AT THE CAFE
(Written for English class, circa 1990.  As one of the first stories I actually finished, it will always have a speacial place in my heart!)

THE PLEASURE OF REFUSING
(Written circa 1993, just for the fun of it!)

She had seen him many times before, as she walked her dog around the apartment complex.  He came mainly on Sundays, to accompany his parents to church.  Sometimes he would arrive on Saturday evenings and stay the night.

He never spoke to her, except an occasional “Hello” as they passed on the walk.  He would shy away from the prying beagle nose of her dog Argyle, although she knew that he did not have an aversion to dogs – she sometimes saw him walking his parents’ boxer, which, in her opinion, was much nosier than little Argyle.  He was also friendly with the dogs of many other neighbors.  So it must be that he disliked her dog in particular – or perhaps it was just her.

Of course, why should he like her?  In all honesty, as she stood before the mirror she knew that there was nothing much of interest staring back at her.  And of course he never took the time to find out what might be behind the face.  Men like that were all too common.

Sill, it hurt.  And still, she liked him.

Of course, why shouldn’t she like him?  His face was open and friendly (at least when he was around others), and he had a laugh that warmed the heart.  She wondered if he would laugh at her jokes.

And that was why she almost ignored him that night in the rain.  It was a Saturday, and so it wasn't at all unusual to see him there, as she took Argyle on the last walk of the day.  What was strange was that he seemed to be arguing with the driver of a taxi which was stopped in front of the building.  She had never heard him argue.

At first she avoided the impulse to linger and listen, although she did hear enough to realize that he was arguing about the fare the driver had charged. But by the time she had circled the block he was still there, still searching his pockets frantically, still arguing.

And then it all became clear.  A wallet lay on the ground, almost under the taxi.  It must have fallen out of his pocket when he stepped out of the cab, and now he couldn’t find it.  Without a word she stopped beside him, bent down and picked it up.  As she straightened up and handed it to him, she met his eyes through rain-spotted glasses.  It was the first time he had ever really looked at her, she realized.  And a second later she realized something else, as well: he was drunk.

Argyle stared up at her reproachfully as he shivered in the downpour.  Water from the man’s nose dripped into the wallet as he opened it to remove some bills.  Why was she still standing there?

As the cabbie took the money, he looked at her and said, “Lady, you’d better get your friend to bed.  He’s completely smashed.”

The cabbie seemed to know what he was talking about, she reflected, watching the taillights disappear into the night.  Then she turned to her new charge.  What did one do with a drunken man?

He started to sway, and instinctively she put out her arms to steady him.  Then she sighed.  All right.  If she had to do it, she had to do it.

She helped him into the building and into the elevator.  He leaned against the wall and she was tempted to leave him there – just walk out and let him wake up the next morning stretched out on the elevator floor.

Instead, they made a brief stop in her own apartment, so she could drop off Argyle and rid herself of her soaking raincoat.

They made it up to his parents’ apartment without incident.  She knocked and got no answer.  They must be in bed already. 

“I’ll need your keys,” she said, speaking for the first time.

He tried to reach into his coat to get them, but he seemed to have forgotten exactly how a hand fit into a pocket.  Finally, she became impatient and did it for him – first the left coat pocket, then the right.  No keys.

No keys?

Wait – the pants.  She propped him up against the wall, opened his coat, and got his keys from his pants pocket. 

As the door swung open, the boxer came darting out of the darkness, charging straight for them.  She almost dropped her charge and ran, but the dog stopped at the last minute, sniffing the air, then wagged his tail.

All right.

She took a deep breath, then guided her charge into the apartment.  The kitchen light was on, and she could see the dining and living rooms.

“Couch,” he mumbled, and she took him over to it, gently helping him to sit down.  She straightened up and gazed down at him, slumped there in his soaking wet clothes.

No, she couldn’t leave him like this.

She pulled him back on his feet and, holding him with one hand so he wouldn’t fall over, stripped off his raincoat and suit jacket.  She removed his tie.  Then she tossed them over a chair and examined the rest of him.  The bottoms of his trousers were wet.  Well, that was too bad.  She was not talking off his pants.

