STEALING EDEN Part Four (Continued)

Meanwhile, Spike and Lynda slept on. In the hallway outside of the apartment, two policewomen waited as a their superior officer chatted with the landlord downstairs. After a few minutes, the detective inspector came up the stairs and faced two very skeptical women.

"Inspector Morse?" Sophie muttered.

"Couldn't you be any more original than that?" Laura added.

Marriner shook his head. "It worked, didn't it? Next time, I'll come up with a nice long pair of Polish names for you lot and we'll see how you like 'original'."

"So are we going in now or what?" Laura asked.

"Absolutely," Marriner said. He turned the door knob and the door quietly opened. He looked at the two girls. "Nice job picking the lock. I'm impressed," he said as he walked into the darkened apartment.

"Do we tell him it was already open?" Sophie asked Laura.

Laura shook her head. "Not a chance." They followed him inside.

The room was dark, but not so dark as to make navigation impossible. The first rays of sun were peeking through the blinds, and Marriner was busily fumbling with some electronic gadget he'd pulled from the grubby pockets of his coat.

"Stupid machine," he muttered. "A chronon detector should register particle decay, right? Everything can't be decaying, so what's the problem?"

Sophie eyed the machine. "Chronon detector?"

"Objects that travel in time give off signature patterns of chronons. Find the chronon, find the book."

"We travel in time, why doesn't it register us rather than the book?" Sophie asked.

"Very simple, the reason is....." Marriner halted for a moment. "I suppose that would be a problem, now that you mention it."

"Plan B," Laura whispered. "You take the bathroom, I'll take the sofa, and you--" and she looked at Marriner and smiled "Put your gadget away, Inspector, and go check his desk."

"I'm supposed to be in charge here," Marriner whispered, and batted Laura on the nose. Laura noted with some satisfaction he did indeed move off to check the desk.

"So, what are we going to do about Lynda?" Julie asked. "Is she still the editor or not?"

"That depends on Lynda--I haven't spoken with her, yet." Sarah said. She noted Julie's look of disappointment. "Julie, Lynda had certain visions in mind for the Junior Gazette when she took it commercially. She needs to run a paper for adults. She's not the right person to develop talent. That's where you come in, Julie. When Lynda returns, you are going to sit down with Matt and Bill Sullivan and get the old Junior Gazette concept running again with you in charge."

Julie seemed very surprised. "The old Gazette wasn't a money maker. Kerr as much as said so. Why bring it back now?"

"Because the new owner isn't interested in the Junior Gazette making money, Julie." Sarah got out of her chair and wandered over to a window and stared out on the grounds below. "The old Gazette didn't sell a lot of papers, but it got a lot of good publicity and got kids thinking about journalism as a career. I learned so much from the Junior Gazette, Julie, and I want to be able to pass that on to other kids. Why should we be the only lucky ones?" Col. Marriner and I share the same vision in that regard.

"So where does that leave Lynda, if we're going to go back to the old format?"

"Paul envisions several possibilities...." Sarah began, walking away from the window and back towards her chair.

"Paul?" Julie asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Oops, sorry," Sarah shyly said. "I have a hard time thinking of him as, you know." She blushed a little. Maybe it was more than a little, though the tan masked it somewhat.

"Look at you," Julie marveled. "I don't believe this. You're falling all over yourself for him, aren't you?"

"Maybe," Sarah said, trying to regain her composure. "He's quite a guy."

"What do you really know about him, Sarah?" Julie asked bluntly.

"Enough." Sarah said. "I'm not sure I trust him yet, and I'm trying to make sense of what I've seen of him, and I don't have all the facts, but he has a good heart and has been through hell to get here. But I know enough to want this job and I'll see his wishes are carried out."

Daylight was now much more in evidence outside, and not a trace of the book had been found. The three thieves looked at each other and then at the bedroom door. Paul crept over and quietly pushed it open slightly. "They're still asleep," he whispered. "Do we risk it?"

Sophie and Laura pushed the door open and entered. Marriner shook his head. "Nothing like risk to get the blood going early in the morning," he thought to himself. "To be young and stupid again."

"Took them long enough to get this far," Laura said. She pulled out a tiny camera from her uniform pocket and started taking pictures of the sleeping couple. Marriner looked at her crossly, and she stuck out her tongue at him. "Insurance," she said in a whisper. "In case they're no longer friends someday."

