Normally, Nipper was not the first person Samantha would want anywhere near her while she investigated an amazing discovery. Yet there they were, spending the rest of that day together on their hands and knees, poring over drawings and details on an upside-down umbrella.

At first, they passed the magnifying glass back and forth, examining the tiny illustrations. They took turns calling out anything they could recognize.

“Alaska,” announced Samantha. She passed the magnifying glass to her brother.

“I think I see pyramids,” Nipper countered.

“The Hollywood sign,” Samantha fired back.

“Not fair,” said Nipper. “The Hollywood sign has letters. It’s like its own big label.”

Most of the illustrations, however, did not have any letters or labels. The complete umbrella lining was an octagonal snarl of drawings with lines and arrows that ran in every direction, from one picture to another. There were a few numbers here and there and a few random words.

It was as if someone had taken an atlas, a dictionary, and a few board games; chopped them up in a blender; and splattered all the tiny bits inside the umbrella.

What Samantha and Nipper were really looking for was a picture or clue connected to Seattle. If they could find anything in their hometown, then they would be able to go and investigate.

They’d have proof that the Plans were what they thought they were.

Then maybe, Samantha thought, this might lead to a clue about what happened to Uncle Paul!

Unfortunately, after several hours of inspection, they’d found nothing related to their home in the Pacific Northwest.

By the time they came downstairs for dinner that night, both kids had lost a bit of their enthusiasm.

“What have you been doing, you two?” asked their dad.

“Research,” said Nipper.

“He’s helping me with research for a story I’m writing,” added Samantha quickly.

She wasn’t ready to tell her parents about the new discovery. If Uncle Paul had kept it secret, maybe it was important for her and Nipper to keep it secret, too.

“Well, that sounds like a fine project,” said their mother. “And it’s good to hear that you’re writing something other than those gloomy notes in that little black journal.”

Samantha and Nipper ate slowly and quietly. Staring at fabric for hours at a time would make almost anyone feel drowsy.

As soon as they finished, Samantha and Nipper decided to make another trip across the driveway and up the stairs to Uncle Paul’s apartment. It gave them a break from staring at the inside of an umbrella. But it didn’t give them any new clues.

Samantha read the spine of every book on the shelves.

Nipper studied the note pinned to the wall opposite the windows.

“I still think there’s some clue here about Uncle Paul and where he went,” he said, and tapped on the word waffles with an index finger. Then he took a step back and squinted at the arrangement of words to see if it was shaped like an umbrella. It wasn’t.

Samantha looked over at the hula hoop trophy on the coffee table and then out the window to their house across the driveway. It was getting dark outside and starting to rain.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go back to the Plans.”

They stepped quickly through the drizzle, down the wooden stairs and across the driveway, and went through the kitchen and headed up the stairs and into Samantha’s bedroom. Then they got down on their hands and knees and resumed searching, squinting, and passing the magnifying glass back and forth.

Samantha studied a zigzaggy line that started at one edge of the umbrella. She traced it with her finger across the fabric. It ran through a blob shaped like a mitten.

“Michigan,” she said, and continued tracing the line. It ran through a jagged shape that looked like the letter Y.

“Mozambique, maybe,” she continued, sounding uncertain. “And…and…,” she continued as the line neared the center of the umbrella.

“And what?” asked Nipper.

“And…nothing. I got nothing,” she answered.

Nipper let out a big sigh. “I’m more than tired of this,” he said, and grabbed the magnifying glass.

He flipped the umbrella over and started to inspect the outside.

“There’s nothing to see,” said Samantha. “Just red fabric.”

Nipper continued to look though the magnifying glass, then stopped at a spot near the center of the umbrella. He looked up at Samantha.

“Red fabric…and a flying saucer!” he said loudly.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“See for yourself,” he said, handing the magnifying glass back to her.

Samantha stared through the lens and examined the umbrella. She noticed the tiny hole that she had peeked through a dozen times from the inside. Beside it, on the outside, she saw what Nipper saw.

There really was a little drawing of a flying saucer. It was just above the hole, and it looked very familiar.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Nipper asked.

“Hang on,” said Samantha.

She took a closer look. The flying saucer, drawn on a tiny bit of fabric, was poking out next to the hole.

Samantha folded the little bit of cloth back with a finger. She rubbed it a few times so it would stay in place. Then she carefully turned the umbrella over and started searching to find the same spot on the inside.

Nipper leaned in and looked over her shoulder through the magnifying glass.

There was a slender three-legged tower with the tiny flying saucer at the top.

“The Space Needle,” they both said at the same time.

Anyone who has been to Seattle knows the Space Needle. It’s a giant tower with a flying saucer–shaped top, and it stands in the north end of the city. On foggy days, all you can see is the top and its blinking red light, so it looks like space aliens are flying over the city.

Uncle Paul had poked a hole in the umbrella right at that spot. Right where they lived!

Samantha shifted the lens around, inspecting the drawings nearby. To the left of the Space Needle she saw a drawing of a mailbox. It had the number 3 written on it. To the right of the mailbox, there was a round building with arched windows.

She and Nipper looked at each other, then back at the drawing. It was the brick water tower at the south end of Volunteer Park—just three houses down from where the Spinners lived.

“That’s it, Sam!” Nipper shouted. “That’s our corner!”

“And I bet that’s our mailbox,” Samantha added, pointing at the little drawing.

“We’ve got to check this out now,” said Nipper, scrambling to his feet. “I’m heading out there.”

Samantha rose quickly, reached for the back of his shirt, and grabbed him before he could get away. It was nearly midnight, raining, and pitch-black outside.

“First thing in the morning,” she insisted.

Then she let go of her brother’s shirt and picked up the umbrella. She folded it with a little more care than before.

That night, she slept with the umbrella propped against the wall, right beside her bed.