Surreal continuing story: walking through doors and passageways

[dougie_monty]

…and then Jack Sharp appears.
“SCRAM!” he yells to the audience, a large family living in the mansion next door. Dr. Clouse and Eloise tend to Fred. The “audience” goes home.

“I’m warning you, Duke—you freak out like that one more time and you’re going to the pound!” Mrs. Sharp says angrily.
We call the paramedics. Laura Clouse administers a sedative to Fred.

“This is a serious breach of conduct,” says Alice. “Duke runs the risk of being suspended or expelled from the League.”
“Someone may have poisoned him,” says Dr. Clouse. “Before you set up your drumhead court, you should acknowledge that possibility.”

Duke, in fact, now lies quietly on the ground, hardly moving at all since Eloise rebuked him.
Fred, his breath still ragged, gives us a telepathic message.

Call the DXM vet Phyllis Taft, he thinks to us.
Eloise takes her cell phone out from between her boobs. She keys in a number. She says “Over the river and under the dam” and then pauses.

“Phyllis, this is Eloise. Duke got aggressive and attacked Fred Moreland. Can you come out here right away? … Thanks.”
Meanwhile, the paramedics and the ambulance arrive. They assist Dr. Clouse in preparing Fred’s treatment, bandaging, and the litter.

Just before she leaves with the ambulance, Dr. Clouse says, “Fred is lucky—Duke didn’t do serious damage. He’ll probably be fully recovered within the week.” She gets in the ambulance, and the ambulance and the paramedic truck speed away. They’ll be going to the Kaiser Permanente Emergency facility.
Now a sleek white car pulls up and parks. Out come James Parker, Joan Breastly, and a small, gray-haired, older woman I don’t recognize. She carries a medical bag lettered “Phyllis Taft, D. V. M.” She also wears a DXM ring.

We all gather around Duke. He has obediently lain still since Eloise’s rebuke.
“Are all the persons present DXM people?” Dr. Taft asks.

“Yes, we are,” we all say, showing our rings. (Alice and I had had our rings made at Sol Feldman’s place.)
“Duke, I want you to explain why you suddenly attacked Mr. Moreland,” the vet says sternly.

“I don’t know, Ma’am,” the dog answers, in his “Robbie Barone” voice. “I was arguing with Buster, and Mr. Moreland was yelling at dancing monkeys next to Loochy’s corral.”
“Dancing monkeys?” asks the puzzled vet.

“We did in fact have monkeys out by the corral,” says Eloise, “but I don’t remember Fred coaching them to do anything.”
“And why did Fred—” says Jack…

“Well, look at this!” says Dr. Taft. She points out a small, strange red spot on the back of Duke’s neck. She takes a Minolta from her bag—with the DXM logo on it yet. Then, with a forceps and a powerful magnifying glass, she carefully draws a small pointed object out of the “withers” on Duke. It looks like a pencil point.
Almost immediately Duke sighs and assumes a more relaxed position, looking like the Duke I’ve known for years.

Joan gets an idea. She takes out her cell phone and keys in a number.
“Laura?” she says. “Laura Clouse? This is Joan Breastly. Check Fred’s neck for a barbed projectile like a pencil-point.”

There’s a slight pause.
“Yes, I found one,” says Dr. Clouse; we can hear her voice. I used forceps to remove it. Immediately Fred felt much better. He even smiled.”

“I know only one person who carries and shoots charges like that—” says Parker.
Suddenly Loochy starts braying loudly and frantically. Phyllis stays with Duke while the rest of us run out to Loochy’s corral.

Just before we round the corner we hear an angry young voice, cursing.
We approach and see Loochy chasing a fellow about nineteen years old, looking much like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo. He wears plain black slacks and an orange T-shirt, and has a small chin beard. Loochy overtakes him and deftly pushes him to the ground. Alice takes her Minolta out and takes a picture.

Jack restrains the kid. Jack’s Pinkerton guards approach. Parker and Breastly approach.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Jack growls.
“I ain’t saying nothing,” bleats the kid.

“That’s Mort Donoho—Brett’s brother!” says Alice.
Jack’s Pinkerton guards keep the kid restrained. I phone Bob Long; he’ll be here soon. Phyllis walks toward us with Duke, who is now in a calmer state and totally obedient.

“We should get some info from Loochy on this,” I say. “Ten to one this kid, if he used a blowgun, tried to shoot Loochy too and the angry burro went after him.”
So all of us approach the outsize computer setup Jack built for the burro. Jack switches the computer on. Loochy, who of course can’t talk, trots over to the keyboard.

Parker asks, “Loochy, did Mort Donoho use a blowgun on Fred and Duke?”
Loochy taps the keyboard with a hoof. Yes, he did, Mr. Parker appears on the monitor screen.

Parker gets on his cell phone. “Blowgun alert—Sharps’ mansion,” he says.
Now we all observe as Parker says to Loochy, “Tell us what you saw—beginning when Buster and Duke started talking. And don’t leave out anything Fred did, or that the monkeys did.”
Loochy keys in a description of what he saw:

[NDP]

While Buster and Duke were arguing, I heard some rustling and the sound of someone blowing twice over in the bushes. I glanced over and saw a man who looked like Donoho removing a blowgun from his lips and disappearing into the brush. Then Fred started ranting about monkeys, a simian kickline appeared, and Duke attacked Fred.

“What happened to the monkeys?” Parker asks.

Loochy carefully types out: I don’t know, Mr. Parker. I can’t see them anywhere.

“Well, they can’t be far,” Parker says. “Alice. _____. Search the perimeters of the mansion for any signs of the monkeys.”

“Good luck,” laughs Mort Donoho who’s overheard Parker’s command.

“What do you mean by that?” an angry Parker asks.

“Hey, I’m not talking until I see my lawyer,” an amused Mort chuckles. “You’ll just have to find out on your own.”

Alice and I decide not to waste anymore time with Mort and instead search the property. We look everywhere: the tennis court, the pool, the cabanas, the garage, the garden shed, the front lawn, the back lawn, the garden, and in every tree, hedge, bush, and shrub. Each time, the results are the same: nothing. There are no traces of the monkeys anywhere. We ask the neighbors and they tell us they didn’t see anything after the bizarre show they put on. Finally, we get in Alice’s VW and look around the rest of the neighborhood. Again, there’s a complete absence of anything remotely simian.

Exhausted, Alice and I return to the mansion where Parker greets us on front porch.

“Find anything?” he asks.

“Nada,” I answer. “Did you see any monkeys where you were?”