She gave him a little push on the chest and let him fall back onto the couch.  Then she knelt and removed his shoes and socks.  Immediately, he swung his legs up onto the couch and lay down.  She found an afghan on the back of a chair and covered him with it.

She left his keys on the chair and got back to her own apartment as fast as she could.

The next day was bright and clear, with a high, arching blue sky.  It was late in the morning when she saw him, coming home from church with his parents.  Argyle tugged impatiently on his leash and she began to oblige, walking faster.  But then she saw that the parents were going inside, and the son was not.  He was looking at her.

The first then she noticed when they came face to face was that his eyes weren’t even red.  He looked as if he had never taken a drink in his life.

He smiled his open, friendly smile.  His eyes were as blue as the sky.  “I owe you a thanks,” he said.  “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t helped me out last night.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He smiled again.  “It was beyond the duties of a neighbor, and I really appreciate it.”

She smiled back but did not reply.

Discomfort passed briefly – oh so briefly – over his face, then the smile reappeared as he thought of something that would make everything right.  “I thought that maybe, if you don’t mind, we could have dinner sometime.”

She didn’t answer right away, and he looked at her strangely, as if she looked different.  Well, that was fine.  She felt different.

“No,” polite but firm, “but thank you all the same.”

He was surprised.  “Are you sure?  I mean – “

“Yes, I’m quite sure.”

He walked away, and she watched him.  He was shaking his head.

Then she turned and started off in the other direction.  She felt good.  Admittedly, there had been few times in her life when she had had the pleasure of accepting an invitation from someone so good looking.  But never before had she had the pleasure of refusing.

###

There was a body on the floor.

Casey blinked and looked around the empty coffee shop, then blinked again and looked back down.  No, she hadn’t imagined it. 

There was a body.  On the floor.  Of the coffee shop.

God, this morning was going all wrong.

She reached for the phone on the wall, and without looking her fingers found the buttons: 9-1-1.  Her voice was calm, but her hand shook a little as she gave the officer the pertinent information.  He asked her to stay on the line until the police arrived at the scene, but she ignored that request and hung up.

A thought hit her at the same instant the receiver hit the cradle.  Fingerprints.  She shouldn’t have touched the phone, should she?  The shop was a crime scene now, and at a crime scene you weren’t supposed to touch anything.  Anybody who watched as much Law & Order as she did should have known better.

That morning her alarm hadn’t gone off, and she had woken up abruptly a mere ten minutes before she had to leave the house.  The worst part of that was that she had been dreaming that she was already awake, and that she had even gotten up early and made herself blueberry pancakes.  She could still taste them as she stood under the hot shower, washing the sleep out of her eyes.

The taste had been so compelling that she decided she had to find a way to make her dream a reality.  She only lived five minutes from the shop.  She would dash over, open up and take care of the the five a.m. crowd.  Rose would arrive at six to help out.  When things finally slowed down, Casey would steal away, drive home and have those pancakes.  She would even make an extra batch to bribe Rose with, if necessary.

But no such luck.  If only she had bought that new alarm clock last week, the way she planned.  The guy on the floor would still be dead, of course, but at least she would have had those blueberry pancakes.

Okay, that was harsh.  And selfish.  She shouldn’t be thinking of food at a time like this.  She should be waiting outside for the police, with an appropriately subdued air of sadness at the loss of human life. 

Of course, considering who the guy on the floor was, there weren’t going to be a lot of tears shed over the loss of this particular life.  But still….

The cowbell that hung over the front door clanged.  Casey looked up and felt relief flooding through her at the sight of the navy blue police uniform.

“Hi Jeff,” she said, as if it were a day like any other. 

“Hey, Casey,” Jeff said.  “What’ve we got here?”

She gestured towards the thing on the floor.  “It’s Hindeman.”

“Frank Hindeman?”  Jeff took a few steps to the left so he could get a better view.  He let out a low whistle.  “We’ll have to put the whole county on the list of suspects.”

