Our interurban pulled into Cobs’ Corners right on time.
Cobs’ Corners: semis, townhouses, single-family houses laid out in rows, curlicues and cul-de-sacs as far as the eye could see. Tram rails snaked through the whole spaghetti-fied labyrinth. A track planning problem par excellence for the likes of the Schopp Company and their InterTrak wizards.
Professor Ellesmere’s house was only a couple of blocks from the train station. We decided to walk.
Her house was easy to find. White clapboard siding with bright yellow trim in a sea of umber and grey boxes. I had to admire her spirit.
The lawn was neatly trimmed and the flowerbeds weeded. Her house wasn’t abandoned.
We walked up the concrete path from the sidewalk to her front door. Leslie rang the bell. And knocked on the door. And rang. And knocked and rang and knocked and rang some more. No answer. Nothing stirred.
I looked up and down the sidewalk looking for signs of life and then said, “I’m going around back. Can you see if she hid a key anywhere?”
“Ok”
While Leslie checked under the welcome mat and garden rocks, I walked across the lawn to the back gate. I didn’t have time to get grass stains on my new shoes before I heard Leslie yell,
“Ed!”
“What?” I instantly replied. The tone of her voice said get back here fast.
She was white as a proverbial ghost. Silently she handed me a small, clear plastic box - a fusor case - with what looked like a black leach inside. There was a piece of paper stuck to the back of the box. “This was in the mailbox.”
Great to see the series continuing, it's getting exciting!
ReplyDeleteThanks Michael!
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