“No,” Parker replies with exasperation as we walk over to the corral. There, Mort is still detained by Jack and his Pinkerton guards.

“I don’t know where the monkeys could’ve gone,” Alice states. “It’s like they vanished into thin air.”

Mort snorts and snickers when he hears Alice say this.

“Has Mort said anything while we were gone?” I ask Parker.

“Until now, he’s been silent,” he answers. “He’s inexplicably giggled a couple times but hasn’t said a word.”

Bob Long has arrived. He tells us…

[dougie_monty]

“We just stopped a truck driver out on Siddely Street—he had a bunch of monkeys in cages in the back. People could hear them screeching a block away!”
“What’s his name?” I ask.

“Wallace Jones,” says Bob.
Alice and I pause. We don’t know the name. “I’ve never heard of him,” says Alice.

“You know, I think I have heard of him,” says Parker. “The League’s animal office has used his company’s services, but I can’t see him as a criminal accomplice.”
“Oh, we don’t think he’s an accomplice,” says Bob. “He phoned his company when we stopped him, and they told us he had an order to pick up monkeys at this address. In fact Jones showed us his manifest.” Bob shows us a paper, recording pick-up and shipment of several monkeys.

Now Mort Donoho isn’t laughing.
Bob now formally Mirandizes Donoho and puts him in the back of his unit. Bob returns to talk to Alice, Parker, and me; now Jack, Eloise, and Joan Breastly join us.

“It’s likely that Donoho forged the manifest and tricked Jones into hauling the monkeys away,” Bob continues. “Jones works for a trucking company called Blitzen-Camion—a delivery firm that ships lots of things, including live animals.”
“Stan Brown told me about that kind of thing,” I say. “He has unknowingly delivered contraband a few times; he’s never implicated. He has a good lawyer.”

“Well, that’s that,” says Alice. “I think we should go see how Fred is doing.”
We get into the Sharps’ big van—Jack, Eloise, Alice, Lupe, Parker, Joan Breastly, Pete and Loora Oranjeboom, and George Galloway and me. We go to the Kaiser Permanente emergency ward, where Dr. Ferruccio Luglio takes us to Fred’s room. The doctor smiles cordially.

“Fred just woke up a little while ago,” he says. “Duke did no serious damage, as Laura told you. We had to put four stitches into his neck. He won’t be able to talk for a few days, but other than that he’s doing just fine.”
We go inside; Fred is awake reading a book. The nurse who has been attending to him leaves.

He greets us.
“How are you doing?” Eloise asks.

Fred takes a pad and pencil.
Just fine, Missus Sharp. What happened to Duke? he writes.

“Duke is in the doghouse—in more ways than one,” Eloise replies. “I told him he’d wind up in the pound if he did something like that again. And, of course, he could be expelled from the League.”
Fred gives a knowing look—I think he knows about the blowgun. In fact we’d be surprised if he didn’t, even if Dr. Clouse told him nothing.

Now another nurse comes in—a buxom blonde Irish woman whose nametag reads “Seanna O’Shaughnessy, R. N.” She sees our DXM rings and shows us hers. She’s built like Britney Spears and she does nurse work like a pro.
After Seanna gets Fred’s vital signs, she gives us a telepathic message: *I assume Mr. Moreland told you he knew about that thing that was stuck in his neck.

Duke had that too,* Alice replies. Dr. Taft found it.
I’ll probably be here two more days, Fred tells us. * I won’t try to talk for a couple more days after that.*

“You take it easy,” says Eloise. “Armand can buttle for you until you feel well enough to return to work.”
Now Pete and Loora approach Alice and me. They wear identical running suits; Alice wears a tight white blouse and black slacks. I’m still in the “Daphne” character; I wear a white linen dress that buttons in front. I wear glasses similar to Alice’s.

“Do you have your What to Say volumes?” Loora asks.
“We do,” I say. We both carry purses and take out the little booklets Ted Albert gave us.

“Turn to Page 23 and read—not out loud—the first phrase printed in bold type.”
We see it. It’s “Harry Bon Zell.”

“That looks like the name of George Burns’ announcer,” I say.
“That’s right,” says Pete, “except, of course, his name was Harry Von Zell. But the variation is to use when you get reality shifts like the one at the football game. You’ll see or hear some expression of uncertainty, then the reality shift will vanish.”

“I assume we can think it as well as say it.” Pete nods.
We stay with Fred for a while, going over plans for the Morpheus and Lorna’s wedding and, of course, concomitant missions. We sense that Dr. Luglio pulled strings to get a DXM nurse, Seanna, assigned to Fred.

After a while, we leave the hospital and we all return to the rectory of St. Aloysius’ Church. Father Abromowitz has just finished a Mass, which Lorna attended.
In the rectory we join the others who were at the meeting the first time—as well as Mabel Fafoofnik from the pool hall, and Coach Safer from the high school. Parker tells us these people are cleared by the League to be present and will not give Alice or me away though, of course, they are not likely to recognize me as a woman.

So now Lorna continues with her wedding plans:

[NDP]

a traditional ceremony. I sort half pay attention as everyone reviews the plans. Then, my cell phone rings.

“Sorry,” I say as reach into my purse. “I should’ve set it to vibrate.”

I then excuse myself and step outside to answer the phone.

“Hello?” I say.

“Hello, ‘Daphne’,” replies a familiar voice that gives me chills. It’s…

[dougie_monty]

Quentin York.
I look at the display on the little screen on the phone. There’s a local phone number, I think I recognize—part of it, anyway. I quickly take pencil and paper from my purse and write the number down.

“You didn’t expect me to contact you again, did you?” York says.
“What do you mean ‘again’?” I ask.

“Now don’t play innocent with me,” York sneers. “I have your number.”
“What do you want?”

“Oh, I don’t want anything. I just got bailed out. But you are likely to want something soon—like mercy.”
“Make yourself plainer, York.”

“You and your dear Alice are heading for a fall…”
While York talks, I take out the book What to Say. On the Contents page, one line reads, “Phone Threats.” I turn to that page. One line reads, “Delayed Action—delirium tremens.” A general message follows.

“I don’t condone threats, York.”
“Oh, I’m not threatening you—I’m promising you. Litton and I have a nice surprise for you in a few days.”

“I’m not interested in your surprises, York,” I say dryly. “Besides, that’s making Seemie Eemie go against Eemie, as Elly May Clampett said.”
“What?!”

