by M. E. Eadie
***
Their next step, according to Rhea, was an act of desperation: visit Hugh Dundas and convince him to either sabotage his own campaign or withdraw from the race.
They had asked Maestro if they could cut class and, surprisingly, he’d agreed, but Melissa had to stay behind. The angel apprenticeship was turning out to be rather rigorous. Frederick had explained it well: “Clowns can make mistakes, and people often find it funny, but somebody who works providing security can’t allow any mistakes. If they do, somebody may be badly injured, or die, or worse.” Colin didn’t ask what “worse” entailed, but suspected it had something to do with Zuhayer Horwood and the Nixes.
They were halfway across the bridge when Spike, wistfully leaning over the side, spotted the flicker of a multicolored dress against the verdant green of the bush before it disappeared beyond the far bend of the little river just across from Pansy Patch.
“It’s her, Silverberry! She’s down there! I just saw her!”
Colin considered Spike’s reaction and felt a little bit jealous. He wished it had been him who had seen her. He had an idea. Closing his eyes he focused on Sergeant Peary, and sure enough the soldier in blood-stained fatigues ‘POPPED’ out of the air in front of them.
“It’s about time! I was wondering if you lot had forgotten about me?” he said, a bit of self-pity in his voice.
“Sorry,” apologized Colin, “but we’ve been kind’ve busy. I’ve got a question for you.”
“Shoot,” growled Sergeant Peary tapping the ashes from his perpetually burning cigar stub over the side of the bridge, “figuratively, of course.”
“Well, remember Halloween?”
Sergeant Peary gave a big grin. “How could I forget? That was some party!”
“You seemed to get along well with Silverberry. Why was that?”
“What, you don’t think I could have an attractive date?” He turned to Rhea. “I’m not that bad am I?”
“No, you’re not that bad,” said Rhea shyly.
“Who exactly is Silverberry?” pursued Colin.
He shrugged evasively. “She’s a ghost, caught between here and there, but because she died around here, she’s quite a bit more substantial than I am.”
“Can you find her?”
“Of course, I can find her!” he said in an offended voice. “She hangs out just around the bend, across from Pansy Patch. She has a nice little camp there, and she brews a nice cup of imaginary herbal tea. She’s a bit esoteric, if you know what I mean.”
“Can you take Spike to her?” Colin had wanted to say “me” but, instead, the name Spike had come out of his mouth, and by the eager look on Spike’s face, he couldn’t take it back.
Sergeant Peary gave them a wary glance. “Revealing the presence of another ghost to the living is against Union rules, you know. It could get me into some serious trouble. You saw those guys at the party. They don’t fool around. If I do this, all of you, will owe me big time.”
“I’ll do anything you say,” cut in Spike, anxious to get the soldier to commit.
“You know about The Circus of the Moon,” asked Rhea, “about what they’re planning?”
“Of course I know. Maestro has told me everything. Actually, I have a few bones to pick with the Old Man, and wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see him put in his place. Maestro has even agreed to work me into the plot, although he didn’t really have to. When those Nixes appear, I’ll be there, ready to rumble.” A big bazooka, strapped to his shoulder, suddenly materialized and then disappeared.
“Well, will you do it? Will you help Spike find Silverberry?” asked Colin.
Sergeant Peary hesitated but when he saw Spike’s pitiful face, he gave a disgruntled grunt and gave in. “Fine, all right, but you do it my way. First, you don’t ask me any more questions about WHO she is. Second, if she doesn’t want to see you, you leave her alone. Third, if those ghouls with the stovepipe hats come looking for me, you three are going to bale me out. Deal?”
“Bale you out, how?” asked Colin.
“I don’t know. That’s up to you. Is it a deal, or not?” Sergeant Peary had crossed his arms. Everything about him was square: shoulders, arms, and chin. They knew he wasn’t going to budge.
“Deal,” said Spike quickly, sealing it by spitting in his hand and shaking the burly soldier’s hand.
