best drinks in town. On top of that, he could help us out of this mess.â
âWhat mess?â
âWere you not listening to me last night?â
âThe sheriff said it was just some local kids blowing off steam.â
âHeâs wrong,â Miles said, as Vortex started a blender behind the bar.
âIs this just some prank you play on all the new kids in town?â
âThis situation is as far from a prank as you can possibly get.â
The blender stopped, and Vortex brought over two large jars filled with a greenish-brown mixture. He put them down and left, disappearing behind the beads and into the back room.
I sniffed my drink. It smelled like dirt.
âIt tastes better than it smells,â Miles said.
âBetter than dirt? I find that hard to believe.â
He grabbed his, gulped back half the glass and slammed it back onto the table. âYouâll just have to trust me.â
I nodded and took a sip. He was right; it tasted a whole lot better than it smelled.
âIâm not crazy,â he said.
âNo, youâre right. It kind of tastes like a Creamsicle mixed with ââ
âIâm not talking about the drink, Charlie. Iâm talking about last night. Iâm not crazy â thereâs something highly irregular going on with our mutual neighbor, Mr. Ted Baxter.â
âI donât suppose heâs connected with the antique dolls you told me about?â
âThe antique dolls?â
âThat stuff about the Holscombs. I didnât hear how it all turned out.â
âOh, right. Well, they hadnât been seen for a few days, so the cops took a look inside. All the clothes were folded and put away, the fridge was full of food, the TV was on, et cetera, et cetera, but there was no sign of the Holscombs. They found the dolls tucked under the covers of Mr. and Mrs. Holscombâs bed ⦠But forget about that. The Baxters are the immediate problem here.â
âSo, you actually think the dolls murdered the entire Holscomb family? And then what did they do? Bury them in the backyard?â
âForget about the Holscombs, would you!â Miles said. âWe can go into the long and sordid history of antique doll murders some other time. Right now, I need you to focus on the Baxters.â
âOkay, fine,â I said, taking a bigger sip. âIâll stay clear of Mr. Baxter. Consider me warned.â
âNo, no, no,â he said, âIâm not talking about staying away from the man. Iâm talking about doing something about this situation. Do you understand me?â
âNot exactly,â I said and took another sip. I was starting to think that Dr. Vortexâs Re-Animator might be the most delicious thing Iâd ever tasted.
âLast night,â he said, leaning in, âat 8:58 p.m., I was finishing up my nightly ten-mile run ââ
âYou should be talking to my sister,â I said.
âI think itâs important to stay fit for emergency situations.â
âSo does she.â
âJust listen.â
âMy apologies,â I said and nearly finished off the Re-Animator in one big gulp.
âI was finishing up my run when I noticed a man, dressed in a navy blue suit, sprinting through Mr. Baxterâs backyard,â he said, and looked at me like this should mean something.
âUh-huh.â
âDonât you see? Adults in suits donât sprint through other peopleâs backyards unless they are highly motivated.â
âHighly motivated?â
âExactly,â he said.
âHighly motivated by what?â
âNow youâre asking the right questions,â he said, smiling. âI didnât have to wait long to find out because about three seconds after the man in the suit ran by, Mr. Baxter and his wife emerged from the corner of the house, chasing after him toward the rear of their property. And do you know
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