The girls arrived at the house before we did, and Kelly and I were greeted by the eight of them sitting on my front stoop. Hilly must've been out, because she would have let them in. Maybe she took Roger somewhere. I crossed my fingers behind my back to hope that idea into existence.
"Alright, ladies." Kelly held up her right hand in the quiet sign as I let everyone in.
Kelly gave them a meaningful stare that either the girls didn't understand…or ignored. "We can go ahead and eat first, since I want to talk to you about something."
The girls froze and looked at each other. They were smart enough to know that A) this had never ever happened before and, in fact, violated the mid-meeting code, and B) Kelly said she wanted to talk to them about something, which meant they were in trouble.
Betty was the first to speak up. "We want a lawyer present."
Kelly looked at me, and I shrugged—which was my usual expression for things like this. "I haven't even told you what I want to talk about."
"You're lawyering up?" I added. This had to mean that they'd done something far worse than what we wanted to talk to them about.
Betty looked at me as if she knew what I was thinking. "Never mind. What's up?"
"I think I'd like to double back," I started to say.
The girl shook her head, "No backsies. You can't ask about anything else other than what you were originally going to yell at us about."
"That's not a thing," I said. "I want to know what you've done that requires a lawyer."
"Nothing." The girl shrugged. "Now out with it. What did you call us here for?"
The other girls said nothing. Betty had obviously been elected the de facto spokesperson for the group. That was fairly typical and did not bode well.
"The zoo." Kelly took the lead and didn't single Lauren out. "The penguin at the dance, the howler monkey at city hall yesterday."
"We don't know how he got there," Betty interrupted. "We're pleading the fifth."
I looked at her. "You're pleading the fifth, which means you don't want to say anything that can implicate you, for something you are saying you didn't do?"
"That's right," the girl said.
"Which is it?" I pressed.
"Don't try to outsmart Betty," Inez said, breaking her silence. "It's impossible."
Kelly must've decided that she would tackle what she knew was true. "You ladies have access to the zoo and are abusing it. Dr. Wulf is upset that you might take out an even more dangerous animal next time."
"There goes the ocelot," Lauren muttered underneath her breath.
"Ocelot?" I asked.
"And," Kelly continued, "she's considering banning the troop from the zoo."
"She can't do that!" two of the Kaitlyns whined.
"We love the zoo!" said the other two.
"I'm a junior zookeeper," Lauren proclaimed. "I'll let you guys in."
"That includes you." Kelly leveled her gaze at the real culprit. "And she's considering revoking your junior zookeeper status. Which Dr. Wulf says is odd since they don't have a junior zookeeper program."
There was a terrible silence.
"Junior zookeeper is a city position," Ava decided.
"No, it's not." Kelly wasn't letting it go. I thought about warning her.
"It is now," the mayor said. "And Lauren is the deputy assistant director of the animal control service."
"Why only deputy assistant director?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Ava rolled her eyes. "Because of some silly ordinance that says an adult has to be the director."
That was interesting, since there wasn't such a requirement to be mayor.
"It's okay," Lauren added. "Ms. Black is very nice."
"Back to the zoo thing," Kelly said. "You guys cannot check animals out of the zoo like it's a library."
"But Lauren is junior zookeeper," Inez said with a frown.
"Not really," I threw in, in an attempt to look responsible in front of Kelly. "And until the next city council meeting, she doesn't hold that role for the city either."
"I'll straighten things out with Dr. Wulf." Betty held her hands up. "Don't worry about it or the other thing."
"What other thing?" I asked.
Betty froze. "I didn't say that."
Was she still glitching over Conrad? At least she hadn't brought him to the meeting. Betty's latest campaign was to make him an honorary Girl Scout.
"I didn't check them out," Lauren laughed. "That would be ridiculous. It's an animal ambassador thing."
The four Kaitlyns pointed at Lauren and nodded.
"No more," Kelly warned. "This has to stop now. Got it?"
"Fine," Betty sighed.
"Pinky swear?" I held out a crooked pinky.
There was a gasp. The pinky swear was an incredibly serious promise that, if broken, would send the world into absolute darkness. And there was that thing about needles…
The girls held their hands behind their backs. No one moved.
