’s established,” Alice asks, “Where to now?”
“You may wish to contact the assessor’s office to establish the identity of the property’s current owner,” Dr. Terwilliger suggests. “And perhaps determine the status of Espee Limited in this country; if they are indeed defunct–not that I know they are–there may be a successor in interest.”
With our work accomplished for the day we listen to Uncle Matthew, who is quite the raconteur. I had never contemplated such erudition and knowledge as traits of an Anglican minister. Perhaps Alice inherited such positive traits from him.
It gets late. Eda comes in and makes up the bed in the den for Uncle Matthew; Alice and I bid him good evening, and quietly slip off to her room. We get in the bed, I in T-shirt and pajama pants and Alice in filmy nightie–and, spent from our day’s efforts, we nod off quickly.
The following day, Alice and I do some yard work; it’s a Saturday and we won’t be able to get to the government agencies we want to contact. She tends to the rose planter out front; I handle a pole trimmer on overgrown rubber-tree branches in the back. When we stop for lunch the mail comes. By now I’ve cleaned up somewhat–man, that rubber sap is sticky–:rolleyes: and I happen to be in the living room when the mail falls through the slot.
I sort the mail for Alice, Paul, Eda, Daniel, and Arthur. In the process I note three letters for Alice with handwritten addresses–perhaps she has contacted some of those people we’d like to perform–and, oddly, a letter from the California Judicial Quality Board. I don’t scrutinize these items; I just want to sort them. I take Alice’s mail to her; she’s alone at the kitchen table.
She opens and reads the three letters. “Oh, that is nice,” she says. “Jane Bradley, and Jeanette Strong, and Amy Dolan really sound interested. I’ll have to have them come out here to plan their performance.”
Then she opens the letter from the state agency, and reads it. Her expression is one of mixed astonishment and delight. She shows me the letter, and I feel the same way after I read it. It says in part:
"Dear Ms. Terwilliger:
"Your filing with the Appellate Court was forwarded to our Board in Sacramento and we have considered this a serious enough matter to take action ourselves. The procedure accepted by Judge Bolivar Shagnasty and Prosecutor Jerome Goldberg, in conducting a plea-bargaining at a trial instead of an arraignment, is a serious violation of the Penal Code and the California Rules of Court.
"We have ordered the suspension of Shagnasty and Goldberg pending a formal hearing at the Appellate Court in San Francisco. If you wish to present evidence please contact us at the address at the top of this letter. The judge and prosecutor may also face criminal charges.
“Furthermore, inasmuch as the procedures were improper, the State may reopen the criminal proceedings of People v. Lemoyne in the Superior Court in Stockton, on the grounds of improper venue in the original proceedings.”
“If you need further information write or telephone us.”
Alice comments, “Isn’t that interesting! Obviously Lemoyne’s influence doesn’t reach to the Judicial Quality Board…”
"I smile and, sitting close to her, put one arm around her waist. I say “Well, it looks like Terwilliger 1, Lemoyne 0 here…” as I say this I carefully remove my glasses–and hers–and set them on the table. We just remain like this for a few minutes, knowing we have yard work to finish.
This is interrupted by another appearance by Daniel, as impudent as ever. “Oh, Lissie…”
can you and ____ stop making goo-goo eyes at each other and help me in the parlor?"
“With what?” Alice asks quickly putting her glasses back on.
“Mum noticed the blades on the overhead fan in the parlor looked loose,” Daniel says. “So I promised her that I would tighten the screws before they fell on someone. I need you and ____ to hold the ladder and hand me the tools I need.”
That doesn’t sound like too hard a job. Alice and I follow Daniel into the parlor. There, I notice the ceiling is high–about 12 to 14 feet–and a large old rickety ladder is set directly underneath the fan.
“Alice, I want you to hold on to the ladder,” Daniel says. “And ____ hold on to my toolbox and hand me what I need and…oh, will you look at that.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“I just noticed four of the wooden steps on the ladder are splitting,” Daniel says with a strangely flat tone. “I never realized how old and unsafe this ladder is but I guess it’s a risk I’ll have to take or else someone’s going to have a fan crash down on him.”
I look closely at one of split steps that’s eye-level to me. However, the split in the wood doesn’t look it’s been caused by wear and tear. It looks suspiciously like someone went at it with a hammer and/or saw so it would break.
“Don’t get on that ladder Daniel,” Alice calmly pleads.
“But I promised Mum that I would do something about the fan,” Daniel explains.
“Well, we’ll have to do something else,” Alice says.
“Like what?” Daniel asks while turning his head to Alice. The tone of his voice is growing more affected. “Have somebody fly up there and fix it?”
With that last query, Daniel’s voice now has more than a hint of sarcasm in it. It seems as though he’s starting to let on that he knows a secret about Alice and myself that hardly anyone else does.