“You heard me, York, Now if you don’t mind I have other fish to fry. Don’t call me at this number again.”
“Oh, I promise that—”

“And it’ll be an easy promise for you to keep, you bastard! Goodbye!” I hang up.
Then the cell phone emits a message.

“To erase this call, press 1. To save this call, press 2.” I press 2.
“Call saved.”

I note the number I wrote down. I call the cell-phone company to report a threatening call. They say they will call the police.
Now I return to the meeting. Alice fills me in on the details, in a side room.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she says. “Traditional ceremony. Mabel and Coach Safer offered to help Lorna and me with details—they’ve planned lots of weddings. Oh—who was on the phone?”
“Quentin York,” I say. “He was out on bail.” Alice scowls.

“Did he threaten you, _____?”
“Yes, in as jeering a manner as Lemoyne or Carol Cott did. But I used this line from What to Say and my cell phone recorded the call.” I show the page to Alice.

“‘Seemie Eemie’… oh, I’ve used that one before, myself. When you say it, ‘jelly monsters’—clear, colored creatures—emerge from the handset the threatening caller is using, and surround the caller and shriek like banshees at him or her!”
“Like the D.T.’s, of course.”

“Exactly,” says Alice. “I happen to know that York is a teetotaler and can’t blame what he saw on drinking.”
“How do you suppose he figured out who I was?” I ask.

“This is a shot in the dark,” she says, “but here goes. We saw quite a few people in the hospital when we went to visit Fred. That our group included a 6’4” woman certainly turned heads, as you might imagine.”
“Go on,” I say.

“Well, that you were with me as Daphne McManus instead of as ______ _______ would suggest to an adversary who knows us, that you were in disguise. If Quentin York were in the hospital he could have seen you.”
“That’s possible,” I say. “When the wedding day comes we may have to ask Pete and Loora to make a change.”

“Very likely,” says Alice.
“So York could very well have been in the hospital,” I say. “He’s sure going to need it when the ‘Eemie’ monsters get through with him!”

Alice now calls Hermione. Meanwhile, I excuse myself, and return to the meeting. Lorna has chosen a very traditional—even stodgy, to my way of thinking—wedding, including three bridesmaids, and a reception in the church immediately following.
Now the meeting is over and we all bid Father Abramowitz goodbye. We return to the van, including Alice, who has finished her call; and Mabel and Geraldine Safer. I’m reasonably sure Ms. Safer is a DXM person, but I don’t know about Mabel. Oh, well, Parker cleared her…

On the way back to the Sharps’ mansion, Alice says, “Hermione said they found York. He’s in the psychiatric ward at the hospital. He called you from the Records office.”
“I’m not surprised,” I say. “He has a tendency to sneak into places like that. And I bet I know why he’s in the psycho ward!”

“Yup!” says Alice. “Hospital security heard him hollering, ‘Purple dragons! Pink elephants! Aaaaaahhh!’ They carried him out of the records room. Oh—incidentally, he wouldn’t dare go near Fred!”
“Of course not—with Dr. Luglio and Seanna in the room or nearby!”

As we continue to the Sharps’ mansion, Alice and I know we need to discuss three things: what Jock decided to wear to the wedding; our planned trip to the DXM office in the Galaxy 100, to talk to the scientists Walt Ryson (chemist) and Trinh Diem (naturalist and physician); and what we should do in terms of changing my appearance for the wedding. Pete and Loora are present, so they can advise us, as perhaps Mabel and Geraldine may do.

We get back to the mansion. We go to the kitchen, and take these three issues up. Buster is present; Lupe serves us tea and crackers as we talk.

[NDP]

“First off,” Pete says, “in all the chaos involving Fred, the monkeys, and Duke, we managed to get some fur and dander samples over to Ryson and Diem. They’ll be using them to derive a concentrated mist that should sideline Stout a such a severe allergic reation that he’ll be unable to carry out his plan.”

“Is my role changed?” I ask.

“Yes,” Loora answers. “Your cover as Daphne McManus is pretty close to being blown by now. You’re going to have to take on a new guise. However, this time you’ll be a man again.”

“Who will I be?” I inquire.

Pete informs me that I’ll be…

[dougie_monty]

“er—just a minute.”
(Before Pete tells me, he has me step with him, along with Loora, Alice, Jeanette, and Parker, into the Sharps’ pantry.)

Pete explains. “This area is lined with heavy concrete walls. All the better so that no ears can hear us that shouldn’t.
“Now, you’re going to be Jerry Britton for the wedding.”

“Jeanette’s drummer?” I ask. “What happens to honest-to-goodness Jerry?”
“He’s going to take your place. Jerry-as-______ will stay here at the Sharps’ place, and go out back to Loochy’s corral. He’s wanted some time off anyway.”

“Well, I can handle the drums and the smart remarks—but I loathe those Cuban cigars Jerry smokes!”
“Oh, ‘Jerry’ won’t smoke cigars during the wedding,” says Jeanette. “Father Abramowitz complied with fire regulations; smoking is not permitted in the church or on church property. We’ll have chocolate cigars from See’s instead.”

“Good,” I say. “I like chocolate cigars.”
Now we call Jerry in and Alice brings some of my clothes. The others step out of the room so now only Pete and Loora remain with Jerry and me.

“You’ll have to undress for this metamorphosis,” Pete says.
So Jerry and I disrobe, side by side. He gets a look at my “Daphne” figure and sprouts an erection.

“You won’t have that long,” Pete says.
“Bippity-boppity-bornt,” Pete and Loora say. I sneeze and blink; then I sneeze and blink again. Now I see Jerry looking like me. Alice comes in with a mirror; I look like Jerry.

“I have hair again!” Says Jerry, feeling his scalp. “I haven’t had hair on top since I was 30!”
“Speak for yourself, Buddy,” I say, as I feel the top of my head—which has no hair on it.

Jerry asks, “Does this mean he gets to share Jeanette in bed, with Johnny Goss?”
“It means no such thing!” say Alice and Jeanette in unison.

“Jerry, you and Johnny can screw me,” says Jeanette, “But ______ stays with Alice.”
In fact I walk over to Alice and embrace her. I’m glad to be male again, though it was good to see how the other half lives…

Jerry dons my clothes, and I his. We give the “Daphne” outfit to Jeanette, who sets it in a drawer. We go back out to the table.
“Oh,” says Alice, “Jock and Lorna are still discussing what outfit he’ll wear; we’ll know soon enough.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” I say. “Alice, remember what you told me when we were in Phillip’s room at Kaiser?”
“Oh, yes,” she says. “Those people have nothing on us.”

