Surreal continuing story: walking through doors and passageways

NDP · December 3, 2003, 8:20am

“I found the lockbox in a nearby park.”

“Which park?” Hermione asks.

“Greenland Park,” Elwood answers, “the one with all those weird shaped topiary figures. Anyway, I found it purely by accident. I was looking at a squirrel running across the lawn and up a red cedar when I noticed a metallic glint high up in the tree. I walked closer to the cedar and looked up. Sure enough, there was the lockbox in a notch in the trunk over 20 feet up. I was going to head back here and tell everyone where it was but, just then, I was surrounded by dozens of squirrels … and hamsters!”

“Hamsters?” I say incredulously (as though the idea of lockbox-stealing squirrels now just seemed routine).

“Yeah, hamsters,” Elwood says. “They were all encroaching in on me. I tried to escape by rushing a line of the rodents and jumping over them, but those little bastards knew what I was going to do. Jumping on top of the squirrels, the hamsters drew a string across the path I was jumping over and tripped me up. Then, as I hit the ground, the squirrels and hamsters overcame me before I could get back up. For a panicked second, I thought they were going to devour me or–at least–rip out my jugular vein. However, when I saw the hamsters carrying little stakes, hammers, and ropes, I realized what they were going to do: they were tying me down to the ground like the Lilliputians did to Gulliver.”

“What happened next?” an engrossed Hermione asks.

Elwood continues…

dougie_monty · December 3, 2003, 1:55pm

“One of them had a small terry-cloth washrag and put it over my nose and mouth.”
Dr. Clouse sniffs Elwood’s collar warily. “Ether,” she says.

“I passed out. When I regained consciousness I was completely tied down.”
“So how did you get free?” I ask.

Elwood smirks. “The ‘ropes’ they used must have been mop strings. I’ve been tied up before, so I rocked back and forth, and lunged, a fraction of an inch at a time. Little by little I managed to loosen the ‘ropes’ and the stakes—which must have been golf tees.
“When I stood up, the squirrels and hamsters who were present, saw me and darted into a hole in the ground farther away from the sidewalk. I glanced up at the tree and saw the lockbox, still there, as if it were silently defying me to go up and get it. I walked across the street and came back this way.”

“Which red cedar is it?” Alice asks.
“Over near the northeast corner of South Bradford Street and Superba Drive,” Elwood says. “It’s right near the corner—there’s a fire hydrant by the curb. I live about two blocks away.”

“Hmmm,” says Hermione. “I know where that is. There’s a big brown stucco house across Superba, at the southeast corner, with a green-and-white awning over the kitchen window.”
“Yeah,” says Elwood. “Old Man Marsh lives there.”

“Old Man Marsh?” asks Winifred. “Would that be Willard Marsh, a retired zoo curator?”
“The same,” says Elwood. “He seems to have become a real grump in the last three years, since he retired.”

In fact, all of us have crossed the path of Willard Marsh, a naturalist who taught zoology at my college for a few years. He bears a resemblance to Wilford Brimley.
“He may have had something to do with your Lilliputian rodents,” I say.

“Sure,” says Elwood. “I’ve seen cages in the back yard. I think he still cares for small animals.”
“Well, we know where the box is and how it got there,” says Jeanette. “Any ideas on how to retrieve it?”

“I have one,” says Eloise. “Elwood, you said you live not far away from Bradford and Superba. Is Old Man Marsh always out there?”
“No, Ms. Sharp,” he answers. “In the middle of the week he visits his sister and her family in Lodi. He usually gets back on Thursday or Friday.”

“Fine,” says Eloise. “Jeanette, go get little Jack and bring him in here.”
Jeanette, wearing a dressy white blouse and navy-blue skirt with matching pumps, obliges. A few minutes later she returns with the seven-year-old Jack Sharp II.

“Ms. Strong said you wanted me, Grandma.”
“Yes, honey,” says Eloise, sitting her grandson on her lap. “You know how to move things with your mind.”

“Yes,” he says.
Winifred approaches. “Jack, we’d like you to go with us to Greenland Park and get a metal box out of a tree.”

“Okay,” Jack answers.
Winifred, says, “I think I can get Bob Long and Professor Fields to help. Ulrica, can you and Thurlow run interference for us?”

“Sure,” says the ghostly Ms. Werdin.
So we go out to Greenland park in two vehicles—Alice, Jeanette, Johnny Goss and I in Alice’s talking Beetle; Eloise, Elwood, Professor Fields, Bob Long, Jack II, Winifred, and Mary Blonda in Eloise’s big van. The ghosts are with us, too.

We park near the intersection—Alice parks just past the red curb beyond the fire hydrant, Eloise about fifty feet back from the red cedar. It’s a sunny day. We have a two-way intercom set up in the vehicles, and Alice, Jeanette, Johnny, and I listen to the conversation in the van.
“Is that the tree?” Eloise asks.

“That’s it,” says Elwood.
“Jack, honey, can you see the box in the tree?”

“Yes, Grandma,” says the boy.
“Now move it to Ms. Terwilliger’s car. They have a window open.”

The boy obeys. With the foliage of four trees—the red cedar, two magnolias, and a weeping willow—between the van and Alice’s Beetle, the path the psychokinetically moving lockbox takes is not visible to anyone except Jack and the others in his grandmother’s van. Sure enough, the lockbox wafts in through the window and lands gently on my lap. I roll up the window and get on the intercom. “Thank you, Jack,” I say.
“You’re welcome, Mr. ______,” says the boy.