“Well, do either of you have any ideas on what to do next?” Daniel asks pointedly.
Alice and I pause for a moment and briefly look at each other. My mind, however, has gone blank.
Finally, Alice says…
“What did I tell you?” snaps Alice. “How would you like me to comment on the wedding band you got for Hermione?”
This shuts Daniel up and he slinks away.
Sunday afternoon Mary comes with her brother Mark Smith, a learned entomologist. He discusses the strange mutant moth with us…
“Oh, for God’s sake, I’ll handle it myself!”
[note: I am wording my posting as follows because I very nearly experienced this same thing last week with a real ladder, on a yard job.–dougie_monty]
Alice goes into the kitchen and returns with a folding stepstool. Then she plunks this on the floor beneath the fan; sets a huge, thick dictionary on the upper step, and tells me to get up there and fix the fan.
I comply meekly.
With the fan repaired, we put the other stuff away and, our hostility defused, examine the wooden rungs on the ladder. I upend it and ask Daniel to point a lantern at the underside of the uppermost–now lowermost–weakened rung. He does and I take a powerful magnifying glass.
“It looks as though someone battered the rungs with a Thor hammer,” I comment.
“A what?” Alice asks.
I explain. “The Norse god Thor used a hammer much like a sledgehammer except it had a very short handle. I used to work with a German carpenter who used one.” I look closely at the cracks between rungs and frame and note that they seem to be separating.
“Where has this ladder been the last week?” I ask.
“Out by the corner of the house–near the electric meter,” Daniel answers.
I sigh. The electric meter is near the corner of the front of the house, on the side, opposite the driveway. “Well, anyone could have done this–if it was set out all night. I ask Alice, “Has anyone been in the shed in the last few days?”
“Only Mum,” she answers. “She went to get two jars of marmelade. She puts up jellies and such in the shed every September. And we always keep the shed locked, as you know.”
We decide to check the exterior of the structures–the house, the garage, the utility shed, the tower, the coop where the cages are–for blows by a hard tool. The only marks we find are on an oak tree in the front yard and, oddly, the concrete cover for the water meter out near the sidewalk. I ask Alice to take pictures. “You may want your Dad and Arthur to check this too,” I comment. And Mary Blonda and her brother will be here tomorrow; it’s just too bad Uncle Matthew’s visit came at the same time.”
Uncle Matthew appears. “Do not worry…I believe we may solve this without further acrimony.” He asks Daniel, “Tell me about the neighbors next door…do they have children?”
Daniel pauses and thinks, “well…”
[note: The visit of Mary Blonda and her brother Mark Smith, an entomologist, has yet to occur at this point.–dougie_monty]
(For purposes of the last posting, we may assume that Alice’s stepstool is much like a small ladder; the dictionary is indeed quite thick; and the first-person character, like me, is 6’2".–dougie_monty.) :o
“Those moths were never seen anywhere until about seven or eight years ago,” Mark begins. “And when they were first spotted, it was in geographically unconnected spots over the world. However, the sightings were all within close vicinity of property owned by a British corporation known as H. Espee Limited.”
“Yes, Dr. Terwilliger told us that the moth was a mutant developed by H. Espee in a botched attempt to create a species that would control pests,” I mentioned.
“So I guess you also know that the moth is prone to carrying rare diseases and has a strong electrical charge?” Mark adds.
“Yes,” Alice says. “We found out about that from some copies of the company newsletter.”
“Well, have you also discovered that the moth is highly intelligent?” Mark asks.
“No,” I say with growing interest.
“Of course, I should qualify what I mean by ‘highly intelligent’,” Mark explains. “We’re not talking smart like a chimp, dolphin, or even a crow. In fact, any vertebrate is still light years more intelligent than that moth. But, among insects, this species ranks far ahead of most others–including ants and bees.”
“Shows what a little genetic modification will do,” I say flippantly.
“Those bloody bastards!”
Suddenly our attention is drawn to a voice yelling from the front yard. It’s Daniel and he’s upset about something. We all rush outside to find out exactly what it is.
“Whoever did this,” he says an intense expression. “Whoever did this…”
In the middle of the walkway from the front porch to the driveway, a livid Daniel stands next to a small evergreen bush and some other plants that I can’t identify because it’s winter and they’ve lost their leaves. Apparently, he’s agitated by the new residents of the front yard–a gang of six garden gnomes. “Gang” being the right term to use here because rather than the cutesy fairy tale figurines that usually adorn patches of greenery, these are definitely rougher characters. Like nicer friendlier gnomes, these biker gnomes have white beards and pointed hats. However, there the similarities end since the beards have streaks of grease and dirt while the hats made of black leather. All wear black leather jackets with ripped jeans and knives peaking out their pockets. Scars are common as are tatoos of flaming skulls, naked gnome women, slogans like “Born to Lose”, and logos for the Oakland Raiders. Three of the gnomes either sit or lean on their Harleys with cigarettes in their mouths. Of those without bikes, one is halfway through a 40 ounce bottle of Budweiser, another has just taken a swig out of his bottle of Old Crow, and yet another has his hands on his front zipper as though he’s about to relieve himself on one of the evergreen bushes.