He touched the two-way radio that was clipped to his coat, and spoke a few official-sounding words.  Casey didn’t bother to try to understand them.

“We’ll have a few more cars here in a minute, and the Coroner’s office is sending a wagon.”  He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face.  “You with me, Casey Walker?”

Casey blinked.  No, to be honest she wasn’t anywhere near with him.

“Yes,” she said.

“The only business you’ll be getting in here today is us cops,” he said.  “So I hope you laid in a goodly supply of donuts.  Do I smell fresh coffee?”

Casey nodded.  “I turned on the machine first thing when I came in, just like always,” she said. 

“Where is it?”

She pointed.

“Okay,” he said.  “Since you already touched it I’m making an official decision that you should keep it running.  And have a cup yourself, why don’t you.  You look a bit green around the gills.”

She took Jeff’s advice and had a cup of coffee and a muffin.  Blueberry.  Then she sat at the corner table and watched as the shop filled with people. 

Cops.  They looked at everything.  Around everything.  Under everything.  They asked her questions.  What time did you get here?  What time did you leave yesterday?  Did you notice anything strange when you arrived this morning?

Strange?  Why yes, she wanted to say.  It was the damndest thing.  I walked in and there was a dead person on the floor.

At six o’clock on the dot, the bell rang and Rose walked in.  Just like with Jeff, Casey felt an almost ridiculous sense of relief at seeing her.  Rose, with her hand knitted sweaters and corduroy pants and soft gray hair, was the kind of person you wanted with you at a time like this.  She was the kind of person who could just make everything all right.

“One of the officers outside told me what happened,” Rose said.  “How awful.  You found him?”

Casey nodded.

“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Rose said.  “That must have been terrible for you.  Can I do anything?”

“No, thank you,” Casey said.  She took Rose’s hand.  “I’m just awfully glad you’re here.”

They watched as the body was carted out.  Jeff disconnected himself from a cluster of uniforms and crossed the room to sit down with them.  “Whew!  What a mess,” he said. 

“How was he killed?”  Rose asked.

“Screwdriver to the heart,” Jeff said.  “Probably a quick death, not that he deserved it that way.”

“Do they know what happened?”  Casey asked.

“Doesn’t look premeditated.  They think he got in an argument with somebody and the killer just grabbed the first thing he could.”  He looked at Casey.  “You keep a screwdriver under the counter, by any chance?”

She nodded absently.  “It’s for that cash register.  Darn thing’s always jamming up.  But Jeff, why do you think Frank was here, of all places?”

“Well hell, Casey, everybody in town knows you close at two in the p.m.  And most folks probably know that the lock on your back door is acting up.  And everybody knows that you and Hindeman had words the other day.” 

He looked at her.  Suddenly his gaze was sharp, penetrating and very official.  “Didn’t you?”

Casey looked back with a coolness that she did not feel.  “If you want to have that discussion,” she said, “you’ll have to wait until my attorney gets here.”

Jeff looked hurt.  “I was just making conversation,” he said.  “No need to get testy.”

As he walked away, Casey let out a deep breath.  “Good thing I moved here from the city,” she said, “to get away from all the violence.”

Rose patted her hand.  “Don’t worry about him.  He’d never arrest you without proper evidence.”

It was nearly noon when the last officer left.  Casey locked the front door with a feeling of relief.  At least that was over. 

She turned to find Rose staring at the bloodstain on the floor.

“Not very appetizing, is it?”  Casey said.  “I doubt the customers will like it much.”

“There are people who specialize in cleaning this sort of thing,” Rose answered briskly.  “I’ll make some calls this afternoon.”

Casey started collecting the cups and coffee stirrers that littered the tables.  “Hindemen really was a bastard, wasn’t he?”

“He was the only truly evil person that I ever met,” Rose said.  “Evil to his very soul.  We grew up together, did you know that?”

“I had no idea.”

“We were inseparable as children.  When we were only seven years old he told me he had fallen in love with me, and that he wanted me to marry him and come live at his house.  Of course I said no, that I would never leave my mother and father.  So do you know what he did?  He told his mother that my father had – well, touched him.  Inappropriately.”  Rose gave a delicate cough.

