Missus Davenhill says in a soft tone, “Perhaps I have seen a ghost, Kim, perhaps I have. I am sorry if I have frightened you.”
“What is up, Marie? What are you thinking?”
“You are a genius, Kim, a one-of-a-kind genius in addition to performing with meticulousness as the best secretary this side of the Mississippi!” She chuckles. “To think you’re only forty years young. You do not know how fortunate I am to have you on our team and as my closest confidant and a good friend.”
“I don’t know about being a genius,” Missus Bell offers with a laugh, “but I am forty-one years old as of the tenth of July of last year, although I feel decades older. Anyway, what’s on your mind, what’s up?”
Missus Davenhill says, “It is something you said, Kim, about all the students that are involved in the upcoming Peter Pan production.”
“What did I say that got you so worked up, Marie?”
As she shakes her head back and forth, Missus Davenhill replies in a whisper, “You said all members of the Sextet are willing volunteers of the Peter Pan play. If my memory serves me correctly – I’ll need to check with the nurse and counselor to make certain – all the other students who have experienced visions and other weird things...” She pauses as she inhales and exhales slowly. She breathes in and out slowly to calm her nerves. She suddenly exclaims, “To include our beloved drama club teacher, Sylvester Jones! He has complained to me personally.” She pauses yet again, and then she says, “Goodness! Why didn’t I think of the connection sooner!” She smacks her forehead with an open palm. “Darn it. How could I have been so blind? It has been staring me in the face all this time!”
Missus Bell leans forward in the chair. “What is it, Marie. Please tell me. You are driving me crazy here. Spit it out before I go insane!”
“Kim, nearly all of the students involved in the play have experienced strange visions. Those affected include the actors, the students working the lights and the music, and those involved with the onstage screen projection. Even Sylvester says he has experienced strange visions!
“Kim, someone is manipulating the entire cast of the play! Maybe it is in the play’s tape-recorded music. Maybe it is in the written lines. Maybe it is something in the forest, ocean, and hillside images projected on the wide-screen at the back of the stage. Maybe someone is sending subliminal words of evil into the auditorium during play rehearsals. I do not know, but I wish that I did.” She bangs the side of her balled up on top of the desk.
“In spite of this, there is one thing of which I am certain. No one manipulates our drama teacher and our students. No one! I swear to God, Kim, we are going to find out who is doing this if it is the last thing that we do!”
Missus Bell leans back in her chair. Now, she is shaking her head as well. She says, “To think that Brenae Woodbine mentioned something along those lines during today’s lunch. Do you recall what she said, Marie?”
“Yes, I recall what she said,” Missus Davenhill says. “Brenae said that as a ventriloquist she often manipulates her crowd before she starts her magic act. She even mentioned that unscrupulous people manipulate runaways into thinking their captors are their protectors. It is too sad to think about, but what she said is true.”
Missus Bell says, “You said the same thing yourself twenty minutes ago, Marie. I assume you were unconsciously thinking about mind manipulation as well, correct?”
“Yes, I said the word manipulation, at least once. Similarly, if you recall, Brenae was looking at me straight-on when she spoke of mind manipulation. It was almost like she was trying to send me a message, but she did not know how to do it openly.” She frowns. “Something tells me that she, and perhaps the others, know more about what is happening than they are telling us. If not, perhaps Brenae is one step ahead of her teammates. I wouldn’t surprise me in the least. She is inquisitive, and she thinks on her feet.”
Missus Bell says, “There is no way of knowing. Then again, Brenae may have thought that we would not have believed her if she told us exactly what she was thinking. She may have thought we would have laughed at her. Teenagers sometimes feel timid around adults, especially adults in authority. Besides, even though she may somehow have considered it, she did not have the inside knowledge that we do, the knowledge of the former vice chairman.”
Missus Davenhill says, “You are correct. We probably would have dismissed her train of thought as too implausible and too incredible. Now, as I just said, the more I think about it, it is like our students know something we do not. Something is telling me they are one step ahead of us. That is good. That is why I formed the three-person team and why I allowed Chloe Brown to have the others join her team. They are super smart students and very gifted.