“All right, let’s lock and load,” said Sergeant Peary dashing off down the bridge and over the side, the ghost having gone totally commando.
Spike hesitated before following. “Sorry, about this. I just have some questions to ask her.”
Colin nodded, secretly wanting to go with him. “Sure, go on, we can talk to Hugh alone.”
“Thanks,” said Spike running after Sergeant Peary.
“What is it with him and Silverberry?” asked Rhea.
“I don’t know, but I think it has something to do with his parents. We never knew our parents. Grizzelda and G.T. took care of us since we were little.”
They continued the walk to Hugh’s house, which was high on the riverbank at the other end of the bridge.
“That must’ve been tough, I mean, not knowing them,” prodded Rhea.
“I don’t know. I don’t have any memories of them. Spike and Melissa are a bit different. They remember, mind you not much, but enough to know what they sort of looked like, what they sounded like, felt like.”
“Felt like?”
“Yeah, everybody has a feel about them. It’s like the sound of a person’s voice. Spike says that Silverberry feels like somebody who might have known his parents.”
They continued on in silence until they found themselves standing on the doorstep of Hugh Dundas’s modest bungalow. Rhea’s face was emotionless, staring at the door remembering her own father.
“I understand,” was all she said before pushing the doorbell, and Colin felt that she did.
The door opened quickly as though he was expecting someone. Hugh Dundas teetered, wavering before them like on old bare-branch tree just about to fall down, then he stiffened, rooted, becoming stable. He looked behind them warily. The cloudiness cleared from his eyes and in one impatient motion, ushered them in, frantically shutting the door behind them. He had been waiting for someone, but they weren’t sure whom. Although his skin sagged on his face, eyelids hooding his eyes, Rhea and Colin could still see the remnant of fear there. He blinked and it was gone. He tried to smile but ended up giving them a tense, painful grin.
“Come on, come on, follow me,” he said impatiently, moving down the narrow hall into his study surprisingly fast for his advanced age. He seemed anxious to get away from the door. “I was wondering when you were going to get around to visiting me,” he said as he sat in his large plush chair and slowly sunk into it. He motioned for them to sit on the black leather couch facing him.
“You were waiting for us?” asked Rhea.
“No – yes, no, of course I was waiting for you,” he said testily unable to make up his mind.
“How did you know?” asked Colin. Was Hugh like his aunt, able to use his mind, to see, to communicate with people far away?
He scratched his head. “Because I looked out the window? I have a perfect view of the bridge. So, what does the enemy camp want?”
“It’s about the election,” began Colin.
Hugh Dundas let out a huge sigh, a worried look on his face. “I don’t really want to become Mayor you know. I had no idea I would be winning the silly thing, but now these ridiculous people, most of whom I detest, want to vote for me.”
“Why run then?” asked Colin unable to believe his good luck. They had come to ask him to throw the race and that’s exactly what he wanted to do.
“Victory by acclamation is no victory at all; besides, it was the only way I could get close to your aunt. I’m an avid genealogist and have been working on the Horwood family tree, but there are gaps that need filling. She has refuse
d any communication, so I thought this was the next best bet. If I run against her, she’s bound to want to talk to me.” He turned to Rhea. “Could you tell your mom to back off a bit.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a button and handed it to her. Over top of his profile, which looked distinctly like Caesar Augustus, were the words, ‘Pay your Due for Hugh.’
“Rhea, what’s he talking about?” asked Colin noticing her squirming in her chair.
“My mom is handling his campaign. When she heard Grizzelda was running she wasn’t at all happy. I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t listen,” explained Rhea.
“Yes, a bang up job of it. The problem is she’s too good. Do you think there’s a way to get her to stop working so hard?”
Colin turned to Rhea, dumbfounded that his best friend had been keeping this secret, “You’re working against us?”
“No, I’m not. I think this entire political thing is for people who’ve never grown up…and considering I’m hardly grown up that’s pretty profound,” explained Rhea.