“It wasn’t true, of course, but that didn’t matter.  Rumors spread, and the stress of it gave my father a heart attack and he died.  My mother followed a year later.”

Casey couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  “Rose, did you – “

“For years I prayed for the strength to forgive him, even as I watched him destroy one life after another.  And then, last week when I saw how he spoke to you, how he threatened to tell everyone about what happened to you before you moved here, I knew that God didn’t want me to forgive him.  God wanted me to send him to hell, where he belongs.  And so I did.  It was really very easy.  And…sweet.”

She smiled with satisfaction.  “You know, dear, neither of us has eaten all day.  You must be famished.  Why don’t you come home with me and I’ll fix you something to eat.  It’s the strangest thing, but I have a terrible craving for blueberry pancakes.”

###

ACCIDENTAL DEATH
(Written circa 2008, also for the mystery contest.)

Gary had figured out a way to kill his wife and not get caught.

Funny thing was, he had known for years that he would probably end up killing her, but when he found out she was having an affair he knew the time had finally come.

The way he figured it, when your wife’s cheating on you there’s only three things you can do: divorce her, cheat on her in revenge, or kill her.  Well, he couldn’t afford to divorce her.  He was already cheating on her and it didn’t make him feel any better.  So that left only one option.

The problem with killing people was that it was almost impossible not to get caught – especially these days.  That forensics stuff was tough to beat.  And of course, the only successful murders were the ones you never heard about. 

So Gary knew he would have to be very, very smart about this.  Fortunately, smarts had never been a problem for him. 

Of course, he had suspected all along that Tina was cheating on him.  Fidelity had never played a big part in their marriage.  But suspecting your wife is cheating on you and finding three empty condom wrappers in her purse while you’re looking for cigarettes are two very different things.  Three, for God's sake.

He knew right away who the guy was: Mike, that mechanic from their garage.  He should have guessed sooner – Tina had been “having her oil changed” with an alarming frequency. 

At first Gary had wanted to do something obvious like disabling the brakes on Tina’s car.  But his instinct for self-preservation had overridden his desire for ironic punishment, so the whole “she who lives by the car shall die by the car” concept was out.

There were so many good ways to kill someone, that was the really frustrating part.  Shooting, stabbing, bludgeoning, poisoning – all tried and true methods of eliminating an undesirable presence on earth.  The temptation to just shoot her in the back of the head while she was sitting in front of that vanity mirror of hers was almost too much to resist.

But there again he stopped himself.  He wanted Tina dead, but no way was he going to spend the rest of his natural life in prison. 

So he let time go by – he put murder on the back burner, so to speak.  After all, it wasn’t like he was on a deadline, or anything.  He waited, and he watched, and he thought about it.  In his imagination he killed Tina a dozen different times in a dozen different ways, which was actually kind of fun.  The long, steep road behind the house with the sharp precipice on the side usually played some part in his daydreams.  But tempting as these visions were, they were far too impractical, too easy for the police to figure out.  He had to come up with something smarter.

And finally, one day he did. 

Well, to be fair, Tina practically came up with the idea for him.  She had been whining at him for ages to get a waterbed.  Said it would be good for her back.  Gary had always resisted the idea. 

“Oh sure,” he’d say.  “Then I’ll get a van with a painting of some chick riding a leopard.  Maybe she’ll have flashing red light bulbs for nipples.  How does that sound?”

She always ignored his sarcasm – or maybe she was just too stupid to understand it.  Either way, she kept asking and he kept saying no. 

And then, about two months after Gary had found those condom wrappers in her purse, the two of them were out shopping for a new living room sofa.  In the showroom, Tina dropped her purse.  She reached down to get it, and couldn’t get back up again.  She had really thrown out her back. 

The pain was obviously so excruciating that Gary felt sorry enough for her to buy her that waterbed.  What the heck, they were in the furniture store already, weren’t they?  Tina took a couple tranquilizers and settled into the car to wait while Gary finalized the details.

