"Hey everyone, we're home!" Micky called out. He stepped into the center of the new house, grinning from ear to ear. Jenny was right behind him.
Immediately, the others crowded around, eager to see how she was. "You look pretty good," Davy commented.
"Thanks," Jenny replied. "I'm still a little weak, but I'll get over it." She looked around. "This place looks great!"
"It was a lot of work," Peter stated. "But it was worth it. Came out great."
From behind the couple, Mike stepped in, carrying Robert. "Does look good," he agreed. "The kitchen done, too?"
"Yup," Davy replied. "Can hardly tell anything was damaged."
"I guess we're just lucky we have such great friends," Micky commented.
"You were also lucky the fire didn't damage more," Mike put in sensibly.
"Yeah, I was lucky," Jenny said. "If it wasn't for Thomas calling me right before the fire and letting me know I was in danger, I think I might have been hurt more."
"Thomas?" Peter repeated. "Called you?"
"Yeah," Jenny replied. "I was busy putting the shelf together and then the phone rang. Thomas said he was calling from school and that I was in a lot of danger. Something bad was headed this way. I thought for a sec he'd lost his mind, but I went outside to see if there was anything coming. There wasn't anything. When I came back in, there was a fire roaring in the kitchen. I tried putting it out, but I guess the smoke was too much." She shrugged. "That's all I remember."
The others exchanged glances. "I don't remember Thomas saying anything about this," Peter spoke up.
"Neither do I," Davy agreed.
"Me either," Mike said. "I don't know why he wouldn't say anything about this."
"I don't remember him mentioning it either," Micky agreed.
"Why would Thomas not tell us about this?" Davy wondered.
"I don't know," Mike said. "But something weird is going on. First a threatening letter to Micky, then Jenny gets hurt… After the other night, I'm sure someone must be out to get either Micky or all of us."
"The other night?" Micky repeated.
"I got a funny call from someone a few nights ago right before you called saying I was in danger. Remember? Well, about ten minutes after that, the Pad was filled with chloroform," Mike explained.
"Chloroform?" Jenny repeated. "But why? If Micky wasn't there…"
"He was supposed to be. Maybe whoever set the gas thought Micky would be home. But the question is, why warn me first?"
"Unless the person who set the gas and the person who called weren't the same person," Peter theorized.
"Possible. But then how would they know?"
"You're sure this person wasn't Thomas, right?" Davy asked.
"Positive," Mike replied. "I couldn't even tell if the person was male or female. It was all garbled and mysterious. Definitely not Thomas."
"Could it be possible that Thomas didn't call Jenny?" Micky wondered. "That someone just impersonated him?"
"Possible," Peter replied. "But that person would have to know that Thomas was in school. And they'd have to know that Thomas would be a reliable person in that situation. If Thomas were to call someone and warn them, we'd believe him, right? That's probably why they would impersonate him." He frowned. "I doubt if he called you, Mike. Thomas has been so lost in those alien books lately, he wouldn't notice if a bomb went off next to him. We have to coax him away from them to go to bed. And to school."
"But why not just impersonate Thomas again?" Mike wondered. "Why be a garbled, untrustworthy voice if you can be someone else?"
"Maybe they figured if Thomas had something important to tell you he'd just go next door, not call," Davy suggested. The others had to agree that was the most likely reason.
Before anyone could produce more possible theories, Micky's stomach let out a loud rumble. The others laughed. "I guess we'd better continued our detective work at the burger joint," Micky suggested. The others agreed.
"We have to figure out something that all three incidents have in common," Mike decided as he, Peter, Micky, Davy, and Jenny took seats around the largest table in the Burger Heaven.
"They all involved me, somewhat," Micky spoke up.
"And they all were warnings," Mike added. "The letter. It was a warning of what was to come. The fire here was preceded by a warning. And the gassing, too. Someone wants us to get hurt, but not too badly."
"It doesn't make sense," Davy agreed as he unwrapped his burger.
"Let's try going over them one by one," Peter suggested. "First, the letter. It arrived in the mail?"
"No. It arrived with the mail," Jenny remembered. "There wasn't a stamp." She plucked the pickles off her cheeseburger.
Micky took the pickles from Jenny and put them on his own sandwich. "That's right. No stamp and no postage."
"Cheap stalker," Mike recalled. "And it was written in newspaper cutout letters."
"What else were you doing at that moment?" Peter asked, digging deeper.
Micky thought for a moment as he munched a fry. "Packing," he recalled. "We were packing for the move."
"That's right," Jenny agreed, swallowing a gulp of soda. "We were trying to figure out how we were going to fit everything in Micky's little car."
"And they were arguing about who got more fan mail," Mike recalled, gesturing towards Micky and Davy.
Davy grumbled as he stuffed his burger in his mouth, but said nothing.
Peter frowned for a second. "Okay, anything else?"
"I got a letter from my mom," Mike spoke up on the slim chance it might have some relevance.
No one could think of anything else, and they had already discussed the other two occurrences.
"Any thing the three have in common?" Peter asked. There was silence for a few moments while everyone munched on their food.
"The house!" Micky shouted suddenly. "It's all about the house!"
I tried to warn them. Tried to convince them. But there's little I can do to help them.
It's a shame, you know? A crying shame. A nice boy like that should be allowed to have a house like that. Not a conniving, sniveling, jerk who'd only sell it to make a fortune building apartment complexes and stores.
It's not fair! That house should be mine. Rightfully mine! It should have been left to me in the will. I have a need to make money, don't I?
The old man thought he could stop me. But he can't. There's really nothing he can do now. That cursed house is really cursed now. And I'll do anything to get rid of it! If only I could get rid of that pesky musician.