Loora says, “One thing more, _____—you’ll have another challenge to deal with—Myrtle Fife.”
I notice Jerry wincing.

“What about her?” I ask.
“She’s a cantankerous spinster. She likes combos like The Cigar Band; she has seen a couple of their performances, and she likes to blow kisses at the drummer and make eyes at him. When the performance is over she throws rose petals at him. Once she met Jerry at the stage door and gave him a box of Cuban cigars.”

“They were good ones, I admit,” says Jerry.
"So she’s likely to be an amusing pest to us rather than a feared adversary, if she shows,” I muse.

“She is, for the most part,” says Alice. “That doesn’t mean you should let your guard down.”
“I won’t,” I say.
“Speaking of performances—we should get back to the Morpheus soon,” says Jeanette. Our benefit comes up just about the time Jock and Lorna go on their honeymoon.”

“We can wait a few hours,” Alice says. “Right now, we have other matters to attend to.” She squeezes my hand and winks.
Without a word, Jeanette gets the idea. She slips back into the pantry, with Jerry and with Johnny Goss, who has just appeared. Alice and I head upstairs to Bedroom No. 35.

Back in the bedroom, Alice and I undress each other. We slip into the bed side by side at first, as is our wont. She sets her glasses on the nightstand. (Jerry doesn’t wear glasses; I think he uses contact lenses.)
We communicate telepathically. Alice kisses my cheeks, chin, and nose. I gently fondle her breasts.

We think to each other discussing her plans to cloud the minds of interlopers at the wedding, and whether we will visit Ryson and Diem, for any reason, at this time.

[NDP]

*We probably will,*Alice telepathically informs me. We may be the ones who’ll have to spray Stout and we’ll need to know how to do it without hitting someone else by mistake.

Right, I forgot to consider that. But what kind of mind-clouding tactics do you have planned?

Alice smiles when I ask this. Instead of answering telepathically, she sits up and kneels on the bed.

“Let me show you,” she says with a mischievous grin. And, with that, she…

[MonkeyMensch]

…lets slip the flimsy peignoir that barely hid the treasures within. I move with purpose and crawl across the bed to her. But the duvet gives way beneath me, as if it is made of quicksand. I founder, groping helplessly, until my head is nearly consumed when…

[dougie_monty]

…Alice giggles and embraces me.
“You always like to do that, don’t you?” she says, deliberately leaning forward and poking me in the chest with her boobs.

“I like you to do that too, Honey.” We embrace. Now she sits up again.
“Now this is the kind of thing which, in the first phase, we’ll want to do as soon as we park the cars,” she continues.

“‘We?’”
“Yes—Mum, Dad, Arthur, Daniel, Uncle Matthew, Uncle Philip, and I. We want to cloud the minds of the whole wedding party, because the dresses Hermione, Winifred, and I will wear are low-backed. Our wings will be visible when we go inside and remove our wraps.”

“Won’t Father Abromowitz see them? You don’t want to cloud his mind—”
“And I won’t. But he knows about the DXM League and Fred allowed us to tell the priest about the wings. We showed them to Abromowitz, and we even flew around for a minute or so—including Gwen, Thalia, and April Blonda.”

“I still don’t know who the other member of our group is who has wings.”
“I don’t either,” Alice says. “When Fred leaves the hospital we’ll probably find out.”

“Go on, Alice,” I say, gently squeezing her wrists as we sit up in bed side by side.
“I have a second phase of clouding to do while we’re inside. You, Jeanette, Johnny, and Phil will set up and play while I meet with Lorna and her bridesmaids. And if anyone else asks, ______ is at the Sharps’ place. That’s all you’ll need to know.”

“OK, granted you ostensibly have no escort, which would suggest to an onlooker that you are vulnerable. What do you intend to do, to cloud someone’s mind, with a more specific purpose than hiding our wings?”
“Well, we have the ESP, of course. In any case, since we know what Stout and Fife look like—and the ESP will penetrate any disguises—you and I and other DXM people present will know where any Threshold people may be in the audience, Stout and Fife included—or if they may be kitchen workers, or from the florist shop or assisting Father Abromowitz, or helping Frannie with her photography.”

“Jerry gave me some info on that,” I say, “specifically about Myrtle Fife. When we went through his repertoire earlier today, he sketched me a picture of Ms. Fife that I can use. He’s a good artist. I’ll show you the sketch later.”
“As for what I want to accomplish by clouding minds,” Alice continues, “I want to screw up the sensory perception of Stout and Fife so they will miss the moment when Father Abromowitz says ‘I now pronounce you man and wife; you may kiss the bride.’”

“Good,” I say. “The less chance Threshold has to louse up Jock and Lorna’s wedding, the better. And I assume anyone who approaches the church during the ceremony or the reception will be repelled.”
“Exactly,” says Alice. “And I’ll keep the audience’s minds clouded all the way to the end of the reception, even when the limousine Betty Galloway loaned Lorna drives off.”

“Are they going to use George’s white Rolls?” I ask.
“No, that car threw a connecting rod last week. George Galloway took it to Daniel’s garage to get it fixed. Betty loaned them the dark-blue Mercedes instead.”

“That’s good,” I say. “I think dark blue predominates in both the Dumfries and McManus tartans.”
“Now we don’t even know that Stout and Fife, or any other Threshold person, will even be there at St. Aloysius’, since they aren’t on the guest list Lorna showed me.”

“But if they show up, we should send a telepathic message to Parker or Breastly.”
“Absolutely,” says Alice.
She still has her nightie down around her waist. She sighs, as if to express that we have finished our discussion of the matter. I hold her close.

“I just wonder what is in store for us when wedding time comes around,” she says quietly.
“Well, I sure as hell don’t want to be a six-foot-four Scottish woman for that,” I shoot back facetiously.

“Nope,” says Alice, giggling. *** “I*** get to do the woman stuff at our wedding.”
“Speaking of which,” I say, looking deep into those big brown eyes, “start doing ‘woman stuff’ now, Honey.”

“Sure,” she says, with another quick kiss. She lies down on the mattress with her knees up. I straddle her and stick my hardon into her vagina.
We hug and kiss and nuzzle and fondle and screw. Then we thank each other, our faces heavily stained with tears, and we lie down, facing each other, and nod off.

When we wake up in the morning, it’s a bright and sunny day. Alice playfully pokes me in the face with her breasts. I kiss each one; then we have another passionate embrace. I am so lucky to have found this woman…
We get out of bed and shower, and dress. I wear Jerry’s frumpy clothes—a loud Hawaiian shirt and shapeless tan slacks. Alice wears her orange blouse and black slacks. As usual, when we go downstairs to breakfast, she is quite fetching.