The idea came to him as the salesman was showing him how the thing worked.  The bed was filled with warm water.  It stayed warm because the bed was plugged in to the wall.  At that moment, it was as if the salesman had plugged in Gary’s brain, and two red nipple light bulbs started flashing in his head.

The idea was good.  He rolled it around like wine on his tongue.  Yes, it was very, very good.  It would bear further thinking, of course.  He would have to examine it and look for holes, make sure that the D.A. couldn’t get enough on him to send him away.  But he had a feeling that this idea was the one.

He signed the receipt with a flourish.  He felt almost euphoric.  In the car, he magnanimously offered to call Tina’s doctor to get her a prescription for painkillers.  She thanked him but said she’d done it already, and that the prescription would be delivered later this afternoon.

That night, he lay on his back in bed while Tina breathed heavily in a drugged sleep beside him.  His plan reeled out before him, like a movie in the darkness. 

Today was Saturday.  The bed would be delivered on Monday morning.  The delivery guys would take down the old bed and set up the new.  It would take a few hours to heat up, of course, but it should be ready by the time Tina went to bed.

Gary would graciously offer to sleep in the guest room, so that she could have the whole bed to herself for her recuperation.  He would turn on her bedside radio, tune it to the classical station and turn the volume so that it played softly.  She found this very soothing when she was in pain.

After he kissed her good night, she would take a couple of the painkillers, and within a half hour she would be nearly unconscious.  With those knock-out drops she could sleep through anything. 

Before he turned in for the night, he would turn on the hall light outside the bedroom.  When he flipped the switch a fuse would blow, taking with it the hall light, the bedside radio, and, of course, the waterbed heater.

From where he was standing it would appear the hallway bulb had blown out.  He would resolve to replace it tomorrow.  Then he would go to bed.  And in the other room, the water in the waterbed would slowly start to cool, taking Tina’s body temperature down with it.  She wouldn’t wake up.  Ever. 

Tuesday morning he would get up, shower, and get dressed.  He would peek in on her, assume she was sound asleep, and close the door softly, not wanting to wake her.

He would get in his car and drive to work.  Sometime around two o’clock, the cleaning woman would arrive and make a gruesome discovery.

He couldn’t be sure exactly what time Tina would die, but the point was that she would be dead.  When the police interviewed him they would tell him about the blown fuse.  He would appear to put the pieces together and break down, crying "Oh my God, I killed my wife!"

Truer words could not have been spoken.

Gary grinned into the darkness.  He had it.  He really had it.

Well, there was no way he was going to sleep tonight.  He was just too excited.  He got up and dressed silently.  He would go out for a quick drink.  Maybe tomorrow morning he would bring Tina breakfast in bed.  Seemed like a nice thing to do.

The garage door opened in front of him, revealing a desert sky full of stars.  The moon shone brightly, almost benevolently.  This time next week, he’d be a free man.  He couldn’t believe his luck.  He pulled out of the driveway and started down the hill. 

No, he corrected himself.  It wasn’t luck.  It was smarts.  He’d always had them.

The car picked up speed.  He put his foot on the brake, but nothing happened.  He tried again, and still nothing.  He reached for the emergency brake. 

But he was too late.

In the bushes by the side of the road, two people huddled in the shadows, watching the flames rise against the night sky. 

“I told you it would work,” Mike said.

Tina sighed.  “I know, I know.  I just feel guilty.  He was so nice today when he thought I’d hurt myself…buying that bed and all.”

Mike rubbed her shoulder.  “Look, the man was a pig.  He thought you were unconscious from pain pills and he was driving out to see his mistress.”

She sighed again.  “You’re right.  But…are you sure the police won’t suspect us?”

“Trust me.  I know how to fix cars.”  He looked down at the wreck burning in the valley. 

“They’ll say it was an accidental death.”

###

Back to top.

THE BELL TOWER MAN
(Written circa 2008, also for the mystery contest.  Re-reading it now, it seems like maybe I was overindulging my love of "The Legend of Sleep Hollow," but it still makes me smile!)