Alice starts the car. We return directly to the Morpheus, followed by Eloise’s van. We both park in the private lot, and carry the lockbox back inside. We lock it in George Galloway’s big safe, and ask Cornelis and Leo to keep an eye on it until Joan Breastly returns, which she does soon afterward. Winifred has reported that the box has been recovered; still, the cops with the sprayer and the camera will return tomorrow anyway, to check for prints the ninhydrant process may have raised. Personally, I think Old Man Marsh may have been involved. Jack Sharp Senior asks Stan and Joe to check the crawl space beneath the Morpheus, and fasten new grating around the crawl-space vents. They do so.

We relax in the conference room, with a sigh.
“Well, now we should concentrate on the Grange Hall and Madame Zoozoo’s urn.”

“I’ve been watching the area,” says Luigi. And no, no hamsters or squirrels have any tunnels anywhere near that neighborhood.”
Olivia says, “Well, my Dad said he’d come over here—the bar and grill is closed for floor polishing.”

Randolph Short arrives. He is in his late forties, with an average build and sandy red hair. He wears clothes like Norm Abram’s. He embraces his daughter Olivia, who introduces him to Alice, Eloise, Winifred, Elwood, Jeanette, Buster, and me.

NDP · December 4, 2003, 7:13am

I tell him we’d like to inspect the Grange Hall and ask what would be a good time to do it.

“You can do it this evening,” Randolph says. “The inside of the building is pretty odd so you’re going to need me to guide you through it.”

“That’s what I’ve heard about the Grange Hall’s interior,” Alice says. “How is it odd?”

Randolph states, "First off…

dougie_monty · December 4, 2003, 1:31pm

“…there are three stairways to the second floor, whereas most buildings the size of the Grange Hall have only one, or, rarely, two.
“On the second floor, there is a skylight that during daylight illuminates the central area, outside the rooms. It’s one of the largest Plexiglas skylights ever installed in this part of California.

“Did you ever read ‘Masque of the Red Death’ by Poe? In that story, the suite of seven rooms was connected, one room to the next, by odd angles rather than being in a straight line. The rooms each had one predominant color—one was green, one was blue, and so on. The last was black. The windows were tinted to match the color scheme—except that the seventh and last had a window tinted blood-red.

“In the Grange Hall, on the second floor, all three stairways connect to one walled-in hallway. Two stairways near the outer walls are straight, while the third, in the center, is a stairwell. You go out a door and you’re in the nearly-square central area—surrounded by pale green walls and seven doors, all identical except each is painted a different color, to correspond with the color predominating inside the room. Starting with the first one, on the north wall, No. 1, white, is the stair hall.

“No. 2, orange, is A&B Tax Service.
“No. 3, yellow, is Eccles’ Restaurant Supply.
“No. 4, green, is Holmes & Alton Theatrical Agency.
“No. 5, blue, is Gutiérrez’ computer repair.
“No. 6, purple, leads to my second-floor equipment room and the upstairs restroom.
“No. 7, red, is the J&J Pie Shop.”

We take notes. Jerry Britton, the most artistically inclined among us, draws a sketch of his conception of the layout of the second floor. He shows it to Mr. Short.
“That’s it,” Randolph says, “except, remember—the stair access door is closer to the northwest corner, and the doors go clockwise in the order I mentioned.” Jerry acknowledges and makes the necessary corrections.

“What about the first floor?” Alice asks.
“The first floor is considerably more mundane,” Mr. Short says. “There’s the conventional bar, with stools and booths; the grill and eating area; a dance floor; an area for playing draw poker and blackjack; an office; a restroom; and my workroom, a bedroom I use, a supply closet, and such.”

“Is there anything outside?” I ask.
“Just a lawn and some lemon bushes,” Short says. “And there’s a shed with lawn tools. It’s hard to tell the outside from a squarish house. I got the owners’ permission to install a large satellite dish on the roof; it seems the people in J&J, and I, are the only ones to use it. They don’t even have a TV installed at the bar.”

“We know we’d like to check for false walls in the restrooms,” says Jeanette.
“Well, you’ll have your work cut out for you, Ms. Strong,” says Randolph. “I haven’t examined the walls, you understand, but the people who built the restrooms—both were extensively remodeled about five years ago by a crew hired by Kyle Arbeit—were experienced professionals.”

That’s the guy Parker said was cleared to build for DXM, I think to Alice.
“If you are looking for ‘false walls’ you’ll have a long search,” continues Mr. Short. “They’d be hard to detect.”

We haven’t told Olivia’s Dad we’re looking for false walls in floor cabinets, not the whole restroom.
“Of course, I’ll have to be in the building with you,” he tells us. “The owners said I must be on the premises whenever the businesses are not open, unless I find someone to substitute for me.”

“Well, we’re ready to go over there this evening, Mr. Short,” says Eloise. “Would you join us for dinner?”
“I’d like that—thank you very much, Ms. Sharp.”

We all go to De Caro’s—and Mr. Short tells us he has been there quite a few times. The Barones and Luglios are delighted to hear Olivia’s Dad speak Italian to them—he had been in the Service, stationed in Europe.