We drive out to the Galaxy 100 Mall to meet with Ryson and Diem. On the way, Car, still in the “Nanny” voice, tells us Parker relayed a message: Lady Calley, still incarcerated, has suffered a slight stroke. Dr. Clouse will fill us in later.

As we approach the Spires, Debbie motions to us. She tells us that, since we are no longer new recruits, we have access to the DXM offices through the restaurant kitchen—we approach the entrance through a disguised pantry door in the kitchen. The cook, a towering young Hispanic man, nods and waves us through. Alice and I, followed at first by Debbie, go through the pantry door.

[NDP]

In the pantry, Debbie reaches her hand into a shelf stocked with canned prunes. There’s an audible click and the shelf opens up to reveal a spiral stairway leading downward.

“Follow me,” Debbie directs.

The stairway is a narrow corkscrew and we carefully take each step down. When we get to the bottom, I see that there are three doors colored red, blue, and green respectively.

“Which one do we go in?” I ask.

Debbie says nothing but points her right hand at the door colored…

[dougie_monty]

…green.
“The green door is primarily for access when you are doing research, as in this case.

“The blue door is for most access, including administrative issues—complaints about other DXM members, for example.
“The red door—well, let’s hope you never have to come in by the red door.”

She removes a small ring from her brassiere with three keys on it—one red, one blue, and one green. She turns the green key in its door’s lock.
“When you return you may exit through any of the three doors. The restaurant employees are instructed not to question anyone emerging from the pantry—unless, of course, the person emerging is slovenly or otherwise improperly conspicuous.” She says goodbye for now and returns to the restaurant.

Alice and I now walk down a green corridor. At the end of the corridor is another green door. As we approach, an LED screen lights up on the door with the message, “HALT! State your business! Wait for the audio prompt.” We wait.
Then a voice says, “Give the password.”

“‘Over the river and under the dam,’” Alice and I say in unison.
“Mudcrack Y,” says the voice, giving the countersign.

Now the display on the door reads, “Password accepted. Wait for door to open.”
The door slides sideways. We walk through and it closes quietly behind us.

Again, we are in a DXM office area. It looks like the usual office except, of course, for various people flying across the room. We also see plenty of people walking normally, of course. There are cubicles, computers, fax machines, telephones, and so on.
We approach a wall with a sign framed in green on it. It’s a directory. The entries include “Walt Ryson, Chemistry Operations, Room 7A” and “Trinh Diem, M. D., Biochemistry, Room 7B.”

Out in the next corridor we walk until we come to Room 7A. The name “Walt Ryson” is lettered on the door, along with “Please Knock before Entering.” We knock.
“Who’s there?” Says a cultured male voice with a slight Southern drawl.

“Alice Terwilliger and _______ as Jerry Britton,” Alice says.
“Come in,” says the voice.

We come in. The room is a high-tech chemistry lab. We see the usual counters with Bunsen burners, flasks, retorts, test tubes and such. A current periodic table hangs on one wall; signs and framed directives from the DXM top brass appear on other walls.
Then Walt Ryson appears. He’s a middle-aged man, balding, with ordinary glasses much like mine. He wears a long white coat over a light blue shirt and dark brown slacks.

“Parker said you’d be here this morning,” Ryson says. “He gave me information on the wedding party, but he didn’t tell me what church is involved. I don’t know much about Father Abromowitz.”
“It’s St. Aloysius’ Church at 1023 North Huxton Drive,” I say. “It’s a couple of miles away from the college.”

“Oh, I see what you mean,” he says. He steps over to a file cabinet. He opens a drawer labeled “Churches,” and removes a file marked “St. Aloysius Catholic Church.”
He then sits at a computer and pops a zip disk into a drive. He keys in a code number from the file folder and a display appears on the screen.

“Father Abromowitz, I understand, asked Parker to ensure that any chemicals you use would not cause anyone health problems that would be aggravated by the building itself,” he explains. “The church’s dimensions, shape, and interior building materials must figure in the chemicals you’ll use to deal with Stout, Fife, or anyone else who may be from Threshold.”
He keys in more information. Then he saves the file on the zip disk, which he pops out of the drive and adds to the file. One item in the file is an unopened, plain white envelope; it’s blank.

“Dr. Diem is not in her office. She’s in the biochemistry lab across the way, out this side door.” Walt opens a door. We go through it; we see two corridors separated by about 30 feet of open space, as in a multi-level shopping mall.
“Well, let’s get over there,” he says. He doffs his white lab coat, showing large wings. He hangs the coat on a convenient hatrack nearby. Alice and I remove our tops, which we take with us; the three of us fly across the “chasm.” Dr. Trinh Diem, a short Vietnamese woman with a page-boy haircut and steel-rimmed glasses, greets us as we land. Alice and I put our tops back on; Ryson leaves his wings out. Dr. Diem wears green surgical garb.

“Trinh,” says Walt, “This is Alice Terwilliger and ________ on the Dumfries-McManus mission.” He hands her the file.
She takes it, and removes the Zip disk and the blank envelope; then she sets the rest of the file on a tabletop.

“Oh, yes, this is the one about Buster, Duke, and Loochy.” She apparently has the fur and dander samples we provided, as well as from other critters.
“First I’d like to ask you what you know about Stout and Fife.” The four of us sit at the table as Trinh examines the rest of the file; she hasn’t yet opened the envelope, although she holds a letter-opener she uses for that purpose.

(Of course, I remember what Jerry, as the object of Myrtle Fife’s goofy attention, has told me.)

[NDP]

“Well, we know Stout’s and Fife’s plan for Lorna’s wedding,” I tell her. “They’re planning on releasing a gas into the church that will dissolve the stitching in everyone’s clothes and then assaulting the wedding part with an insanity-inducing reality shift.”

“Yes, I heard about that already,” Trinh says. “Fortunately, the mist I’m preparing should disable Stout with a severe hay fever attack. But what should I know about Fife?”

“She’s an obsessed fan of Jerry Britton,” Alice answers. “I think she’s a step away from being a stalker.”

“Interesting,” Trinh comments as she opens the envelope and takes out…

[dougie_monty]

…a list Father Abromowitz gave Parker. “This is a list of long-term parishioners,” she says.
“There are three members of the church who were in the military and had special training in poison gases and defenses from such gases.”