Sophie had wandered around to the opposite side of the bed and was searching a nightstand and not finding anything. In a fit of puckishness, she lifted up the blankets on Spike's side of the bed and peered underneath. "What a cheat!" she whispered to Laura. "I bet they didn't even do anything." Marriner threw up his hands in disgust. "Why did I bring you two along anyway?"

"Well, now we know the book isn't under the blanket," Sophie whispered. "If you're going to search, do it right. Any luck?"

"Not in the closet," Marriner said. "I'm not even sure she's got it here now. We're running out of places to look."

At this point, Spike began to stir under the covers, and in stirring, accidentally kneed Lynda in the stomach. Marriner dove for the closet, and Sophie and Laura quickly hid under the bed. Lynda woke up, looked at the still sleeping Spike and then looked at the clock.

"Seven o' clock?" she muttered. "I should have been up hours ago." She got out of bed, absent-mindedly knocking her pillow on the floor, and left the room. Soon, the shower could be heard in the background and Marriner glanced out from the closet to see if Spike was still asleep. He was, but not soundly, and was stirring more.

"Let's get out of here, you two." Marriner exited the closet and cautiously stuck a head out into the living room.

Sophie and Laura rolled out from under opposite sides of the bed and joined him. All three got out of the apartment and closed the door--Marriner locking it behind them.

"What a mess," Marriner muttered. "Of all the complete and utter--" he paused and looked at Laura, who was clutching something behind her back. "Now what could that be?" he asked her pointedly.

"Oh, something somebody tried to hide in the box springs under the bed. Sophie saw a hole and thought it might be worth a look." She handed the only known copy of Damn, biography of Lynda Day Thomson, currently existing in this time frame. Marriner clutched it to his breast, and then slipped it into one of his jacket pockets. "Time to get lost, you two. I'm proud of both of you," he said as he ruffled their hair.

A short time after they had checked in and retired to their rooms, the desk clerk phoned Kevin--not Kate, who was even more disposed not to like him now--and said he'd arranged for someone to give them some background on Paul Marriner's life. "Be in the lobby at 4:30, and she'll be there", he had said. Kate had come down to the lobby half an hour early and was taking in the scenery. The old man behind the front desk was reading a newspaper and was smoking another of his dreadfully stagnant smelling cheap cigars. The maid came through the lobby pushing a vacuum cleaner and disappeared down the hallway to where the first floor rooms were. Next to the lobby television set, two twenty-something guys who looked like they hadn't met with a bathtub in a very long time were watching "Batman" and comparing Robin to Batgirl and arguing which was the better partner. An Indian gentleman sat in a corner meditating quietly. Kevin ambled down the stairs and headed for the television, but Kate steered him towards the door, where a young woman had just entered and gone to speak with the desk clerk. The clerk pointed towards them, and the woman walked over.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Angie Becker. Francis tells me you want to hear some Marriner stories."

Kate and Kevin introduced themselves, but Kate took the lead in responding to her. "We're interested in stories, sure, but we'd like to know who he is and what to expect out of him. He just bought our newspaper, and we don't know what to believe about him or what kind of person he is."

"How much are you offering me for stories?" Angie asked bluntly.

Kate and Kevin exchanged glances. "We're not offering to pay you anything," Kate replied. "We couldn't afford to--we're not a big newspaper, and if Marriner knew we were here, he'd probably fire all of us."

Angie chuckled. "If he doesn't know you are here, he'll find out in due course. Mrs. Fitzpatrick, the bus station attendant will ring him up to let him know if anybody interesting is in town. Francis will, too. Paul made lots of friends here, and he still keeps in touch. He'll know you are here. Count on it."

"Not much cause for optimism, then." Kevin looked downcast.

"Relax, Kevin," Angie said with a sympathetic smile. "I like you guys. You're amateurs compared to the slick big city papers that come here trying to dig dirt and not get caught. Paul loves to match wits with them. So do we little people. We take their money, tell them wild tales, overcharge them on meals and souvenirs, and laugh when they print what we make up and the government denies it. They look silly, we get rich, and they never learn their lesson because Paul is always doing something to get their goat and they want nothing more in the world than to crush him."

"So you'll help us?" Kate asked nervously.

"I can't guarantee I'll tell you everything you want to know, but I'll tell you what I can."

"Great," Kevin said. "When do we start?"

"Not here," Angie said, pointing to the guests. "You never know who is listening in this place. Come home with me, I'll fix us some dinner, and then tell you some tales."

On To Part Five