“Sick wankers!” Daniel hisses as he walks about the scene. “Sick, sick, sick wankers!”
Alice and I look at the rough crowd that’s parked along the walkway and Daniel’s fury. Both of us try to exhibit concern and outrage at this desecration and are about to offer him some comforting words but, before we do, Daniel explodes.
“Violated!” he screams. “I’ve been violated!”
We can’t take any more of this. We rush inside the house and into Alice’s library. There, we burst out laughing uncontrollably. We can’t stop. Just as I’m about to finally calm down, I automatically think of Daniel’s meticulous care of his collection of gnomes, the obscenely scuzzy figurines out front with the Oakland Raider tatoos, and Daniel’s over-the-top reaction and I explode again. Alice seems to know what I’m thinking about and she follows suit.
Finally, after a long while, we compose ourselves and go back outside. There, we see…
…another brother of Mary’s, Theodore, the second-eldest. He is dressed much like Fonzie, and in fact with his attire he looks more like Billy Idol than does his older brother. He too is laughing, as is Mary; she is more modestly dressed at someone else’s home, but even so she is laughing so hard I wonder if the buttons on her better-fitting blouse will survive. :rolleyes: Parked on the street is Theodore’s small pickup truck. He is strong enough to have lifted the plaster gnomes out into the Terwilligers’ yard all by himself.
Paul, Eda, Hermione, Winifred, Uncle Matthew, and Arthur come out; Alice and I step out into the yard with Daniel and we can’t help busting up either.
Alice sputters, “Good heavens, Daniel–c-can’t you teach y-your charges a better k-k-k-kind of conduct?” She is laughing so hard I suppose she may fall to the ground!
Daniel’s own countenance changes; he sputters and laughs too; he knows the joke’s on him. Theodore and Mary, I figure, must have gone to a Home Depot or Lowe’s and bought these bizarre gnomes; or to one of a number of curio shops near the college.
Mark, however, gets the discussion back on track, though he certainly admires the mischievous sense of humor shown by his brother and sister.
“I’d say the moth has been subdued. At this time of year it’s likely the larva, if any remain, will stay dormant until well into spring. By then its natural enemies will have emerged and its population will be diminished.”
“What natural enemies does it have?” I ask.
“Oh…bats, pigeons, crows, gulls; most common urban birds will attack it; in marshes it’s a favorite of frogs and, its intelligence notwithstanding, it’s one of few insect species mosquitoes will attack. In any case it is a serious mistake to remove any species from a habitat where its natural enemies can keep it in check.”
“Then the 25 moths we have in a container could be safely released into Willett’s Marsh [about ten miles from the Terwilligers’ house] in late April,” Alice comments.
“Absolutely,” says Mark. "Incidentally, I’ve gathered enough data on the moth to propose a species name–Blatta terwilligeri. That’s the Latin word for “moth.”
Alice and her kin aren’t particularly enthusiastic about this.
I’ve been watching something while all this was going on and I speak privately to Alice, in the den, about it.
“You’re concerned about something, aren’t you ----?”
I answer, “Yes, I am. Daniel. Not the gnomes or his attitude towards you and me. I think he has noticed Mary Blonda. He stayed close to her and, except when we were laughing at the gnomes, he seemed to be ‘checking her out’–getting a close look at her, including her bust and hips. And she wasn’t dressed as immodestly as she was when we went to her house.”
Alice sighs. “And she is married and so is he. Bob Blonda is a nice guy–really open and kind, and he obviously adores that woman–and so do their kids. And I can’t imagine what this might to do Hermione.” 
“I’d like to confront them–”
“NO! That would do more harm than good! They could bridle at you and then we’ll have four very unhappy people!”
“Well, what would you suggest?” I know Alice would not want to see her brother or her sister-in-law hurt in any case; and I’ve always admired the Blondas.
By this time Alice has sat on my lap again and we are nearly face-to-face, with arms around each other.
We stay like this until Mark, Mary, and Theodore, who have been outside (Paul appreciated the joke, but asked him not to leave the gnomes there), leave their moth data with us and pack everything up. We stop at tea time, discussing what’s with Mary’s family and ours (I feel so close to the Terwilligers now), and bid Mary and her brothers goodbye. As they leave Alice and I stand with our dominant hands–my right and her left–tightly clasped, as if we sense strong mutual concern for Mary, and Daniel and his wife.