“Indeed it is,” said Hugh.
“So, you don’t really want to win, and you’re running to get close to Grizzelda to ask her some questions about her family tree?” asked Colin trying to sort out Hugh Dundas’ motive. There was something about the family tree thing that didn’t sound true. “What else are you looking for?”
Hugh’s lips tightened before opening to yield to his thoughts. “All right the genealogy was a smoke screen. I need some answers. My son is missing. Now, I know Marcus is always jetting off here and there without letting me know, but he checks up on me no matter where he is. I haven’t heard from him since before Ms. Horwood’s dinner party. It’s not normal for him to let so much time pass without calling me. And remember, I told you my father owned a newspaper. You’ve probably read some of the stories. He wasn’t too friendly with Zuhayer. Well, to make a long story short, Zuhayer burned down the newspaper and ruined my father. So, when Zuhayer’s granddaughter rolls into town and claims Horwood House, I want to know why.”
“And you think running for mayor will help you know why Grizzelda claimed Horwood house? I mean, if you’re so curious, why don’t you just ask her,” said Colin so simply that it caught Hugh by surprise.
“There are other questions. Questions to do with Grizzelda and her sister, about Zuhayer’s wife, Charlotte, and what she died of and…” he paused, weighing them, “I think your aunt has a lot of answers. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out a way to get some leverage to use on her, to get her to open up. The direct route didn’t work. I’ve tried, but she put a restraining order on me, saying that I can’t go anywhere near the house, or she would have me arrested.”
“I don’t believe you,” said Colin. There was something more, something Hugh was hiding with his snowstorm of reasons. If he had lied once, who was to say he wasn’t lying now.
Hugh, suddenly agitated, jumped up out of his chair and loomed over them. “Because I want the truth, because my father wrote something that Zuhayer destroyed him over, and because I know he’s trying to come back and he’s somehow manipulating your aunt.” His fingers were closed into fist he now shook in the air. “I want him to pay for what he did to my family, and I need to have the jump on him.” Suddenly he lunged at Colin, his hawk beak of a nose hovering over the boy’s face. “What do you know?”
“I don’t know much,” said Colin squirming uncomfortably. He felt like a fly caught in a web.
“You know a lot more than you think,” said Hugh his hot breath puffing out each syllable. The harmless old man was gone leaving something sharp and dark. Then his features softened and his fingers unfolded from the fists he had made. Pressing them together in prayer like fashion he smiled. “I’ll make you both a deal. You tell me why you think Maestro is here, and I’ll happily blow the debate; however, something tells me it might not be that simple. I hope it is. There is nothing that frightens me more than having to be Mayor of this place.” He settled back into his chair. “All right, I’m all ears.”
Colin hesitated, and then, even though he didn’t mean to, began talking about Horwood House, the statue, and the odd behavior of his aunt. It was as though Hugh’s unblinking eyes were pulling the words from his mouth. When he mentioned the peculiar invisible guard things, a deadly serious pall settled over the old man’s face. Abruptly, he stopped Colin from talking, leaned over and rummaged through a pile of papers on a side stand until he found a battered old book and pulled it out. He began flipping through pages, fervently intent on finding something. Triumphantly he poked his finger like a spear into a particular spot and flipped the book around so they could see.
“Everything is fitting together! An old sociologist came up with these rules for behavior. You see, the behavior already existed; he just made it simple to understand. He said the first thing a person needs, is to satisfy their fundamental needs, like food, water, and shelter. As other needs are satisfied they ascend this pyramid until they reach the top, self-actualization. If I was to make a judgment call, your aunt is right here, second from the top. If she wins the approval of her peers, then she has only one stage left before….”
Suddenly despondent at his discovery, he sagged back into his chair. “So, that’s what the old devil is up to. He’s using your aunt, just like he used everyone around him. Do you know what he’s going to do with your aunt?” Not waiting for an answer, he reached over, took a tissue and blew his nose. He dropped the fluttering tissue in the small wastebasket beside his chair. “That’s what he’s going to do.”