"Look," Betty said. "It's enough that we told you we wouldn't do that anymore. But what about Mrs. Wrath? She goes to see Mr. Fancy Pants all the time in the middle of the night."
All eyes turned to me. Kelly had a smirk that said I told you so.
"That's me going to visit him," I explained. "I don't take him out of the zoo."
"It's literally the same thing." Betty folded her arms over her chest.
"It's not at all the same thing," I reasoned. "I go into his enclosure. You take animals out of the zoo entirely."
"No we don't. We don't know how that howler monkey got inside city hall," Betty said.
The girls glared at us. They weren't backing down from this rather obvious lie.
"Whatever." Kelly sensed we were getting nowhere. "Don't remove any animals from the zoo!"
"Starting now?" Lauren asked. "Like from this second onward, right?"
If she could back date the promise, I was sure Kelly wouldn't have. Instead, she capitulated. "Yes."
"Oh good," Lauren sighed.
Something was off about this. My spy-dy senses were doing backflips.
Hilly came down the hallway. "Hey, guys, how long is that ostrich going to be in my room?"
We looked at Lauren.
"Technically, that's okay because we did that this morning," the girl said.
Betty put her hands on her hips. "Another thing we don't know anything about."
There was a loud crash in the bedroom.
Hilly pointed down the hall. "See what I mean? I can't clean my guns with Oswald in there!"
Roger came very slowly down the hall. "We can come out now? Why didn't anyone tell me?" He looked at the girls. "Hello! I'm the Holy Mud Man of Blasto Blasto."
The girls seemed surprised as he eventually eased himself onto the couch. Fortunately, he tugged his cassock down over his bare knees.
"Oh sure," Betty groused. "We can't have an ostrich in your house, but you can move a priest in!"
"I'm not a priest," Roger countered. "I'm a holy man. I do the annual spring Blessing of the Mud back home." He held up one finger. "But not this year. Because I'm here to determine if the babies are prophets and if Merry is the Great Pook Snork."
The girls all nodded, as if this made perfect sense.
"If you're a holy man," Ava said slowly. "You can bless the job of junior zookeeper so we can keep it. Right here, right now."
Roger's face lit up like a grinning raisin. "I suppose so. I'll need to find some holy mud, though, to make it official."
"He can't do that," Kelly protested before turning to me. "Can he?"
This was getting out of hand. I took my co-leader's side, mostly out of self-preservation. "I'd say he's way out of his jurisdiction."
Roger must've understood my gist because he seemed to grow pale—possibly at the idea that he might have to go stay at a hotel. "Of course, I'll have to give it some meaningful contemplation. And ask the goat. It's really up to him."
The door to Hilly's room flew open and banged against the wall. A large ostrich, presumably Oswald, came trotting down the hallway. He stopped when he came to the girls before looking at Lauren expectantly.
"Oh fine," she sighed. "But not the Thin Mints. You know that upsets your tummy."
Oswald seemed to nod, which was more than Kelly or I could do at the sight of this giant, flightless bird. Then he walked over to the cookies and began guzzling them down.
It took a while to get Lauren and the girls to agree to the terms of never bringing an animal out of the zoo. They kept adding amendments like but it's okay to let them out if the zoo is on fire…if Mrs. Wrath's life was in danger…or so they could participate in the Dragon's Fire Chili Cookoff. It was hard to disagree with the first two, but when Lauren said only carnivores would be let out for the chili cookoff since there was meat, Kelly shut the whole thing down.
After reassuring Dr. Wulf over the phone that the girls were sorry, I then had to ask her to come pick up Oswald. She didn't seem happy about that.
I also asked her to check on the ocelot before she left.
The meeting ended with lanyard making. Except for Ava, who I pulled aside for a discreet conversation.
"Do you know what else Vernon Croyer was doing in town?" I asked in a hushed voice.
"I can't believe my date was murdered," the girl sighed.
"He wasn't your date, and if anyone asks, you will deny it," I insisted. "When I talked to him, he said he had other business in Who's There. Did he tell you about that?"
She shook her head. "No, he mostly cried and pleaded with me not to say I was his date for the middle school dance." Her eyebrows went up. "His old job must be up for grabs! Dang it! I wanted to wait until after college to go for it!"