Alice prepares to tell me what she wants to do about Daniel and Mary. While she deals with this I go into the den and pore over some law books; I assume we’ll have some contact soon enough from the court in Stockton over the Lemoyne matter.
After that, I head back to my dormitory to briefly check my mail. Because it’s been awhile, I’m afraid my mailbox will be overflowing. However, this fear proves unfounded as there are only two envelopes in my box when I open them up.
I take the envelopes out of my box and glance at them. I notice that they are identical in terms of size, color, and handwriting on front and are postmarked within two days of one another.
I decide to first open up the envelope that’s been in my box the longest. Inside is a typewritten slip of paper that simply reads: “You’re a fraud.”
Puzzled, I look at the front of the envelope to see who sent it to me. There’s no return address. I look at the front of the second envelope and see there’s no return address there either. Moreover, upon closer examination, I see that after my name–in smaller typed letters and parenthesis–is the word “fraud”.
Foolhardily, I rip open the second envelope and…
…get much the same message, on pink paper that seems almost rubbery. After the sort of thing Alice has received, however, I set the envelopes down and go get a pair of rubber gloves from the infirmary, which is adjacent to the dorm building.
Then I ask Phoebe, on duty in the library, to loan me her microscope, which she keeps in a box in her large mailbox–in a “pigeonhole” complex against the wall. With the gloves on I put the second “letter” under the microscope and read some tiny lettering in the lower left-hand corner of the page, which, despite its rubbery nature, resembles a child’s letter page (that is, stationery a child would write letters on). I find one line of figures:
2294101EGB
Hmmmm. Near as I can figure this includes the main ZIP Code for San Francisco, and EGB–perhaps the initials for “Pat” and “Jerry” Brown, father and son who were governors of California. I decide not to waste any time, and take these items to the local post office–in a large Ziploc bag–and ask them to contact the local postal inspector’s office. They have me fill out a form and I leave the pieces of mail with them.
Back at the dorm, I pick up a copy of the Sacramento Bee, to look at local news. On the page for State news I find a couple of interesting headlines and opening paragraphs:
LITTLE PERSON FOUND NEAR DEATH
Former circus midget Pula Kinlai, 44, was found by rescue personnel in an automobile in a deserted parking lot in Lodi Friday afternoon.
Mr. Kinlai, born in Poland, was found when a large truck bumped the auto, which tipped over. Paramedics found Kinlai inside the car and took him to Lodi General Hospital. Kinlai has not yet regained consciousness.
Kinlai was overseer for the defunct construction firm Victor Lemoyne & Company, closed by order of the California Attorney General. Contact with the Secretary of State revealed the company’s assets were turned over to the state receiver pending liquidation.
Well, that’s interesting. (Kinlai was the midget we chased through the catacombs.) Looks like Lemoyne doesn’t give a damn even about his own operatives.
Then I see another story, which arouses my interest even more:
INVESTIGATION IDENTIFIES BUILDER
In the investigation into the sudden collapse of the Norton Medical Building in Livermore, local officials announced that the building had been constructed by the defunct Lemoyne and Company of Lodi.
On December 30, at 4:20 a.m., the building collapsed into a sinkhole, falling approximately 65 feet. The only person inside the building was internist Dr. Luther “Lute” Tigner, 66, a former Navy medical official late of Charlotte, NC. Tigner suffered a fatal heart attack and died shortly after being removed from the building, according to the Livermore Fire Department and physicians at Kaiser Permanente.
The investigation concluded that improper building procedures had been followed in the construction, including failure to assess properly the nature of the stratum directly beneath the building site. The State Attorney General is considering filing charges against the executives of the defunct company, Victor A. Lemoyne and company vice-president Pula Kinlai.
I think, well! Therer’s such a thing as justice after all! Oh, man… if Tigner had lived he would have burned Lemoyne’s backside over this…! According to one of the cards I found in Tigner’s wallet Tigner had moved his medical practice to that building. I bet Lemoyne chiseled him out of a safe building to pocket a few bucks…now maybe the State will do what Judge Shagnasty couldn’t…
I muse on this and decide to call Alice, who by this time will probably have finished paperwork on her own semester registration. I am particularly concerned about the situation between Daniel and Mary Blonda. Daniel is 36 years old–slightly younger than Mary–but I fear he is behaving like a lovesick ninth-grader on his first day in a class with the school’s sexiest teacher, and he may screw up his marriage with Hermione…
Relaxing in a lounge chair in my dorm room, I pick up the phone and call the Terwilligers’. Eda answers the phone and I ask for Alice. She comes on the line; I blush as she happily acknowledges me. We speak…