Mary Stoffel was halfway to school when she realized the school bell hadn't rung.  It was so strange that she stopped and stood right still, listening with both ears. 

She heard the wind rustling through the tree leaves above her head…the brook chuckling along to her right…and the crunch of a tiny foot on a tiny twig behind her.

She whirled around, hands on hips.  "Adeline Stoffel, go home this instant!"

There was nothing in front of her but the trees, and the wind and the brook were all that answered.

"Da said you're not to be following me to school anymore!  Now get along home!"

Mary waited the length of three heartbeats, then turned and continued up the path.

As expected, the sound of tiny pounding feet rushed up behind her and short, fat arms grabbed her around the waist.  Mary fell to the ground, laughing.  She tickled her sister until they were both breathless with giggling. 

Finally Mary stood up and pulled Adeline along with her.  She picked leaves out of her sister's hair with a fury. 

"You're a naughty one at that, little sister!  What do you think Ma and Da will do when they see you've run off?  Worry themselves to death, most likely."

She took Adeline's chin in her hand and looked down at her.  "Now go home, and let me get on my way to school!"

"But the bell hasn't rung!"  Adeline said.  Her blue eyes were wide with happiness.  "So it must be Saturday, and that means no school!"

"It's not Saturday, it's Thursday.  And Miss Hobbes is late, that's all."  Mary sighed, then grabbed Adeline's hand and continued up the path towards the schoolhouse.

Adeline, floating on winged happiness at being taken along, felt brave enough to say, "Maybe she ran away, and you'll never have to go to school again!"

"Or maybe she climbed a tree and married a monkey!"  Mary said.

"Maybe she was taken by the Bell Tower Man!"

Mary tripped, then recovered her balance and went on as if she had never missed a step.  "There is no Bell Tower Man," she said firmly.  "You're too big of a girl to believe in stories like that."

"It's not a story!"  Adeline protested earnestly.  "It's a real live ghost!  Christian Aart saw it.  He told me so himself."

"Christian Aart likes the sound of his own voice better than he likes the truth, and you'd be wise to remember it!"

They came out of the woods into the clearing near the schoolhouse.  The doors were closed, the curtains inside were drawn.  A few boys were playing leapfrog on the grass.
"Hi! Mary!"  Zachariah waved.  "Miss Hobbes isn't here!"

"We didn't hear the bell ring!"  Adeline chirped importantly.

"That's because there was no one here to ring it," said Christian.  "Miss Hobbes…has disappeared."

Mary looked at him crossly.  Christian was the only boy in school who was taller than she, and he thought that made him superior to her.

"She's just late," said Mary.

"She's never late!"  Zachariah and Alberick cried together.

"Something's happened," said Christian knowingly.  "Has anyone noticed anything odd going on lately?"

"Barent the Gatekeeper," said Alberick.  "I think he's up to something."

"What makes you say so?"  Mary asked curiously.

"His hair is red.  And his face is always as red as his hair."

"What nonsense!"

Christian scoffed at her.  "If you're so smart, why don't you tell us where Miss Hobbs is?"

Before Mary could think what to say, Adeline piped up with confidence.  "We think it was the Bell Tower Man!"

"Of course!" said Christian.  "It's the only thing that makes sense!"  He jumped up on a tree stump and raised his arms.  "We must go at once to the Bell Tower and rescue our poor teacher!  Who's with me?"

"I am!" said Alberick.

"And me!" cried Zachariah.

Mary opened her mouth to protest when Adeline cried out enthusiastically, "Us too!"

Then she looked at her big sister.  "Right?" she asked hopefully.

Mary sighed.

The bell tower was taller than Mary had remembered.  The stairs inside curved upwards into darkness.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mary asked her sister.

"Um…uh-huh."  Adeline said.

"All right," Mary said. 

She stepped inside and started climbing, with Adeline close on her heels.  Christian, eager for this adventure as he had been, did not protest when Mary took the lead. 

"I'll bring up the rear," he said.  "So nothing sneaks up on us."