“I thought poison gases went out with World War I,” I say.
“So did a lot of people. But these three went on special missions: Jo Periwinkle, 77, who was in the WACs in World War II and was one of few women to serve anywhere near a combat zone, in an intelligence unit; Herb Draper, 67, a Marine veteran with service in Korea; and Mario Seeger, 56, an Air Force vet from Vietnam.” She pauses. “Lieutenant Seeger saved my village from a Viet Cong poison-gas attack. I was a child then.”

“Do you believe these people are able to detect poison gases?” Alice asks.
“Absolutely,” says Dr. Diem. “Their training gave them the ability to sense foreign chemicals at a distance. All three became chemistry teachers at the local high school after they left the Service. Not only did they teach the subject well, same as Mr. Basset, but they also provided the school administration with info on suspected drug users in the class. They even got job offers from the DEA—but they preferred teaching.

“Also, Draper and Seeger were trained for hand-to-hand combat. If they are present and they detect Stout or Fife, they may charge the person and, without striking him, overpower him until the both of you can take over.”
“Did you ever gather medical data on Periwinkle, Draper, or Seeger?” Alice asks.

“Indeed I did. All three have been patients of mine. Each one could tell if my custodian was using a pine-scented cleaner anywhere in my medical suite. If Stout or Fife were to start shpritzing any kind of chemical in the church, these three would react immediately. Ms. Periwinkle grew up on a farm and is still a champion hog-caller. Draper is wiry and can still apply a half nelson; Seeger is built like Sylvester Stallone in Rambo—a perfect musclehead. If Stout or Fife approached and used the gas, these three would scotch the attempt in nothing flat!”

“But you need us to be at the church on the mission as well,” Alice comments.
“Yes,” says Ryson. “We don’t know that these three will be at the wedding—you two will be in any case. I’m going to photocopy the list of parishioners Trinh showed us, and give it to you to match with Lorna’s guest list in case these three, or any others we know about, will attend. We have dossiers on all of them, including Abromowitz himself, his assistants, and the choir. If any of the names match Ms. McManus’ guest list, whether it’s Periwinkle, Draper, and Seeger, or not, send us an e-mail; we’ll come out to the Morpheus or the Sharps’ place.”

“Now about the fur and dander samples,” says Alice. “Are these just from Buster, Duke, and Loochy?”
“No, there are several other animals—including fish, birds, reptiles, frogs, larger mammals, and even a Goliath beetle and a tarantula. In any case, the preparation I have compounded should suffice to make Threshold’s gas-attack plan backfire.”

“I never knew anyone would keep a Goliath beetle as a pet,” Alice says. “Although when we were children, Arthur and Daniel used to trap fireflies, ladybugs, praying mantises, and crickets in jars.”
“I think Mary Blonda has something like that,” I say.
“Mary Blonda?” asks Trinh with a smirk. “You mean a Dolly Parton look-alike with an I. Q. of about 170?”

“That’s the one,” I say.
Trinh continues to suppress giggles. “She’s an old friend of mine. She introduced me to Bob and the kids. She has two sweet little boys and a daughter who looks just like her…”
“You must know her well,” I say.

“Oh, I do,” Dr. Diem says. “Mary taught a biology course I took when I was premed.”
The doctor now gives us a two-quart metal bottle filled with the compound she has prepared, that we can shpritz at Stout or Fife or any other Threshold operative. “Use any spray bottle,” she says. “Oh—and ask Mary to e-mail me.” She writes down an e-mail address.

“We will,” we say. We bid Trinh and Walt goodbye; we take our shirts off and fly back across the partition. We return to the exit into Spires, and give Debbie the appropriate gesture. Car is curious, and asks how our visit went; Alice divulges as much as she sees fit.
We return to the Morpheus; rehearsals continue. Lorna is present; Alice approaches her to show her Trinh’s list.

Meanwhile, I see Jeanette approach the seats with Johnny and Jerry who, of course, resembles me while I look like him. Jeanette, perhaps a little absent-minded—there’s no question in my mind that she has just come from a humping session with her friends—wears a teasingly sexy semi-sheer dress. She has a naughty-girl facial expression, and blushes deeply when she sees me, resembling Jerry as I do.

[NDP]

“Why do I feel I just cheated on my boyfriend with my boyfriend?” she muses as she walks by.

I’m about to answer when we’re all jolted by the sound of breaking glass and several loud thuds coming from backstage. I, along with everyone else, rush back to see…

[dougie_monty]

…a large series of shelves far back in the wings that has collapsed. One of the toppled vertical posts fell against a window high on the wall and smashed it.
Jack Sharp tells me, “Go outside and see if anyone was hit by flying glass. I’m going to have Stan and Joe check this out.”

I go outside, with Alice’s Minolta. The broken window is high on the wall overlooking the private parking lot. I look for broken glass, but the only pieces I see are in the bed of Stan Brown’s old green pickup parked in the lot. I take pictures of the scene, including the glass in the pickup and the broken window high on the wall. There are no people on the sidewalk, anywhere nearby.
I go back inside. Stan Brown, Joe Bradley, and George Galloway are examining the collapsed metal structure. From the sounds we heard, it appears that the top shelf collapsed onto the second, which collapsed onto the third, which in turn collapsed onto the bottom shelf. It’s much like the high storage racks in a warehouse or a large discount department store.

“This kind of reminds me of the blue girder board in Donkey Kong,” I say. “Mario jumps over each connecting fitting to remove it. When he jumps over all eight, the structure collapses, toppling the gorilla.”
“Well, this ain’t no video game,” says Stan. He takes a very close look at one of the connections between a vertical beam and a crossbar.
“Phew! This has some real pungent chemical on it!” growls Stan. “I’m calling the building inspector’s office.” He takes out his cell phone to do so.

Meanwhile, Eloise speaks. She notes the ghostly presence of Leo, Ulrica, Thurlow, Luigi, and Alexander Lemoyne hovering overhead.
To our whole party Eloise says, “We’d better check the Morpheus out from roof to sub-basement—and let’s not forget Red Nicholas’ lair or Mr. Galloway’s annex. See if you find any exotic chemicals.”

The Morpheus quickly becomes a beehive of activity as our whole big group searches everywhere. Even Dr. Clouse, Tim Werdin, and George Stanhouse assist in the search.
After about two hours, our group returns to Eloise, in the big conference room. She and Jack are meeting with Lt. Don Clay, Harriet McKenna, Stan Brown, Joe Bradley, and the building inspector, a slight, sandy-haired man named Willis Tamarack, who appears to be an experienced professional.