After dinner we return to the Morpheus. We change into moderately dark, modest clothing—not to commit burglary, of course, but just so we won’t attract attention. We know Winifred and Hermione are patrolling the area tonight in a black-and-white unit. Our party consists of Alice, Jeanette, Betty Galloway, Louise Brown, Jan Oranjeboom, Susan Bradley, and Claudia Hart—and, of course, Olivia and her Dad, and me. Jeanette brings Jerry’s sketch along.
We get to the building in time to see Rick Anderson, who looks like Tom Selleck, come out the door with his briefcase. “He and Dana Babbitch run the tax service,” Mr. Short says.

Anderson bids us goodbye and leaves.
We go inside. Short sets an old-fashioned bar across the front door, from the inside; he also sets a modern deadbolt on the other outside door, and switches an alarm keypad to “on.”

We pause at the bar, with ice water, before heading upstairs.
We use the central stairwell. Though it’s dark, the building is well lighted inside.

Olivia and her father lead the way. We get out into the central area upstairs, looking at the colored and numbered doors that surround us.
Jeanette speaks up. “What kind of business is the J&J Pie Shop?” she asks.

Mr. Short, blushing slightly, explains as we face the red door:

NDP · December 5, 2003, 7:37am

“Well … uh … it’s what the sign says it is: a pie shop.”

“Ever buy any pies from there?” Jeanette asks.

“Uh … no,” Mr. Short stammers. “It’s only been open for a short time so I haven’t had the opportunity to try their wares.”

“You seem a bit uncomfortable talking about the J&J Pie Shop,” I say.

"Well, " Mr. Short states, "if you really must know why…

dougie_monty · December 5, 2003, 1:24pm

“I’ll tell you right out. I believe, and the owners suspect, that it’s a brothel.”
“The owners could get into a lot of trouble allowing a brothel to operate in their building,” says Mrs. Galloway.

“Well, we have to have hard evidence,” Mr. Short replies. “When I go in there on Tuesdays, all I see is an ordinary office, and two side rooms with large closets—that are locked. I don’t have the key. There are only two tables and a few chairs in each side room, besides the usual doors, windows, light fixtures, and the closets. And the walls are all red.”
“Do the other tenants ever comment about the ‘clientele’ in Room 7?” I ask.

“No,” says Randolph. “I unlock the doors around 6:30 a.m., and I’ll usually see Mr. Eccles, Mr. Gutiérrez, or Ms. Alton come in first, bright and early. I rarely see people visiting Room 7 because the only time I go upstairs during business hours is to vacuum the carpeting in the stairway hall, or, rarely, the hallway in front of the doors.”
“I’ve heard that the police, for one, are suspicious of J&J,” I say. “Do those people have some kind of ‘front’—a phony business façade?”

“Well, sort of,” Mr. Short says. “All I know is that the ‘proprietor’ brings me a fresh-baked pie two or three times a week. Usually it’s a cherry pie. The owners were here two weeks ago when she did that and they did not object—like the pie could have been a ‘bribe’ or something.”
“How did the J&J people get into the building in the first place?” Alice asks.

“Well, about six weeks ago, when Mr. Saylor, the principal owner, came up here from San Ysidro, the J&J ‘proprietor’—a pudgy, garrulous woman named Janna Jamieson—came into the building. I had put up a sign reading ‘Office for Rent’ on the front door, and she applied. Mr. Saylor was present. And I was present when Mr. Saylor watched them bring in the furniture that I see when I clean up in there. Whatever they have in the closets came in when I was not present.”

“Well, there’s no question but that you’ll have to gather evidence that they’re running a brothel, before the cops raid the place,” says Betty Galloway.
“That’s the rub,” says Mr. Short.

Betty pauses. “You know, George—my husband—knows a lot of the business owners and landowners hereabouts. He may know the Saylors.”
“Good idea,” says Randolph. “Perhaps your husband can convince the Saylors to order that the closets be opened, on a fire-safety pretext or some such.”

“You know,” says Jan Oranjeboom, “We ought to have one of the ghosts snoop in Room 7 during business hours. And, hey, my Mom said that the police were considering securing a search warrant for that room.”
“Well, a ghost can’t testify, but they might give Mr. Galloway ideas fort a pretext to suggest to the Saylors,” says Alice.

“Hi there!” says Ulrica Werdin, appearing suddenly. Mr. Short jumps back a few inches.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Dad,” says Olivia. “We didn’t tell you about Ulrica. She’s the deceased wife of Dr. Tim Werdin, the physicist I told you is visiting the Morpheus.”

Mr. Short pulls himself together.
“Uh—excuse me—Ms. Werdin—I’ve never met a ghost before.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Short—I shouldn’t have startled you,” says the late Ulrica.
“Well,” says Randolph, settling down now, “Ms. Werdin, can you do us a favor? We’d like you to look in on Room 7 during business hours tomorrow and tell us what goes on. We suspect that a woman named Janna Jamieson is running a brothel there.”

“Janna Jamieson?” asks Ulrica. “She probably is.”
Ulrica’s face turns grim. “I don’t know if Tim ever said anything to you about it, but I was an underage runaway in Ojai, and Janna took me in. Before I knew what was going on I was a ‘white slave.’ Tim was attending college, and he heard me crying one night. He and his frat pals sneaked over later that night and slipped me out of Janna’s place. My family had Janna arrested the next day. I’m sure she’s running a brothel here.”