They giggled and shuffled their way up the stairs until Mary's hand, outstretched in the dark, touched the trapdoor to the bell loft.  Her heart beat faster.

She looked down, trying to see her sister.  Adeline's eyes glowed through the darkness, alight with fear and excitement.

Christian tapped Mary's leg.  She kicked at him out of habit.  "Well, go on!" he said. 

Right.  Mary squared her shoulders and reached upward.  She grasped the handle firmly and pushed.

Up it swung, lighter than she had expected and almost completely silent.  She raised her head and peered around, blinking.  Light spilled into the center of the loft from the open archways on each side, but puddles of pitch dark filled the corners in between.   

A tug on her skirt, and Christian's imperious voice floated up from below.  "What do you see?" he whispered loudly.

"There's nothing up here," Mary whispered back.  "We should go."

She started to close the trap, but murmured cries of protest stopped her. 

"Hold on, hold on!"  That was Zachariah.

"We want to see!"  That was Alberick.

"Why should we believe you?"  And that, of course, was Christian. 

"Fine."  Mary pushed the trap back impatiently and climbed through.  "See for yourselves."

She knelt by the opening, and flicked each boy in the head as he came through.  Alberick was the only one who protested.  "What's that for?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head.  "I haven't done anything to you!"  He considered for a moment.  "Today."

"One on account, then," Mary said.  She helped Adeline climb through, and the five of them stood close together. 

The wind whistled through with a purpose, as if it had things to do and no time to waste.  Mary rubbed her arms.

"Cold?"  asked Zachariah.

"Of course she's cold!" said Christian.  "The Bell Tower Man strikes chills into whoever is in his presence."

"But we're not in his presence," said Alberick.  "And Mary's the only one who's cold."

"That means that the Bell Man has chosen the lovely Mary for his next victim!  He'll probably carry her off this very night!"

Mary tried to retort but suddenly her tongue was clumsy as a drunken ox.  She was flustered by Christian's use of the word "lovely."  The best she could get out was a contemptuous "Hmph!"

Christian grinned wickedly at her.  "Mark the way she stands, struck dumb by the presence of evil from beyond the grave!"  His eyes widened dramatically.  "And what's that, over there in that corner?" 

His unwilling audience jumped and turned as one body to see where he pointed.  Did that corner seem darker than the others?  Mary squinted.  Had Christian really seen something, or was he just putting on?

No, wait…a rustling sound, and the shadows seemed to gather themselves, whispering together.  The darkness rose up and up…taking form…taking the shape of – Mary's heart skipped a beat – a man!

The children cried out.  Christian yelped in terror and jumped backwards, throwing himself off balance as he teetered near the arched opening.  Mary grabbed his hand, steadied him.  Then she turned and faced the shadowy shape. 

As it came forward, she pushed Adeline behind her and lifted her chin in defiance.  Adeline clung to her skirt and peered around her waist.

Closer yet, and closer….

"What's the meaning of this?  Children, what are you doing here?"

Miss Hobbes!  But it was Miss Hobbes as they had never seen her.  Hair undone.  Shoes off.  Dress –

"Well, bless me," Christian said.

Mary covered Adeline's eyes.

A man blustered forward, hopping as he tried to fasten his boot.  His face was as red as his hair.  Barent the Gatekeeper.

"What is it?  I want to see!"  Adeline pushed Mary's hand away from her eyes.  "Oh!"

"Good heavens, we – er – I must have fallen asleep," said Miss Hobbes.  She drew herself up and spoke as if she were standing in the schoolhouse, ruler in hand.  "Children, you should be at your desks right now!  Get away with you, and I want to hear you reciting your numbers when I mount – er – climb those steps to the schoolhouse!"

The children slowly descended the steps and came out into the sunshine, blinking.  Mary couldn't bring herself to look at Christian, although she knew his cheeks must be as red as hers.

Adeline jumped up and down, tugging on her hand.

"What is it?" Mary asked tiredly.

"I was right!  It was him!" Adeline crowed triumphantly.  "Miss Hobbes was taken by the Bell Tower Man!"

###

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