"He didn't say anything about anyone else in town?" I pressed her.
The mayor thought for a moment. "He did say something. What was it?"
Betty inserted herself into the conversation. "Is this about the dead dude? Conrad heard him talking on the phone at the dance. He said something about that hermit guy just outside of town."
I straightened up. "What are you talking about? We don't have a hermit!"
"It's like you don't know anything about Who's There." Betty shook her head. "Howey the Hermit. He lives in a cave on our farm."
I had no idea there was a hermit. Let alone one who lived on the farm the girls bought for their pony a year ago.
"How long has he been there?" I asked.
"About twenty years, I think," Betty said. "A long time. When we bought the place, we were told he just sorta came with it. Conrad asked me what it meant after he heard it. Of course, then all that stuff happened at the dance, so I wasn't able to explain it to him."
"I want to meet him," I insisted. "Howey… I want to meet him."
Betty looked at her watch. "It's dinnertime, but okay. I'll take you."
"Did you say there's a hermit?" Roger called out from the couch, where he'd been since his first appearance. "Can I go? It's my job to bless hermits!"
"It is?" I doubted it.
"Oh sure. There are lots of them around Blasto Blasto. They get together once a week for a potluck. Of course the food is always bad since they live in holes in the ground or caves and don't have proper kitchens." He thought for a moment. "Or grocery stores."
"I need to talk to Howey about the case," I said. "Maybe another time."
Roger's face fell. He pouted. "Please? Please please please please please…"
I held up a hand to silence him. "Okay! You can go with. Just don't talk to him until after he's answered my questions, okay?"
This seemed to appease the Holy Mud Man. As the meeting died down and I was gifted dozens of lanyards, Betty called her parents to say I'd be dropping her off.
"Yeah. Mrs. Wrath wants to meet the hermit," she said into her phone. "You don't have to hold dinner for me. Mrs. Wrath is taking me to Oleo's after."
I was?
Roger held up one finger. "Me too!" He turned to Hilly. "Want to come? Merry's buying."
Now hold on a minute…
"Nah," Hilly said. "I've got to finish with my guns. And tonight there's a Chilean documentary about dumpsters I've been meaning to watch."
I looked at Kelly, who explained she had a PTA committee to go to.
A Girl Scout, a Holy Mud Man, and a CIA agent go to see a hermit… It sounds like the beginning to a great joke, right?
Howey the Hermit's home was at the very edge of the farm. Since the area was hilly, it took a while to find it.
"That's not a cave." I pointed to a hill with a large, round door attached to the front. "Does he live inside it?"
Betty didn't answer. She walked up to the strange door and knocked.
A man with curly hair and slightly pointed ears opened the door. He was wearing a white shirt with a bright-green vest and pants. His feet were bare, but you could see that hair had been taped on them in an attempt at authenticity.
"Visitors!" Howey clapped his hands. "This is nice! Come in! I'll make tea!"
We followed him into what appeared to be an exact replica of Bilbo Baggins' hobbit house in the Lord of the Rings movie.
Betty introduced everyone, and Howey led us to a living room, where we sat in elaborately carved wooden chairs.
I looked around. "So, you're a hermit?"
Howey laughed. "I'm a hobbit. I suppose you could say I'm a hermit since there aren't any other hobbits in the neighborhood."
Or the US. But I didn't say that. "And you've lived here for twenty years?"
"Well…" He looked sheepish. "Eighteen of those were in town. "I was a yoga teacher at the gym. But I got so tired of the rat race…all that stress and pressure, that I just decided on a simple life and became a hobbit. Seriously, I don't know why more people don't become hobbits. It's such a relaxing lifestyle!"
"Yoga was too stressful?" I was having a hard time getting my head around this.
He made a face. "Oh sure! I had to teach one class a day! Can you imagine?"
No, I could not.
"You have a very interesting home!" Roger said enthusiastically. "You should come to Chechnya and show the other hermits how to do this!"
"Oh," he said. "I don't do that. I never leave. You know…hermit!" He gasped. "Oh no! Where are my manners? I'll get you some tea and biscuits!" He bounced out of the room.