Ulrica’s story has sobered us.
“Well, Ms. Werdin, we’d like you to look in on Room 7 tomorrow and tell us tomorrow evening what you have seen—including what is in those closets they keep locked.”

“I’ll do that,” the ghost says.
Well, now we start poking around in the cabinets in the restrooms, searching for false walls, a ruby, and a book of incantations. Then Betty hears her cell phone, in her purse, ringing.

She takes the call. “It’s George,” she says. “Mr. Short, can you let him in? He’s right outside.”
“Gladly,” Randolph says. He goes down and disarms and un-bars the front door, long enough for George Galloway to enter. Mr. Galloway carries a laptop and he comes upstairs. He embraces Betty, and they join Alice, Mr. Short, and me. The others are checking the cabinets in the first-floor restroom. George and Betty talk privately for a while.

George, after hearing the story, sighs and says, “Yes, I know Marcus Saylor in San Ysidro,” he says. “Without mentioning ‘ghosts,’ I’ll prepare a letter to him and print it out at the Morpheus, and mail it to him.”

George, using a card table that Mr. Short brings upstairs, bats out a letter to the principal owner on his laptop. Alice, Betty, Mr. Short, Olivia, and I, read the text of the letter on the laptop screen:

NDP · December 6, 2003, 8:27am

*Dear Mr. Saylor:

As owner of the old Grange Hall, there is something regarding one of your tenants that you should know about. Specifically, it has come to my attention that the proprietors of the J&J Pie Shop have…*

dougie_monty · December 6, 2003, 1:38pm

*…kept the closets in Room 7 locked—even your caretaker Randolph Short does not have a key. We believe that the proprietor of J&J, Janna Jamieson, is running a brothel in that room. We understand that she allegedly kept at least one underage girl captive for child prostitution in Ojai, and in fact, Mr. Short, as well as the local police, has a strong suspicion that Ms. Jamieson is running a similar operation in the Old Grange Hall building, without the owners’ knowledge.

If you are interested, I can have a private detective inspect the closet area in Room 7, as well as shadow the people who go in and out during business hours. I find it unusual that your caretaker, Mr. Short, would not possess a key to the closets in Room 7.
We also suspect that stolen property may be hidden in the restrooms, and Mr. Short, who I understand has the authority, has allowed me, my wife, and some associates of ours to search those rooms.

You may contact me at g&bgalloway79 @hotmail.com or c/o The Morpheus Theatre, 1631 South Bradford Street, ______, CA.
Sincerely, George Galloway.*

We all look at Mr. Galloway’s letter. “I’ll send this to him by e-mail in a minute,” Mr. Galloway says.
“The hard part,” says Alice, “will be convincing Marcus Saylor that we know what’s going on in Room 7. The information we get from two ghosts [Leo and Ulrica] won’t satisfy him.”

“Well, maybe the ‘fire-safety’ pretext will,” says Mr. Galloway. “I don’t know the law all that well, but I think it’s illegal for tenants to lock owners out of any part of the property: even tenants of rented houses or apartments must allow access to the owner for repairs or emergencies.”
“And the local fire department would have some latitude,” says Betty. “No property is so sacrosanct that it couldn’t present a fire danger to others—and I think the other business tenants here would have an interest in that.”

“No question about that,” says Mr. Short. “Zack Peters—the bartender—and I have a perfect right to feel safe on the first floor; and Mr. Eccles, Ms. Alton, and the others, are within their rights to insist that Ms. Jamieson allow me to unlock the closets in Room 7. And the Saylors would have plenty of latitude here as well.”
“Good idea,” I say. “While we can’t convince Mr. Saylor to force J&J to unlock the closets on Ulrica’s say-so—forgive me, Ulrica—but if everyone else in the building pressures Ms. Jamieson that should suffice.”

“Well, okay,” says Ulrica, hovering over us. “Tomorrow evening I’ll give you all a full report, at the Morpheus, on what I find in the closets. I’ll see you all then.” She vanishes.
“Well,” says Alice, “now that Ms. Werdin is doing her part let’s take care of other business here.”

We return to the two restrooms. Sure enough, Alice, kneeling in front of the floor cabinet in the restroom upstairs, sets stacks of towels and packages of soap and toilet paper aside; she feels the back wall and a Masonite panel wobbles, then falls forward. She lifts the small panel out.
“_______, honey, bring my Minolta,” Alice says.

I get the camera from her handbag. I reach it to her and mischievously rest my hand on her backside.
“Oh stop that!” she snaps; but she can’t suppress giggles. She takes some pictures.

Then she hands me a book that bears the title Noah Crisdel’s Book of Incantations, along with a ruby the size of a walnut, and a small, frowzy-looking metal box held shut with a twist-tie; it’s about the size of a cigar box.
“I’ve been looking for that box,” Mr. Short says. He opens it. “I thought so—my old tool box!” There are wrenches and screwdrivers in it. He takes it and sets it on the countertop. I wrap the other items in terrycloth towels and set them in my tote bag.

Last of all, Alice removes a rusty old toy pistol that looks like it’s been there for years. It’s caked with grime and grit. She sets the Masonite panel back in the back of the cabinet. She stands up and shows me the toy gun. She gingerly puts the end of the muzzle up near her nose.
“‘It’s been fired recently,’” she says facetiously.

