Chauncey went next, bellhop cap firmly in hand, saying he wanted to regale Miss Marblemaw with stories of his journey to become the best bellhop the world has ever known. Whether he succeeded was in the eye of the beholder. Arthur thought he had. Miss Marblemaw, on the other hand, did not seem to appreciate the fact that Chauncey could now make ink.
Next was Theodore, and though Arthur offered to translate, Miss Marblemaw (smears of ink across her chest) declined. Precisely six minutes later, Theodore left the office, head held high, a gold button trapped firmly between his fangs. The button looked suspiciously like the ones that adorned Miss Marblemaw’s coat. Arthur stuck his head into the office to ask her if she was ready for Phee, but Miss Marblemaw must not have heard him, glaring down at the loose threads on her coat where a button had been.
Phee’s meeting lasted twenty-six minutes. When she came out of the office, she said, “All she did was rant and rave about thieving dragons.”
“Strange,” Arthur said. “I didn’t know we had any dragons.”
“That’s what I told her, but she wouldn’t listen.”
Lucy went next. The meeting lasted three minutes. When he came out, he shrugged and said, “She didn’t want to listen to me talk about sticky buns and Hell. I’m so sad for her.”
“Anything else?” Arthur asked.
Lucy looked up at him, a strange light in his eyes. “What else could there be?”
Sal went last, and without a word to Arthur. Instead, he nodded, and then went into the office, shutting the door behind him. Forty minutes later, the door opened and Miss Marblemaw was smiling. “Thank you, Sal,” she said. “That was an illuminating conversation.” Her smile faltered when she saw Arthur standing in the hall, but it was brief. “I appreciate that you take this so seriously. You get one official courtesy point.”
“Thank you,” Sal said. “I know you only want to help.”
After she disappeared back into the office, Arthur fell in step beside Sal as they moved down the hallway. “Are you all right?”
“I am,” he said. “Stabbed her with kindness.”
“The best kind of stabbing, or so I’m told.”
“David?”
“Safe for now,” Arthur said as they reached the top of the steps. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about photographs in my desk, would you?”
Sal paused, lips quirking. “How did they get there?”
“As if by magic. I notice you didn’t ask what the photographs showed.”
“Did they help?”
“They did.”
“Huh,” he said. “How about that?” He descended the stairs, whistling.
Bright and early Saturday morning, the residents of Marsyas Island piled into a maroon van, their excitement palpable. Adventure called, and those lucky enough to answer did so with a wide-eyed exuberance only found in the young and the young at heart.
And then there was Miss Marblemaw.
“What is she wearing?” Phee asked, face plastered against the window as the inspector made her way from the guesthouse toward the van.
For once, Arthur didn’t have a ready answer, but only because Miss Marblemaw appeared to have gotten into a ferocious battle with a peacock and somehow emerged victorious. That was the only explanation for the colorful feathers of varying lengths that formed a collar around her neck, the ones at the back of her head rising dramatically above her. The feathers were attached to a long black coat cinched tightly at the waist.
“Is it mating season?” Chauncey asked. “Her plumage is on full display.”
“That’s one word for it,” Linus muttered.
“If she starts dancing toward you as she brings you shiny rocks, run in the other direction,” Phee said.
“Who wears a coat in summer?” David asked. “Is she hiding secrets?”
Theodore chirped and clicked, and Sal patted his head. “No, bud. She can’t fly.”
“She’s almost here!” Lucy whisper-shouted. “Everyone act normal!”
Right when Miss Marblemaw opened the sliding door and stuck her head in, Talia said, “And that’s the reason I decided to devote myself to the Lord.”
“Wow,” Chauncey said. “That sure was a neat story, Talia. Miss Marblemaw! We didn’t even see you there. Welcome! If any birds attack you, don’t worry! It’s mating season.”
Miss Marblemaw pulled her head out of the van, tilting her face toward the sky. “Birds could attack me?”
“Maybe,” Lucy said. “But you look like you could hold your own, so I wouldn’t be too worried if I were you. And look! I saved you a seat. Isn’t that fun?” He patted the space next to him, smiling widely.
Miss Marblemaw looked back into the van, a sour expression on her face. “I don’t suppose there’s a second vehicle.”
“There is not,” Linus said pointedly. “If you’re coming with us, get in.”
She did exactly that, heading for the row in the back where Lucy waited for her. Lucy winked at Arthur in the rearview mirror before exclaiming, “You did it! I knew you could. Sit right next to me. There you go. Oh, look! Our legs are touching. Linus, we need travel music. Can you give us some tunes?”
“Any requests?”
“You’ll know it when you hear it.”
Linus began to flip through the stations and had only turned the knob slightly to the left before a familiar pluck of guitar strings filled the van. A moment later, a rockabilly named Gene Vincent sang about how he’s led an evil life, so they say, but he’ll hide from the Devil on judgment day.