“I do not know if you know this, Kim, but Sophia Paige is a few points shy of being a genius. She’s only fifteen years old.”
Missus Bell says, “Goodness! I would never have guessed except she does look very young to be a high school senior. Thank you for telling me. Now, my respect for her has doubled. Okay, now that we have a hypothesis, a mindboggling assumption that someone is manipulating the students, perhaps we have caught up to what the Sextet knows?”
Missus Davenhill says, “Perhaps we have. We will have to wait and found out.”
Missus Bell says, “Wow, Marie! The Sextet team scooped us, and we didn’t know they were doing it. They are one solid, knowledgeable, inspiring team of bright youngsters like you said.”
“They certainly are,” Missus Davenhill replies. “Taking into consideration what we just discussed, do you think we should tell them about your hypothesis, the one concerning Neville and VCAASM?”
Missus Bell shakes her head.
“I recommend we keep that closely held for now. If we tell the Sextet at this stage, they might find themselves over their heads or get themselves in trouble. No, Marie, I suggest we allow them to do their investigation within the parameters of your memo. Let’s give them a chance to investigate the cafeteria food and fistfights, the weird videotapes, things of that sort. Let’s keep them close to home. Does that sound good to you? After all, that was your initial recommendation.”
“It certainly does sound good to me as the prudent way to go forward,” Missus Davenhill replies. “I agree. The last thing I want to do is place them in dangerous situations. Seeing things and having visions, whether they are real or unreal, are dangerous enough for anyone, especially impressionable teenagers. The Sextet team members are super-intelligent and innovative, but they are, at least in my eyes, innocent children. Pure and simple.”
Missus Bell says, “I agree, Marie. There is nothing more precious in our world than our children.” She smiles brightly.
“It takes years of living to realize what gives you life.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE BATTLE BEGINS
“Her skull was crushed.”
Part I: The Murder of Molly
Chloe and the other members of the Sextet are sitting in a circle on the dusty floor of an abandoned warehouse. The warehouse is the property of the Claymore Lumber Company. When it was operational, the warehouse stored lumbered timber used for telephone poles. The telephone pole section of the company shut down over twelve years ago with the advent of wireless cell towers and more durable metal utility poles. In spite of the twelve years that have passed, the warehouse still reeks of the chemical preservative, creosote.
It is four-thirty in the afternoon. Despite the time, the inside of the warehouse is gloomy and shadowy. The windows in the expansive warehouse are boarded up. The only outside light entering the warehouse is streaming through the double doors on either end. A propane gas lantern is in the middle of the circle for added illumination. James, an avid camper, is attending to the lantern.
Chloe says, “This is how I suggest we proceed going forward. What do you say we call this phase, the phase I am about to propose, the Sextet Battle Plan?” The others nod their head in agreement.
Brenae jots somethi
ng in Chloe’s green notebook. She is today’s notetaker. She says, “Sounds good to me.” She looks up. “Is battle plan one word or two?”
Sophia replies, “Two words. There was a military television documentary series that used Battleplan as one word. However, for our purposes, using two words is accurate.”
Chloe says, “Okay, let us assume Mister Cheaply and Puppet are working together. We must assume that Puppet’s son, Robert,” she glances at James and Brenae in turn, “possibly the elusive Spaghetti Kid, is in cahoots with them. Does everyone agree?” The others nod their heads.
“Okay, so we have to ask ourselves this. Why would Robert and maybe even his father, Puppet, be ticked off at us and our fellow townspeople, especially our classmates at Claymore High? We have a plausible reason why given what we know about Missus Puppet which is absolutely nothing. How all of this involves Mister Cheaply, if it does at all, is another question. We need to—”
Diana Jane interrupts. “Don’t forget, we need to focus on the unexplainable Grider Street injuries like Jay’s. We also must address the five fatalities which include our quarterback, Anthony Marvella. Perhaps all of those incidents are somehow related to the elusive Missus Puppet.”