“‘You know, if you could cook, I’d marry you!” I say, just as facetiously. We embrace and laugh.
Now our work is done at the Grange Hall—except for Ulrica and whatever gumshoe Mr. Galloway will hire. We pack up and leave, bidding Mr. Short goodbye; we leave the metal toolbox and the rusty old toy pistol with him; as we leave we see him put them under the bar. We all return to the Morpheus.

In the lounge, I ask Mr. Galloway, “Who’s the private eye you intend to hire?”
Olivia interrupts. “Why, Carl Sharp, of course,” she says as her boyfriend approaches. In fact he shows us his detective badge. He goes off into a corner to discuss the matter with George and Betty.

Meanwhile, Alice and I go into Jack Sharp’s office to relax. I sit in Mr. Sharp’s desk chair; Alice sits on my lap. We start smooching.
“Well, what’s next?” I ask.

Alice sets her glasses on the desk. She smiles and says, “Well, next we’ll go out to Mr. Brown’s lot and get a report from Luigi Luglio on the stone urn.”
We cuddle for a while.

Then Daniel appears. “At it again, I see,” he says. “Well, Mr. Galloway sent me—you’ll have to postpone your necking session.”
We sigh; still disheveled, Alice redons her glasses and we go with Daniel to the conference room, where Mr. Galloway shows us an e-mail he just got from Marcus Saylor:

NDP · December 7, 2003, 7:29am

*Dear Mr. Galloway:

I appreciate your concern about possible illegal activities that one of my tenants may be conducted. However, I must mention that when I leased the space for the J&J Pie Shop, I dealt with an older man named Willard Marsh who represented a company named “TH Enterprises.” Now, it is entirely possible the day-to-day operations of the business are performed by Janna Jamieson but I never conducted any business transactions with her. Moreover, I…*

dougie_monty · December 7, 2003, 1:57pm

*hesitate to ask a tenant to open access to locked closets. In this regard, I would want a written request from the caretaker, Randolph Short.
I have not had complaints from the other tenants concerning the business in Room 7. However, you are welcome to discuss this issue with the other tenants. I prefer to have direct contact with them if they sense an improper situation to exist in Room 7.

And if, for example, you believe that Mr. Short should have access to the closets in Room 7 to inspect them, for example, in the name of fire safety, I refer you to the Fire and Safety Code of ________ City.

In short, I am willing to act on the matter, on behalf of the other owners. But I shall act only if I have reason to believe that the other business tenants, as well as caretaker Short and bartender Zachary Peters, consider an unsafe or illegal situation to exist as a direct result of activities in Room 7. If you are able to furnish evidence that such a situation exists, or that Mr. Marsh has misrepresented something to me in the process of leasing Room 7 to the J&J Pie Shop, I shall take action. Until then, I intend to leave Ms. Jamieson and her business alone. I thank you for your concern.

Sincerely, Marcus F. Saylor, principal owner, The Old Grange Hall.*
We sigh.

“Well, that’s all we can do about it,” says Mr. Galloway. “We aren’t the local police—and without a warrant even they can’t go into the closets.”
We mull this over. Then I get an idea.

“Mr. Galloway, is Elwood still in the theater?”
“Yes, I believe he is; he’s watching the rehearsals.”

“Daniel,” says Alice, “Go find Elwood Olyphant, in the seats, and ask him to come here.” He does so.
A few minutes later, Elwood, in street clothes, comes in. Daniel leaves.

“Elwood,” I ask, “didn’t you say Old Man Marsh goes to visit his sister in Lodi in the middle of the week?”
“He sure does,” says Elwood. “He’s done that every Tuesday evening since the end of the 2003 Spring Semester at the college, without fail—and he doesn’t come back until late Thursday night or early Friday morning.”

“I don’t see what you mean, _____,” says Alice.
“Here it is,” I reply. “If Marsh were out of town he couldn’t very well talk to Mr. Saylor at the Grange Hall, could he?”

“No, I guess he couldn’t,” Alice says. “Oh—I understand.”
“Now we can ask Mr. Short what day—about a month ago—Marsh is supposed to have met Mr. Saylor at the Grange Hall to arrange the lease for the J&J Pie Shop. If it’s at the time of the week that Marsh was visiting his sister in Lodi, then Marsh has misrepresented the matter to the owners!”

“Besides,” says Mr. Galloway, “We should also ask Randolph to discuss the matter with the other tenants. Especially so with the suspicion of others—including the police—being what it is.”
“I just thought of this,” says Alice. “If Carl Sharp is a private detective, couldn’t we ask him to go undercover on Monday and pose as a customer for J&J Pie Shop?”

“That could work,” says Mr. Galloway. “They don’t advertise, nor are they anywhere in the local phone book. All they have is a mention in the second-floor directory there and the number 7 on the door. That suggests to me anyone could be a walk-in customer.
“We should discuss this with Joan Breastly. She’s coming soon to pick up the ruby and the Crisdel book of incantations. You still have them, don’t you?”

“I sure do,” I say. I present my tote bag and open the terry towels, showing the gem and the book. Mr. Galloway inspects them and re-wraps them.
“We can contact Short about this—and switch the speakerphone on so he can attend our meeting, even though he’s still at the Grange Hall. Ulrica can verify that he’s the one at the other end of the line. We’ll have Carl Sharp, Hermione, Professor Fields, Fred, Elwood, and Buster meet us here with Ms. Breastly, and with Mr. Short via the phone.”

