Chapter Two
*crash!*
Mike rested his chin on his knees and watched the once-elegant facade of the Victorian home belonging—until three days ago—to Mrs. Jenkins crumble under the weight of the wrecking ball being swung against it. The house had been nearly a hundred years old. Now it was a crumbling pile of timber and glass and shingle. His eyes stung and he rubbed at them. The Pad was only five doors down from the Jenkins house.
“Hey Mike,” Peter said as he sat down next to Mike. “Figured you came up here.”
“It’s not right, Peter,” Mike whispered. “It’s not right.”
“Preaching to the choir, Mike. Oh—Micky and Davy took Mrs. Jenkins out to a movie and dinner, so she didn’t have to hear them . . . ” Peter trailed off, watching the bulldozer flatten what had once been the house’s wide, shaded porch as tears filled his eyes. “Take her house,” he finished.
Mike shook his head. “This isn’t right . . . ” He flexed his hands. “All our skills . . . and we can’t do a damn thing!”
“Mike, someone or something is behind this. I think we should find out who it is . . . and stop him.”
“Agreed.” He sighed and rubbed his head. My head hurts.”
“Come on inside,” Peter said. “It’s chilly up here.”
He trudged inside, looking as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Peter fixed a pot of tea. “Did you get any feelings while you were at City Hall? Did anything feel funny?”
“That whole building felt creepy.”
“The whole building?” Peter frowned. “Then it’s really serious.”
Mike frowned. “Call me dense, but I’m not understandin’ where you’re goin’ to here.”
“Well, Mike, think about it. If it was something minor you wouldn’t have been feeling it that intensely. If the feeling permeates the whole building then it must be something big.”
“I’m going back. You come with me. And the others too.”
Peter nodded. “Full uniform? Or should we go in street clothes?”
“Full uniform. We’re going after hours.”
A slow grin spread across Peter’s face. “Micky and Davy’ll be thrilled.”
Mike grinned as well. “Armed too.”
“Even better.” Peter placed a cup of tea in front of Mike. “I wish we had enough money to buy Mrs. Jenkins a new house.”
“Me too,” he sighed, sipping the tea. “I hate seeing her like this. Seeing any of them like this!”
“Save it, Mike. Save it for the mayor.”
“Sit down. We gotta talk,” Mike said when Micky and Davy had returned.
“How’s Mrs. Jenkins?” Peter asked as Micky and Davy sat.
“She’s outside. Looking,” Micky said, his gaze firmly focused on the tabletop.
“How’s Micky?” Mike asked.
“I’m sitting right here, Mike,” Micky began. He was silent for a few moments, and as Mike opened his mouth to speak he said, “I’m sitting here trying to figure out why City Hall took her house away from her. And I’m having a very hard time with it, okay?”
Mike nodded. “So let’s go find out why.”
Something in his voice caught Davy’s attention. “Oh?”
“We’re goin’ to City Hall. In uniform. I have a feelin’ the answers we need are there. Right now.”
Davy’s face lit up and he looked over at Micky. Micky just got up from the table and headed for the closet. Mike smiled at Peter. “Think they like the idea.”
Mike just glowered. “Between you and me, I hope they rip the mayor to pieces.”
Peter’s grin faded, replaced by grim resolve. “Nobody has the right to do what he’s done.”
“Exactly why I hope they rip him apart.”
Peter grinned, then headed for the closet himself.
Mike tightened his belt, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket. He slid the small loops of fabric over his middle fingers, fastening the patches that covered the backs of his hands. It was a variation on the ninja uniform he’d seen in books, and somehow it seemed to suit his dark mood best.
“Should we take the car?” Peter asked as he pulled on the dark hat over his light hair.
“Yeah,” Mike said as they gathered around. How unlike the Monkees they looked, armed and dressed all in black. “We’ll park about a block away and split up, taking City Hall from different directions.”
As the other three were nodding at that, there was a sharp cry and the tinkle of breaking glass from the vicinity of the kitchen.
Mike whirled, his staff up and in a ready position.
Mrs. Jenkins stood there, staring at them, the shattered milk glass making a white puddle over her slippers. One hand was at the base of her throat and her eyes were huge.
“Uh oh, Mike,” Micky whispered.
Peter just closed his eyes.
“ . . . boys?” she whispered.
Mike just stared at her, his gaze just as fierce. “Mrs. Jenkins, we don’t have time to explain. We’re goin’ to find out why your house is a pile of rubble. The mayor’s gonna answer for this.”
She stepped forward. “ . . . explain . . . later?” her voice was a whisper.
Mike again opened his mouth to say something, but his words were interrupted by Micky as he pushed by. The dummer took Mrs. Jenkins’s trembling hands in his own and smiled his most reassuring smile. “We’ll explain it all. I promise. Just go on back to bed, and we’ll be home before you know it.”
She touched his cheek. “Be careful?”
He kissed her hand. “We always are.”
Nodding, though still shaking, she returned to the bedroom.
Without another word they headed to the car, driving into town. When they split up, two took the high road and two took the low. Mike looked at Peter. “You ever notice how we always end up together?”
“I’m starting to wonder if it’s so those two can spar or something . . . ”
“Jeez, I hope not—they’d better be there when we get there, or I’ll show them sparring . . . ”
“I shudder to think what they’ve been doing without our reasoning voices.”
“We’ll see soon enough,” Mike said as he and Peter came within sight of City Hall.
“There they are,” Peter pointed upward.
“How in the world did they get up there so fast?” Mike said, craning his neck to see the two figures perched on the edge of the roof.
Micky spared a jaunty wave.
Peter sighed, shaking his head. “Sometimes I wonder if that dragon can fly.”
“Who knows?” Mike said. “Saves me the time it’d take to tell him to get up there. C’mon—you an’ me are gonna approach from the ground.”
Peter nodded and fell in step. They crept up to the front door; Mike touched it, easing it open a fraction, then easing it open more when no alarms went off. Peter slid it closed once they were through.
Mike tiptoed down the hall, the soft, pliable soles of his split-toed boots allowing him to move silently.
As they turned the corner Davy and Micky appeared out of twin stairwells.
Mike ordered them to head down the hall, veering off further down and approaching the mayor’s office from the opposite direction, all without saying a word; his hands did the talking for him.
Peter entered the office first, leaping nimbly from the desk to the top of the file cabinet and back to the floor without making a single sound.
Mike crept in after Peter. “Show off,” he mouthed.
Peter stuck out his tongue, eyes glittering with mirth. It faded as his head tilted toward the door.
Moving as one, they approached the mayor’s inner sanctum, listening intently to the voices emerging from inside.
On to Chapter Three
Back to Chapter One
Back to Secrets and Lies Index