“You are correct, Diana Jane,” Chloe replies, “and they are excellent points. Thank you.” She looks at Brenae who is staring blank-faced at the notebook.
“Bre, you’re unusually quiet. Can you share with us what you are thinking?”
Brenae does not look up from her notepad. She says in a quiet voice, “I knew you would ask me, Champ. I wish you hadn’t because I do not like to think of it. Seeing as you asked, I will answer you.” She looks up from her notepad and glances around the group.
“I owe each of you an explanation.” She briefly pauses as she takes a few deep breaths. “Okay, now I’m good to go. Yes, as you know, according to whoever owned the voice that I heard, or at least I thought I heard, Puppet and his son may be ticked off because someone killed their kin, Missus Puppet. I didn’t mention it when we met with Missus Davenhill and the others. I did not think it was important at the time. After giving it some thought, I now believe it is significant. Here are two things, in my opinion, we have to consider.
“One, we have no idea if what I heard or imagined is real. Two, we have no clue who Missus Puppet is. We do not know if the woman was a wife, a mother, or some distant cousin of Robert and Puppet. If I had to guess, I would say the woman is Robert’s mother. That is because the high-pitched voice I heard, or I thought I heard, was that of a teenager. The voice sounded exactly like Spaghetti Kid’s voice in the cafeteria too.” She looks at James. “Besides, according to Jay, who also has seen Robert, Robert has a high-pitched, whining voice. Am I correct, Jay?”
James says, “Yes, Robert does have a high-pitched voice. His voice has a weird, whining sound to it as well. As you know, Bre, his voice sounds spooky too. It creeped me out.”
Brenae starts to shiver. She says, “Yes, I know, Jay. His voice gives me the creeps as well. In any event, as it applies to Missus Puppet, we have no proof she is real. We have to be careful that we do not set out on a wild-goose chase.”
Colette says, “If I can go on a tangent briefly, I must say this. Sophia did not see Robert as himself or as Spaghetti Kid like Chloe, Brenae, and James. However, Sophia has heard or sensed a high-pitched voice. I think we can assume the voice belongs to Robert.” She glances at Diana Jane. “So far, Diana Jane and I are the only ones who haven’t heard or sensed Robert’s voice.” She frowns. “Which is fine by me.” Diana Jane nods her head.
“You are correct, Colette,” Chloe says. “However, the woman’s screams that we heard at the mansion could have been a high-pitched male’s voice. I’m thinking, since we saw a woman suspended from strands of twine, we naturally assumed the screams were a woman’s shouts. They could have been Robert’s. If that is the case, both you and Diana Jane have heard his voice as well. That would give us a one-hundred percent probability.”
Sophia says, “Returning to the Missus Puppet woman, I agree with what Bre said. Maybe what Robert said to her is a deliberate lie that is intended to draw us off course. Therefore, we should consider that the Missus Puppet aspect of our problem may be a nonstarter, a dead-end. What do you think, Bre?”
As Brenae glances around the group, she says, “I have to agree with the Accountant. Besides, we have checked the library archives, and there is no record of a Missus Puppet.”
Colette says, “Has anyone thought of googling the internet or researching the Latin word for puppet as it relates to Claymore’s historical files?”
“I never considered that,” James says. “As you know, I was the one that Chloe selected to research old newspaper obituaries and the microfiche of Claymore birth and death certificates at the library. I went back to the 1960s. It took me over five hours. I looked for the last name Puppet. I didn’t even know that there is a Latin word for puppet.”
Colette says, “Aye, there is a Latin word for puppet. The Latin word is pUPA. It comes from the Latin word pupillo. You spell pUPA with a lowercase p. The UPA letters are uppercase. The only reason I know this is because the Gazette mentioned the name pUPA.” She looks up at the ceiling as if she is trying to recall something from her memory.
After a few seconds, Colette says excitedly, “In fact, from what I read in the Gazette, the name we associate with Puppet probably is fictitious. I believe his first name is Reginald with a middle name that begins with the letter P. Aye! That is it. His name is Reginald P pUPA. I am fairly certain that is what I had read. It was at the end of the article when the Gazette quoted something Puppet wrote on the note, the note the authorities found in his jail cell. Because his middle name begins with P, it would make sense that people would call him Puppet.”