Alice and I know that the next item on our agenda is to locate the stone urn in Stan Brown’s lot. But now Joan Breastly arrives. Her red hair is now hip-length and she wears a bright blue skirt and vest, with matching pumps, and a tight white satin blouse.
Mr. Galloway phones Randolph Short and switches the speakerphone on, and explains to the caretaker what we want to do. And we contact Ulrica Werdin, telepathically. We’ll all be able to receive her telepathic messages.

Wait’ll you hear about what I found in those closets! she says mentally. We ask her to wait; she complies.
Ms. Breastly sits down and we get to business. She takes the wrapped ruby and book and inspects them, then puts them into her handbag. Buster jumps up on the table and faces Joan too.

Alice and I explain to Joan, and to Mr. Short on the phone, what we suspect, including Mr. Marsh’s possible absence at the time he was supposed to be present with Mr. Marcus F. Saylor at the Grange Hall.

NDP · December 8, 2003, 7:51am

“This just occurred to me,” Alice says, “but did you notice that Saylor’s e-mail said the J&J Pie Shop was owned by a ‘TH Enterprises?’”

“Yes, I did,” I answers.

“Well, when I read that, alarm bells went off in my head,” she explains. “I don’t know about you but, to me, the ‘TH’ in ‘TH Enterprises’ can only stand for one thing.”

“Theshold?” I ask fairly sure of the answer.

“You are correct, sir!” Alice replies.

Joan adds her opinion of Alice’s theory…

dougie_monty · December 8, 2003, 7:28pm

“It’s likely they have a legitimate front—well, the DXM has something like that; a visible organization that employs doctors and lawyers and such.”
“Well,” I add, “we might want to find out if the Secretary of State’s office in Sacramento has ‘TH Enterprises’ listed as a California corporation.”
“They might not,” says Mr. Short, replying on the speakerphone. “When Mr. Saylor leased Room 7 to J&J, he gave me a few numbers to call in case of emergency. And the company name doesn’t end with ‘Inc.’”
“Give me their names and numbers, anyway, Mr. Short,” says Joan.
He lists them:
“Area Code 415, 555-4669, Tyler Bullruss, president of TH Enterprises.
“Area Code 213, 555-0230, Ken Ellison, senior vice president.
“Are Code 909, 555-3223, Winston Coulter.”
“That sounds like they’re in San Francisco, Los Angeles, and San Bernardino,” Joan says.
“They are,” says Mr. Short.
*Ken Ellison? * asks Ulrica, telepathically. I remember that name—not too favorably!
“We’ll discuss that later,” says Joan. “Mr. Short, do you have a copy of the lease bearing the owner’s signature and that of the lessee’s agent?”
“Hmm,” says Mr. Short. “Yes, in fact, I have it here in this drawer. “Marcus F. Saylor is listed as the owner signatory and Willard M. Marsh is listed as the lessee’s agent, according to the signatures.”
“Was the lease notarized, Mr. Short?” I ask.
“No, Mr. Britton,” says Mr. Short, “It wasn’t. The Saylors don’t usually require that."
”They really should,” says Alice.
“Marsh did show us a California Driver’s License and a faculty ID for _______ University,” replies Mr. Short.
I’ll bet it was forged, I think to Alice.
“Well, if we can prove that Willard Marsh was at his sister’s place in Lodi when he was supposed to be present at the Old Grange Hall signing the lease with Mr. Saylor, for the J&J Pie Shop, we can convince Mr. Saylor that J&J, or TH Enterprises, has committed a misrepresentation.”
“The date on the lease—in the handwriting of Mr. Marcus Saylor and that, I assume, of Willard Marsh, is November 5, 2003—a Wednesday."
Bingo!” I say. Elwood nods.
“Hey,” he says, “I know Marsh wasn’t at home on Wednesdays from early October to mid-November. He gets bottled water. The truck comes around on Wednesday morning, and I always go by that corner—I take school deposits to the bank—around 11 a.m. Thursday. The bottles were still on Old Man Marsh’s porch on Thursday morning all those weeks, and they were not there on Thursday evening.”
“That should make or break the matter,” says Joan.
Now Leo appears. Joan faces him.
“Leo,” she asks, “can you look in the records of the office of the California Secretary of State in Sacramento and see if ‘TH Enterprises’ is registered there as a corporation, or as a partnership?”
“Sure, Ms. Breastly,” he says. “I’m going to Sacramento anyway today—I heard someone is trying to revive the manufacture of the Nash Metropolitan there.”
“Too bad it isn’t the Kaiser Frazier,” I say. “Jeanette would love that.”
Leo smirks. “OK, Ms. Breastly,” he says. “Well, I’m off to Sacramento. I should be back in a day or so.” He vanishes.
Joan now turns to Eloise.
“Ms. Short,” she says, “Can you have Carl come in here?”
“Sure," says Eloise. She leaves the room for a moment, and returns with Carl, her second son—and Olivia, who comes along.
“Carl,” says Joan, “We’d like to hire you to go out to the Old Grange Hall to check out the J&J Pie Shop.”
Carl smirks. “Yeah, Ms. Breastly, I’ve heard of that place. What would you like to find out?”
“We’d like to know if Ms. Jamieson is running a brothel there,” she says. “And we sense that the place has a connection with our adversary organization, Threshold—they of the black pelican emblem.”
“Sure thing,” he says. “When should I start?”
“Tomorrow at 9 a.m.,” answers Joan. “We’ll work out the details in Mr. Sharp’s office later today. Pose as a walk-in customer.”
“O.K.,” he says. He and Olivia leave the room.
“You don’t think that’s a dangerous assignment?” Joan asks Eloise.
“Maybe it is,” she answers, “But Carl can handle it. He had a hitch with the Marines in Afghanistan. And he carries a Luger and knows how to use it—if he has to.”
We’ve now finished, for the moment, with our efforts to gather evidence against J&J. Carl, of course, will, contact Don Clay or Bob Long if he finds evidence.
Now Alice and I plan our trip tomorrow to Stan Brown’s lot, in quest of Mme. Zoozoo’s urn. But first we question Ulrica.
“Ms. Werdin,” asks Joan, “when did Ken Ellison cross your path?”
“Just before I died,” Ulrica answers. “I passed away in the emergency room at Lodi General.” She reminisces unhappily. “And Ken Ellison was…”