The ghosts are not present but we anticipate data from them as well, says Eloise to Alice and me, telepathically. We nod.
“It appears that the steel structure was sabotaged with an application of sulphuric acid,” Tamarack says.

“Well,” says Jack Sharp, “My wife and I gathered data from all over the Morpheus, and the only other place where there is sulphuric acid is a locked cabinet in a small side room in the Galloway annex.”
“What do you use it for?” the inspector asks.

“To make dyes,” says Betty Galloway. “My husband and I have a number of employees in that area. We make their uniforms and we even manufacture the dye.”
“We’ll want to question your employees, Mrs. Galloway,” says Don Clay. “Has anyone else, other than the performers and your families, been in this part of the wings where the structure stood?”

“Not in a while, to my knowledge,” says Eloise.
“This is a wild guess,” the official says, “but this may have been timed: the acid may have been inside little sacs and gradually eaten outward until it started to work on the fittings.”

“Well, the structure is in an isolated spot,” says Jack. “Everywhere else the pungent smell would be detected. We don’t go back there that much.”
We should have asked Daniel to check this out, I think to Alice, who nods thoughtfully…

Then I comment telepathically to all DXM people present, We know there isn’t any sulphuric acid anywhere else, don’t we? Everyone else who is DXM silently agrees with me.
Don Clay has some other cops taking pictures and fingerprints. Jeanette, still in the sexy dress, comments, “I bet they find Reid Foraker’s and Brett Donoho’s fingerprints in here.”

“You know them?” Asks Tamarack, somewhat surprised.
“Yes,” says Jeanette. “We hired them as roadies out here.”

Tamarack says grimly, “Foraker and Donoho have done this sort of thing before—you should have checked them out more thoroughly before you hired them, Ms. Strong.”
Jeanette sighs, rather embarrassed. :o

The investigation continues. Alice, Jeanette, Stan Brown, Betty Galloway, Pete Oranjeboom, and I go into the lounge to catch our breath.
Then the ghostly Ulrica Werdin zips in. She hovers around us, ready to tell us important information—and at the same time, Guy Demsey, the place-kicker from the football team, comes into the room.

“I’m glad you could make it, Guy,” Ulrica says. He’s obviously a DXM person himself. Apparently he and Joanie Sharp’s deceased mother have important information, so we Morpheus people sit back and listen to the place-kicker and the ghostly woman.

[NDP]

“The saboteurs are still in the theater,” Ulrica declares. “But you’re going to have a hard time finding them on your own.”

“Where are they?” I ask. “Red Nicholas’ lair?”

“No, if they were in that place, finding them would be a cakewalk,” Ulrica answers. “You’re going to need the help of me, Leo, Thurlow, Luigi, and Alexander to find them.”

“Well, show us where they are,” Stan requests.

“I will,” Ulrica replies, “but I should warn you this task is going to be a lot more difficult than your typical search. You best come prepared.”

“Will we need guns?” I ask.

“You might,” Ulrica answers. "However, this will be a very unusual search. That’s why I asked Guy to join us. There are some other items I think you should bring along. "

“Like what?” asks Alice.

Ulrica says, "Well, for starters you should take…

[dougie_monty]

“…tear-gas squirter.”
“Oh, I have one of those,” says Mrs. Galloway. “George is always concerned for my safety so he gave me this.” Betty extracts a large tear-gas gun from between her breasts.

“That looks adequate,” says Ulrica.
“Incidentally,” says Jeanette, “I picked up your telepathic message, Alice—what could Daniel do?”

“Remember the Astorbilts’ party?” Alice asks. Jeanette nods.
Alice continues, “He detected the tainted blue chemical in the water the Astorbilts’ butler offered to ________. We should have Daniel do a search of the Morpheus, from top to bottom, to detect more things like that sulphuric acid.”

“Isn’t it strange that the structure that was sabotaged is in an out-of-the-way area?” I ask. “Mr. Sharp told Tamarack we don’t go back there often.”
“We had originally planned to use a forklift in here,” says Stan. “But we abandoned the idea when we couldn’t decide where to store it—and Mr. Sharp’s workers complained about exhaust fumes when we did bring one in.”

“Well, we’d better get dressed for the part,” says Guy.
Jeanette sets her huge purse down. She takes a pair of denim cut-offs and a big, sloppy sweatshirt out. She surprises us by slipping her dress off right in front of us! :eek: She has on nothing under the dress but sheer nylon panties. She folds the dress and slips it into the purse, and dons the sweatshirt and the cut-offs. She is wearing flats.

“Ms. Strong, I don’t think Guy meant right now!” says Ulrica.
While we wait for Guy to put his eyeballs back into his head, Ulrica continues.

“You will also need: A powerful lantern; a pocket watch; a bullhorn; an infrared camera; and some nylon cord. Meet me in the wings in half an hour. Oh—and Alice, bring your Minolta, too.”
Thirty minutes later, we meet Ulrica backstage.

“There’s an attic room, just above the lighting grid,” Ulrica says. “Use the stairway behind the main dressing rooms.”
We go up there—Alice, Pete Oranjeboom, Stan Brown, Betty Galloway, Jeanette Strong, and I, along with Guy Demsey and Ulrica the ghost. We’re all properly dressed. I have my Magnum, and I think Stan packs a handgun, too.

“I’ll slip in first, invisibly, to make sure they’re still up here. You wait outside. And this door isn’t locked.”
We wait as the late Ms. Werdin goes through the door. There is a pause. She reappears.

“All right,” Ulrica says. “Go on in. Move carefully. And speak only telepathically.”
We go inside and quietly close the door. I note a musty smell like from old mattresses. It’s like a giant attic: there are trunks, bundles, crates, and odd machines here and there. We don’t need the lantern yet—there are windows here and there along the walls and we have just enough daylight to see.

We tiptoe along. We walk about a hundred feet from the door.
“FREEZE!!”
Brett Donoho, the tall, skinny Shaggy look-alike, and Reid Foraker, the short guy with spiky black hair, confront us. They point shotguns at us.

“We expected you’d find us up here sooner or later,” growls Brett. "All right, all of you, put that stuff down and get up against that wall.” We comply.
They poke Jeanette and Betty in the back with the shotguns.

“Take your clothes off, Jeanette,” Reid orders. “You, too, old lady.”
The two women start to do so. Then suddenly Guy yelps and falls over, as if dead. As he hits the concrete floor he makes a sound as if a hunk of metal fell to the floor.