Colin’s head was spinning. The images of the statue kept popping into his head: the marble block, then the first completed section, the second section, and the third, until the present state of the nearly revealed figure. He looked at the old man in a new light, with a new respect.
“So, the problem is,” began Rhea slowly, “is that you are winning the race, and we have to get you to lose it.”
Hugh grunted discontentedly. “Yes. How Maestro intends to send Zuhayer packing, I haven’t the foggiest. Don’t get me wrong. I want Zuhayer back here. I want to look into his eyes and give him back what he gave! Now he’s dragged Marcus into it. I know he has!” He leaned forward, his eyes suddenly flaring again, dispelling the murk there, and burning into Colin and Rhea. “If he’s hurt my son, I’ll…. Marcus and I may have our differences but I’m still his father. Where is he? Is he all right? Not knowing is killing me!” He took a moment to compose himself. “I just need to know more about Maestro’s plan,” he implored.
“Why don’t you ask him yourself,” said Colin. There was something about the old man that was ‘off’, that was lurking just below like some predatory fish. Colin couldn’t figure out why he had just blabbed so much to him.
“I’d like to, but I don’t want to run the risk of getting arrested. They rarely leave Horwood House.”
“I guess I could ask Maestro,” said Colin suddenly a little tentatively. He would ask Maestro, but he would ask him about Hugh Dundas.
“Good,” he said, then suddenly slapped his thigh with his hand, “but right now we have our little problem. How am I going to lose to your aunt? I never thought your aunt could be so bad at this.”
“I have an idea,” said Colin quietly, refusing to look at Rhea.
“Yes?”
Rhea was surprised when a copy of Aunt Grizzelda’s introductory speech for the debate appeared in his hand.
“I borrowed a copy from the office. I wanted to see what she was going to say,” explained Colin. “I thought we could use it.”
“What’s it like?” asked Rhea leaning in with Hugh.
“It’s terrible.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Hugh, deftly snatching the paper from Rhea’s hand. For a few pensive moments Hugh buried his hawk like beak in the paper before looking up. “You’re right, this is terrible. If your aunt read
s this rambling platform statement tonight, there would be no possible way she could win the debate, much less the election.” He rubbed his chin. “This is very interesting, very interesting.”
“What is so interesting?” asked Colin.
“Either your Aunt really doesn’t know what she’s doing, or she knows exactly what she’s doing. I think it’s the latter. We know that Zuhayer is using your aunt, and I think she knows it too; the problem is she’s trapped in his web. Regardless of what she says, subliminally she doesn’t want to win; she doesn’t want Zuhayer to come back.”
“Great, then beat her and it’s the end of the story, right?” said Colin optimistically.
“Wrong. It may stall him a little bit longer, but he most certainly will kill your aunt--and my son. I know if we solve this, not only will you get your aunt back, I’ll get Marcus back and we’ll all be rid of Zuhayer.”
Colin thought of the voice in the mirror and he knew that it was Zuhayer, somehow speaking from beyond the grave. He felt the tiny prickle of fear crawling along the nape of his neck and he involuntarily reached up to rub it.
“You all right?” asked Rhea.
Colin shook his head. A sinking feeling came over him, like a black pit opening up below his feet. “I’m all right,” he lied.
“Now let’s see. What can we do here?” Hugh picked up a pencil from the table and began to scribble furiously onto the paper. After a few moments of crossing out and writing in, he finished and handed the paper back to Rhea. “That should do it. I’d offer you cookies and milk, but if you’re going to type this up so that she doesn’t know it’s been tampered with, you ought to get going.”
He walked them to the entrance, shook their hands, commented on how it was nice doing business with them and shut the door.
Rhea gave a big sigh of relief, and looked at Colin hopefully. “Well, that was easy, now wasn’t it?”