NDP · December 9, 2003, 7:24am

the doctor who was on duty there when I came in."

“So Ken Ellison is a doctor?” Joan inquires.

“Was a doctor,” Ulrica replies. “After what happened with me, I believe he probably doesn’t practice any more.”

“Why?” I ask. “What happened?”

“Well, as I was waiting for what seemed to be an eternity to be treated,” the ghost begins, "Dr. Ellison walks up to me and whispers…

dougie_monty · December 9, 2003, 1:15pm

“…’Your husband Lloyd always got better marks than I did at Punxsutawney State, Ulrica. Well, now the shoe is on the other foot. I vowed I’d get back at him for beating me to the Dean’s List. The ‘medication’ I’m about to administer to you is actually potassium cyanide. I’ll see you in hell!”
“That bastard!” Alice and I say angrily, in unison.

“So what happened after that?” Joan asks.
“Well, I’m not exactly certain how this happened. I know my son Tim—who has always had an interest in physics—had set up an intercom transmitter near my bed. Ellison must not have noticed it. The next thing I knew, except for the opening words ‘Your husband,’ Ellison’s statement had been broadcast on the hospital’s p.a. system and, of course, recorded on a sound CD in the security office. Tim had always been suspicious of Ellison. When Dr. Ellison found out that the hospital had contacted the D. A.’s office just after my death, he fled. One of the first things I did as a ghost was to hunt for him. After a long search, I found him recently in Mississauga, Ontario, Canada—posing as a coroner.”

“Well,” says Joan, “we can’t go after him for murder or manslaughter on our own. But we can act against him as a Threshold operative.”
“You might want to send someone to Punxsutawney State,” says Ulrica. “I understand he has contacts there.”

“All right,” replies Joan. “I’ll see whom we can send there from DXM’s Pittsburgh office.”
We pause.
“Well, that’s about all we can do about this now,” says Joan. “As for the ruby and Crisdel’s book of incantations, they’re ensconced in Mr. Galloway’s safe and Artie and Andrew and others maintain a continuous watch around it.”

“So what will happen to the gem and the book?” Alice asks.
“Parker will be here shortly to examine the book and compare it with the others you have gathered, including the ‘Herring Recipes’ book and the ‘Sequel’ volume you found in the Sharps’ mansion, ______. Oh, Alice, I understand you said you have the ‘Sequels’ volume—decoded—on a Zip disk.”

“Yes, I do, Ms. Breastly,” says Alice. “And I made a few duplicates.” Alice takes a large Ziploc bag from her purse, with several Zip disks in it. She removes one and hands it to Joan. Its label reads, “Sequel book decoded.”
“As for the ruby, that belongs to the Saylors, unless we can show otherwise,” Joan adds.

“Well, that’s that,” she continues. “Your mission at the Old Grange Hall is essentially completed.” She hands Alice and me each another check for $1000. We thank her.
“All right,” says Alice. “Tomorrow we go out to Stan Brown’s empty lot on Siddely Street to look for Zuzinda Rimpau’s book of incantations, which is inside a stone urn buried on the lot.”

“We’ll want Luigi Luglio to help us with this one,” I add.
“Did someone call me?” asks the ghostly Luigi. *“Ah, buona sera, Signora Breastly.”

“Buona sera, Signore Luglio,”* says Joan. “Well, Luigi, what have you to report about Mr. Brown’s lot?”
He shrugs. “For maybe twenty feet down, Signora, there’s nothing on the lot except dirt and ancient Siddely poop—and the stone urn, with a lid sealed with ordinary sealing wax. I think there was never anything growing for forty feet in any direction, around the outhouse.”
“I’m not surprised,” I say.

“In any case,” continues Luigi, “the rain we had a few days ago made the ground nice and soft—not that Signore Brown would mind that much.”
We pause. Joan says, “Eloise, I’d like to ask you to bring Stan and Louise in here now.”

Eloise goes and gets the Browns. Stan is dressed much like a lumberjack, and he wears a full beard. Louise is in her usual outfit of striped cardigan, faded jeans, black flats, and glasses with squarish lenses. They walk in, arm-in-arm. Stan sits in a big oak chair and Louise sits on his lap.
“Well,” says Louise, “we’re ready to go out to Stan’s lot on Siddely. With Joe Bradley and ______ along to dig in the soft ground we can dig the urn out as long as Luigi tells us where it’s buried.”

“No problem,” says Signore Luglio.
“One last thing,” Joan adds. “When Carl Sharp goes to Room 7 in the Grange Hall building he may not necessarily see into the closets Ms. Jamieson uses. But given Threshold’s connection, Ulrica, we’d still like to know what you saw in the closets.”

“Well,” Ms. Werdin says, “I didn’t go in there under the best of circumstances; only part of the time, when the closets were opened for Ms. Jamieson and her ‘employees’ to unpack or repack stuff in there and I was observing invisibly, could I really see what the stuff was. Of course, most of the time the closets are closed and even a ghost doesn’t see things well in the dark. But I will tell you about what all I did see…”

NDP · December 10, 2003, 7:38am

Habitrail cages, tubes, and wheels for hamsters or some other type of rodent."

“Did you see any inside?” I ask.

“No, I didn’t,” Ms. Werdin answers. “They were all empty.”

“Did you see anything else?”

"Well, I noticed another closet seemed to have what looked like a small Murphy Bed inside. I also saw…

dougie_monty · December 10, 2003, 2:00pm

“…about a dozen heavy-duty bedrolls and wooden tables; some shallow bowls; and packages of towels, makeup, perfume, and sexy underwear.”
“Well, that sounds like enough evidence that the place is a brothel,” says Alice.

“I think it weird that they would have hamster equipment, or equipment for some other kind of rodent, as well,” I comment.
Alice holds me in a close embrace. “Don’t you remember Guildford and Cruz?” she asks.

“Oh yes—the animal control people!” I say.
“Well, it would help if we could establish a connection between them and the J&J Pie Shop,” says Joan.

“When Carl makes his first report, we’ll attempt to do that,” says Eloise. “Oh—and what he finds out may be enough for us to tell Don Clay, so the cops will have probable cause to get a search warrant issued.”
“One thing I’m curious about, Ulrica,” I say. “It’s that Murphy Bed—or the In-a-Door, as the Murphys themselves call it.”

“Yes,” says Ms. Werdin. “That looked like a ‘fold-out sickbed,’ if that makes sense.”
“That suggests someone under Ms. Jamieson’s aegis—or Janna herself—is an invalid,” says Joan.

“Well, we can ask Carl, or even Mr. Short, about that,” says Alice. “It’s a little strange, though, for an invalid to go in and out like that.”
Now Parker returns; he and George Galloway come into the room. Obviously, Mr. Galloway opened the safe for him; Parker carries the ruby and Crisdel’s book in plastic bags.

“I’ll take the ruby to Sol Feldman to have it examined and appraised,” Parker says. “And we’ll examine, and duplicate, Crisdel’s book of incantations.”
“Do you have any information that anyone other than the Saylors might own the ruby?” I ask.

“No,” he answers. “Unless we get information to the contrary, I’ll return it to the Saylors or Mr. Short. I’ll get an appraisal from Feldman, with a report on any inscriptions or distinctive features that the ruby may have. After that, most likely I’ll just take the gem, and the documents, directly to Mr. Short.”
“Well, that’s that,” says Alice. “We’re supposed to go out to Mr. Brown’s lot tomorrow, to dig up a stone urn containing Madame Zoozoo’s book of incantations.”

“Is that the one Rimpau’s mother used against Foraker and Donoho?” Parker asks.
“Yes,” says Alice. Parker nods.

“James,” says Ms. Breastly, “Alice gave me a Zip disk with the decoded text of the Sequel book.” She shows Parker the disk.
“Excellent!” he says. He high-fives Alice and me. He takes a billfold out of his coat and hands Alice $2000 in cash.

“Thank you, sir!” exclaims Alice with delight. I kiss her.
“I had heard of Beauregard Pettibone,” says Parker. “We already have information to connect him with the origins of Threshold.”

“Beauregard Pettibone?” asks Ulrica.
Eloise says, “He was the carpenter who left that book in our house—and died without telling us where it was. He was a blatant racist, and Fred detested him.”

“Well,” says Parker, “We’ve slowly circumscribed Threshold, Lemoyne, and Sikes-Potter’s minions with evidence, and this should be the coup de grâce.”
Now we all take a break from our assignments. We return to the seats. Samantha, Eddie Sharp, April Blonda, and Billy Bradley serve us Polish sausage dogs (and tofu, to the vegans) and apple juice as we sit down.

The Cigar Band—I act as drummer—plays pop stuff; Jane Bradley gets up to play C&W, in her garish Tammy Wynette outfit. Alice joins in, at the piano.
Now Carl Sharp—with Olivia clinging to him, as usual—comes in. He looks smug; he carries a thick notebook and a portfolio which, I assume from what I perceive with my ESP, contains pictures he took in Room 7, on the sly.

He stops to show his mother, Eloise, as well as Ms. Breastly, what evidence he gathered. Alice and I, along with Fred and Mr. Galloway, approach. Buster trots over and sits on Eloise’s lap. Ulrica hovers overhead. Carl gives us his first report.

dougie_monty · December 10, 2003, 2:00pm