Chloe laughs. “Then again, of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that Reginald P. pUPA looks like a freaking, freaky, freakin’ puppet!”
Chloe’s spontaneous, hilarious comment elicits a burst of wild laughter from the others. Happily, her comment and the ensuing laughter also serve to brighten the group’s spirits.
As she continues to chuckle, Diana Jane says, “That was a good one, Chloe. What should we do now as it concerns the illusive Missus Puppet?”
Brenae, who has been typing frantically on her phone, yells, “Obviously, we go with Chloe’s assumption regarding the Missus Puppet woman.” She pauses briefly, and then she shouts, “I found it! Dang, if I didn’t find it!”
She jumps to her feet and begins to dance in circles with her arms held out wide. The others stare at her as if she has completely lost her mind. After at least a half-minute of dancing crazily, Brenae finally plops down onto her rear end between Sophia and Diana Jane. She is smiling from ear to ear.
“Listen to this. I am going to quote the Gazette newspaper article verbatim. She smiles at Colette, and then she shouts, “You were correct! You spell pUPA just the way you said with a lower case p and an uppercase UPA. Anyway, the article says, ‘Molly Gertrude pUPA, the loving sister of Neville Sorrie, Vice Chairman of the Western American Academy of Sleep Methodology, was found dead this morning. Her skull was crushed.’” Brenae looks up from her phone.
“The article does not say when they found Molly’s body, but the date of the Gazette article is April 12, 1952. It is a yellowed reproduction, perhaps a photograph of the original article.”
“Wow!” Sophia says. “No wonder Jay didn’t find anything about her. He only researched into the ’60s. Furthermore, he was looking for the last name Puppet, not pUPA.”
“Yep,” Brenae says. “I need you to listen to this. This is where it gets juicy! ‘Molly’s body was discovered by her husband, Reginald P pUPA, in the third story attic of their residence.” Brenae briefly pauses as she says, “I guess Sorrie was a bigshot back then since they mentioned his name before Puppet’s. Anyway, the story continues. ‘Their three-story, turn of the century residence is on the corner of Leroy Avenue and Marigold Avenue.’
”
The expression on Brenae’s face turns miserable just as she realizes what she has said. Her eyes well over with tears as she stares at Chloe unhappily.
Chloe returns her stare briefly. She bursts into tears, and then she immediately buries her face in the palms of her hands. She mumbles something incoherent in the palm of her hands. A few seconds later Chloe looks up and blurts out between grief-stricken sobs, “Oh, my God, Bre! This cannot be happening. You just described my house! It is a three-story house as you know, and it is on the corner of Leroy and Marigold Avenues!”
Chloe’s entire body begins to shudder. Diana Jane quickly removes her sweater and places it around Chloe’s shoulders. She tenderly embraces Chloe and whispers something into her ear. Diana Jane glances around at the others. Her look is tearful and heartbreaking. She shrugs her shoulders as if to say, “What do I do now?”
“That is weird,” Sophia exclaims in a whisper. “How coincidental is that? This pUPA woman, Molly Gertrude, died in the very house in which Chloe and her family live. It is too unbelievable to be true!”
Brenae holds out her phone. She wants her teammates to see the screen. She glances at Chloe who is looking directly at her, and then she says in an extremely dark tone, “Yes, it is too unbelievable to be true, but the proof is right here, that is if the article is accurate.”
Chloe says, “What else does it say, Bre? It hurts something horrible, but I need to know. The others deserve to know as well.”
Brenae says, “The article goes on to say, and I quote, ‘Molly was murdered in a fit of passion. The right side of her head was crushed by the force of a blunt instrument. A brick that was somehow dislodged from the chimney was found next to her body. It was covered in blood. The forensic experts matched the blood on the brick to Molly’s blood type. There are no suspects. The attending physician stated that Molly did not suffer. She died instantly.”
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