"He's a very happy hermit," Roger mused. "That hasn't been my experience. Good for him for leaving the stress of a high-powered job behind!"
"So…" I leaned forward and lowered my voice. "Is he a hobbit or a hermit?"
"Why can't he be both?" Betty narrowed her eyes.
"The hermits back home are very angry," Roger continued his earlier rant. "Most of them leave stressful jobs too, like goat feeder, mud gatherer, grass raker, or financial-planning advisor."
"I wonder what he and Vernon Croyer had to do with each other," I thought out loud. "Was he selling Howey insurance?"
I couldn't imagine him wasting his time pursuing Howey. Or was something else going on here? I mean, come on. Howey was way too happy to be a hermit. Betty had gotten the number of years he'd lived here wrong. Maybe he still spent time in town as well as here. As if the hobbit house was a sort of retreat?
"Here you go!" Howey returned with a teapot, teacups and saucers, and a platter of cookies. "Help yourselves!"
We did. The tea was hot, and the cookies appeared to have just come out of the oven.
"So, to what do I owe this visit to? Are you interested in the hobbit lifestyle? Are you hobbit curious?" He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that I felt was a bit suggestive.
"Actually," I said as I put down my tea. "I was talking to an acquaintance, and he mentioned you."
"Really?" That seemed to get Howey's interest. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. There are more people than you realize who are considering becoming a hobbit. More in the summer, since a hobbit house is basically tornado-proof. Who was it?"
"Vernon Croyer," I said simply and sat back to gauge his reaction.
"Oh." The hobbit frowned. "Him. Why were you talking to that nasty orc?"
"Vernon's an orc?" Betty leaned in, perhaps interested for the first time.
"Sadly, no. Or my sword, Sting, would turn blue when he came around. I just think of villains that way."
Now that was interesting. Howey was implying that Vernon had come around. Had he been here before he was murdered?
"Why do you think of him as a villain?" I asked. It was interesting that Howey didn't seem to know about the murder. Or maybe it wasn't. I wasn't sure how hobbits got their news.
"Um…" Howey said in a high-pitched voice as he looked around the room. "No reason, really. He just tried to sell me insurance on my home. I told him that Gandalf the Grey was looking after me, but he really pushed. That's it. Nothing more sinister or weird." He pulled a pocket watch out of his vest pocket and replaced it again. "I'm sorry. I really have to dash. Busy hobbit and all that."
What did he have to do besides lying to us and avoiding our questions?
"Thank you for the tea and biscuits!" Roger reached out to take Howey's hand and shook it limply.
Howey made gestures that implied he was herding us toward the door. It seemed a bit rude for a hobbit. We all said goodbye and went back to the van.
"He's lying about something," Betty said from the back seat. "Isn't he?"
"I'm pretty sure he is," I replied.
The question was, why? If he didn't like Vernon for the reason he said, why was Vernon pushing for the hobbit to insure his house? What did it matter to the insurance CEO? I was sure Howey had been lying to us about something.
Had the hobbit killed Vernon? Was he technically savvy enough to produce the deepfake video? For all we know, the guy could be the next George Lucas. And yet, with his hermit-like lifestyle, he could be completely off the grid. In fact, I didn't remember seeing any modern technology, like a TV, computer, or even a radio.
At this point, we had three suspects. Milt Ronson, the man who hated Tall Corn State Insurance and most likely, Vernon Croyer too. Eddie Nixon, the woman who couldn't wait for Croyer to be out of the way so she could take his place as CEO. And Howey the Hobbit, who believed Croyer was a bad guy for pressing him to insure his hobbit house.
All three had some sort of motive, albeit Howey's, if that was all there was to it, was kind of weak. Still, people had killed for less, so I wasn't ruling him out. All three could've had the opportunity, in that two of them lived in town and one probably knew what was in his appointment book.
And then there was the widow, who we hadn't met with yet. We didn't know anything about her or their marriage, but I was going to add her to the list because, while it hasn't always been my experience, Rex says it's usually the spouse. That was four suspects in total. Now all we had to do was narrow them down to the one who killed Vernon and implicated me.
But first, I had to see a dred demi demon about a dragon…