Brett and Reid run over to him. He starts to glow bright orange and he emits a thick cloud of black smoke.
“Yipe!” holler Brett and Donoho, dropping their guns.

Stan and Pete overpower them. Alice snaps pictures as Messrs. Brown and Oranjeboom tie the saboteurs up with nylon cord. Guy stands up, returning to normal.
Jeanette growls, “All right, let’s get going!”

We all return to the door. We go out, with our captives and our equipment we never got a chance to use. (Thankfully, we didn’t have to use our guns either. We’ll ask Ulrica later why we needed all that stuff.)
As we go outside and Stan closes and locks the door, Ulrica and Betty high-five, so to speak.

Back in the wings, we call Lieutenant Clay and Hermione. We tell them what happened and they arrest and Mirandize Foraker and Donoho—who had been on parole.
“Just the same, I still want Daniel to search the theater thoroughly,” says Alice as she and I embrace.

Now Joan Breastly approaches. She has the letter written by silversmith Gregory Rimpau (“Ggrvmp”) to Red Nicholas in the 1880s. She prepares to read a passage from it, but asks all of us to go into the conference room. We do so.

“This passage in Rimpau’s letter establishes the connection between Nicholas’ early contact with an adversary in Sikes-Potter’s family, and the forbears of those two roadies you just captured in the attic,” Ms. Breastly says. Clay and Hermione take Brett and Donoho away.

Joan reads to us from the letter. It’s a long passage in which Rimpau writes to Red about the Foraker and Donoho families, and his enmity with them.

[NDP]

*Mr. Nicholas, I heard you are considering hiring two men named Harold Foraker and Thomas Donoho as guards. I urge you not to do so.

Years ago, I had a rather unpleasant encounter with two men I believe to be the same Harold Foraker and Thomas Donoho you are considering hiring. At the time, I was working as an apprentice silversmith in Virginia City and unwisely went into a saloon one evening. There, I was accosted by two intoxicated men who said they did not want “my kind” in the town and started insulting me. I left the saloon but the two drunkards kept following me and calling me filthy names all the way back home. After I went inside, they left and I thought I had seen the last of them. However, that was not to be for the next evening…*

[dougie_monty]

*At that time, I had finished the day’s work and Foraker and Donoho came in and robbed me of my day’s supply of silver. They beat me, left me for dead, and set fire to my home.
My mother, who had been in bed in another room recovering from cholera, heard the commotion. She saw me lying on the floor half-dead, but she smothered the fire and sped out the door with her best frying-pan. She caught up with the drunkards, and hit each of them over the head with it, knocking them out. Then she dragged them back to our home.

I roused myself and staggered to the door. I insisted on helping her. We loaded Foraker and Donoho into our wagon and took them to Amoruso Bluff. There we unloaded them, removed their clothes, and left them there, still out cold. We never saw them again.
I know you have seen them in or near the Morpheus Theatre. I urge you to avoid them and ask the sheriff to keep an eye on them. I sense that they mean to make a cheap saloon and bordello of the theatre.

I had some friends in the Tlingit tribe who had visited an establishment Foraker and Donoho owned several years ago, a few miles north of San Francisco. The whisky was tainted with laudanum, and the women in the bordello were diseased. Countless patrons left without their money, their clothing, or—sometimes—without other things.
Their whole families are rotten through and through. I have heard of your rites, Red, but these two families are far worse. Incest, opium dealing, child prostitution, barratry, political corruption—the families are riddled with evil through and through; and Mother even believes they are associated with that London rotter, Phileas Sikes-Potter.

Both Foraker and Donoho have a morbid fascination for fires—like that heiress Lillie Coit in San Francisco. If anyone in their family sees so much as a smoking ember, of any size, they will approach just to watch it. They thus let their guard down, even if they are armed, and it is easy to overpower them.
Should Harold or Thomas ever threaten your theatre, or both, remember my words. And if you feel the need to repel them and their ilk permanently, there is a volume buried 40 feet down in a stone urn near the outhouse at Siddely’s farm, about four miles west of the theatre. It contains incantations which Mother used in the Antilles to deal with Sikes-Potter’s minions. Mother spoke these incantations the day after the drunken Foraker and Donoho came to my house.”*

That’s quite a story,” says Alice, clinging to me.
“Where is, or was, Siddely’s farm?” I ask.

“It was about two miles on the other side of the high-school football field,” Stan Brown says. “The farm disappeared about the same time Nicholas went into seclusion beneath the Morpheus. The outhouse, of course, was some distance from the farmhouse and the well—the three structures were like points on a triangle. In fact, the site of the outhouse is still a vacant lot because, understandably, the ground is soft—nobody could build a solid foundation there.”
“I think it’d be a good idea to ask Leo or another ghost to locate Rimpau’s urn for us,” I suggest. “You know, from a distance—for obvious reasons.”

Leo and Ulrica in fact are present.
“That’ll be fairly easy,” says Ulrica. “In fact, my great-grandmother, who was born in 1870, lived on the farm just beyond the Siddelys’.”

“What was her name?” Alice asks.
“Priscilla Goodheart Troutdale,” she replies. “She was a forbear of the restaurant family you’ve been researching.”

Alice and I clasp hands snugly. I proposed to her just after our research on the Troutdales, in Eloise’s library.
Leo now reminisces. “During my mortal years, I courted both Priscilla and Althea Siddely, whose father owned the farm. Rimpau had done some building for Hezekiah Siddely and set up the outhouse, the barn, and the henhouse for him. He could very easily have buried a stone urn at that time—and it’s still there, waiting for someone to dig it up.”

“Who owns the land?” Alice asks.
“I do,” says Stan. “Victor Lemoyne sold it to me for a pittance—that’s about what it’s worth.”

Meanwhile, Hermione returns. Since Alice and I, and the others, were the ones confronted by Reid Foraker and Brett Donoho in the attic, she tells us what they’ve found out.
“We got a warrant to search the room in the Mason Hotel where the roadies lived,” Hermione says. “We found, among other things, documents listing every mishap that’s happened in the Morpheus since your rehearsals started. There is, however, nothing listed as future incidents. Those guys face a long stretch in San Quentin.”

We sigh with relief.
Jeanette mutters, “Johnny and I never should have hired them as roadies…”

Now, before we discuss Reid and Brett further, or Lorna’s wedding plans (or those Alice and I have, for that matter), Leo continues to reminisce about his life with the Siddleys, and Gregory Rimpau’s contact with them, during his mortal years: