Not talking to my husband all night because he hadn't told me what he knew about Hilly allowed me to think about the case and not feel bad for not updating him. I needed to start ruling suspects out. And the next morning, I decided on my first target.
I walked to my van to see the Holy Mud Man sitting on a bench we had by the driveway.
"I've got to go, Roger," I sighed. "I don't have time to take you on a condiment run. I'm off to visit Howey."
"You're going to see the Hobbit?" Roger seemed excited by the idea.
Correction—I was going, hoping the hobbit wasn't there, so I could break in.
"Yes" was all I replied.
He pushed on his knees and groaned as he stood up. "Can I take Warren?"
This didn't seem like an unusual request, since he always assumed I'd take him somewhere, buy him groceries, live in my house forever…
"I didn't invite you to go," I started to say as he crept around the front of the van.
Roger opened the door and slowly got in. "So no to the goat. Okay." He looked at me while I stared at him meaningfully in hopes he'd get the message. "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"
I realized I had no choice. Oh well. Maybe Roger could be a lookout while I broke in. I wasn't entirely sure Howey wasn't home, so maybe Roger could be a distraction while I claimed to look for the bathroom. It dawned on me that this might be the only way the Holy Mud Man could pay me back, since he obviously wasn't planning to do so.
We pulled up out front of the hobbit house. There wasn't any activity outside. No one was gardening, although the flower display was spectacular. I helped Roger out of the van and went to the large round door and knocked.
"He has Puffy Yellow Heads!" Roger squealed.
I looked at what he was talking about. "You mean the dandelions? Everyone has them. They're a weed."
Roger gave me a thunderous look that the wrinkles made appear more menacing. "No, they are Puffy Yellow Heads. A very rare flower with potent magical properties."
I waved at the dandelion-studded hillside around me. "There are literally millions of them in Who's There alone. I think people make wine out of them sometimes, but they're a weed we usually try to kill off."
Roger threw himself protectively in front of the weed he'd been admiring as if I was about to gun them down. "These are a protected flower back home! They are used to cure warts, splinters, and to help when your goat starts to bark like a dog!"
"Yes," I said as I knocked on the door again. "Sounds like it's very valuable."
Roger joined me once he realized I wasn't a threat to the plants. "Have you ever heard a goat bark like a dog? It's very disturbing."
I didn't respond but knocked one more time. There was no answer. "Looks like he's not home."
The house was embedded in a hill, which meant no windows I could sneak out of Roger's line of vision. That meant the front door. I tried the knob. It was unlocked.
"I'd better go see if he's alright," I lied. "You should start harvesting those valuable plants, just in case Warren becomes afflicted. There's a paper bag in the van."
"Good idea." Roger nodded enthusiastically. "I knew you'd see it my way."
"Yup. We certainly don't want any of those things to happen."
I pushed the door open and slipped inside. "Howey?" I called out so Roger would hear. "Howey? Are you home?"
No one answered. I went into the living room and began having a look around.
The door popped open, and Roger stuck his head inside. "Do you think he'd mind if I collected these too? They stop people from seeing ghosts of Big Ankle."
Big Ankle was the Chechen version of Big Foot. Roger was holding a clump of clover.
"The three-leaf ones are very lucky!" He grimaced. "I don't want the four-leaf ones though. Those are bad luck."
"I'm sure he won't mind," I said. "Get as much as you can."
Hopefully, the Holy Mud Man would spend a lot of time combing for the unlucky four-leaf clovers and I'd have more time in here. This had the added benefit of him stalling Howey with his nonsensical babble should the hobbit return before I was finished.
I was looking for an appointment book, if hobbits kept such a thing. Just off the tidy living room was a small study, with a little wooden desk holding a quill and inkwell and a small stack of mail. I was tempted by a drawer and pulled it open. Inside was a very elaborate, leather-bound book that read To There And Back, by Bilbo Baggins. It was the same book from the Lord of the Rings movies, and I opened it.
Yay! It was a calendar. Everything was handwritten in calligraphy pen and ink, and the days of the week were clearly marked. I paged back to the day I wanted. And in between things like, Visit Elrond in the Vale and Plan Vacation to Mordor, was Orc Appointment, scheduled for half an hour before Vernon met his untimely death.
I couldn't just take the book, like they do on the British mysteries I binge regularly. But I took a picture of it and carefully replaced it, just in time to hear a creaking sound somewhere in the house. I followed the sound to a warm, cozy kitchen, where a very tall man in a gray robe and hat sat rocking in a chair that was too small for him. He was smoking a pipe and startled when he spotted me.
"Hello!" he called out a bit too cheerfully as he jumped out of the chair, banged his head on a ceiling beam, before dumping the contents of the pipe into the fireplace. "I didn't know anyone was in here." He stood up carefully, his eyes darting to the ashes. "Please don't tell Howey. He doesn't like me smoking in the house."
"I won't!" I agreed. "I came in looking for Howey and heard the rocking chair. He's not here, then?"
The man, who had to be six foot six inches in height, looked around. "Nope. I don't see him." He held out his hand. "I'm Gandalf the Grey."
Of course he was. "I'm Merry Ferguson." I shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."
Gandalf stood there, awkwardly blinking. "I'm a wizard."
I nodded. "I believe you."
"I'm really not a wizard. I'm an immortal spirit from Valinor." He smiled weakly. "I'm one of the Maiar."
I wasn't sure what to say to that. "Congratulations."
He once again looked longingly at the ash in the fireplace. "Most people don't know that. They think I'm just a wizard."
"Okay," I said slowly. "Maybe we should go outside to wait for Howey."
Gandalf didn't budge. "It's a common misconception. The movies don't fully explain it. It's why I can die in the Lord of the Rings and come back as Gandalf the White."
"I can honestly say I didn't know that. Thank you for letting me know." Maybe I could get some information out of the strange and awkward man. "Do you live here too?"
The wizard, or whatever he was, laughed. "No! Of course I don't live here! I'm just visiting!"
"Where do you live, then?" I didn't remember seeing anyone so tall living in town.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "No one knows. It's never really mentioned. But I'd like to think I live inside a tree or something."
There was a long pause. "Do you live inside a tree?" I asked.
"No. I live with my mom in Bladdersly." The man blushed. "She dropped me off half an hour ago because she has a doctor's appointment in Who's There." He smiled at me as if I'd asked for all of this information.
Just then, I heard Roger talking outside. Gandalf and I joined him and Howey, who was smiling politely as the Holy Mud Man was describing the effects clover had on gonorrhea.
He startled when he saw me come out of his home.
"Sorry." I put on my most apologetic look. "We stopped by to see you. The door was unlocked, so I went inside, where I met Gandalf. I hope you don't mind."
Howey's face relaxed, but there remained a look of suspicion in his eyes. "That's fine. What did you come here for?"
The gray wizard spoke up. "Mom dropped me off because she had to go to a doctor's appointment. I was not smoking in the kitchen."
The hobbit pointed at me. "No, I know why you're here, but I was asking her."
To break in and check your appointment book. "Roger had admired your garden for its religious and medicinal purposes. He wanted to have a closer look. We hoped you'd be home."
Roger gave nothing away. He smiled and nodded. "Yes! There are many plants I'm not familiar with, and I wanted to know more."
Howey became very animated. "It's a hobbit's job to know that flowers can do more than just look pretty! Let me show you my delphiniums!"
He started to lead Roger away. The holy man looked back at me and winked..Awesome! Gandalf looked awkwardly from me to the others and, after a brief hesitation, decided to follow Howey.
As the three men wandered the garden, I sat down in a wooden chair and thought about what I'd found. The fact that the hobbit had met up with the dead insurance CEO only thirty minutes before his murder placed him at the scene of the crime. Where had they met? It had to be close by since Vernon was at city hall in time to be murdered by someone other than me.
Could they have met up for coffee? It had to be someplace in town because I didn't think Vernon could've held a meeting and driven from here to there in thirty minutes.
The wizard, hobbit, and Holy Mud Man went behind the hill, where Howey wanted to show Roger where he was growing daisies to get full sun. A thought occurred to me, so I slipped back into the house and ran back to the desk. The mail still sat there, and I whipped through it quickly.
All of the letters had been addressed to Ian Howard. Ah. So that's where he got the name Howey. The letters included personal mail from people around the country, most likely others in the hobbit lifestyle since they were all addressed in calligraphy.
There were two business pieces of mail. One was from the county, and one was from Tall Corn State Insurance Company. Neither one was opened, and I didn't think I'd have time to unseal them and seal them back up so my intrusion wouldn't be noticed. Instead, I went back to the door and went outside.
The trio wasn't around, but their voices carried from the back of the house. I returned to my chair and texted Kelly to look up Ian Howard to see what she could find out about the man. After a few minutes, they returned. Before they got to me, I took some photos of a butterfly sitting on a bee balm flower.
"I get a lot of butterflies," Howey said when he spotted me. "And bees. I'm thinking of starting a beehive for honey." He turned to Roger. "Honey has antibiotic properties. And it's great on bread."
Roger nodded as if he knew this. "I am in awe of your garden!" He turned to me. "Howey tells me that Puffy Yellow Heads are considered a weed here! Why didn't you tell me?"
Was he bluffing? Or merely forgetful?
"Must've slipped my mind," I said. "I've always liked them. They seem so cheerful."
"They have lots of health properties," Howey said. "Antioxidant, Vitamin K, and the bees love them. You should never use pesticides on dandelions."
I made a move for the van. "I'll keep that in mind. Roger, we have to go. I've got a dentist appointment I don't want to be late for."
Roger shook Howey's hand and thanked him and said goodbye to Gandalf. Then he hobbled over to my car with a sort of geriatric spring in his step. Was I imagining it, or did he seem younger since he'd gotten here? I started up the van and drove down the road.
"Did you find anything?" Roger asked. "I figure I can be your Inglethorpe."
I looked at him. "Inglethorpe?"
His eyes opened wide. "It's a famous mystery series back home. Holmes and Inglethorpe. You know, Sherlock Holmes."
It took everything I had not to respond sarcastically. "I know who Sherlock Holmes is, but his sidekick is Dr. Watson."
He scoffed. "It is not! It's Reginald Inglethorpe! Everyone knows that."
This wasn't worth fighting over. And I wanted him to know I was grateful for his assistance. "Whatever. Thanks for covering for me back there."
"No problem." He pulled a pink flower from the depths of his cassock and sniffed it. "I figure since I'm going to be staying here for some time, I should help out where I can."
"Some time?" My eyebrows went up. "Has that been determined?"
"Oh yes! Hilly's been taking me over to see the babies, and the more I spend time with them, the more likely it is they are prophets." He smiled. "Since the mothers won't let me take them back home, I'm going to do all their training here!"
"Then, it's confirmed?" I still wasn't sure how I felt about having prophets for nephews.
"It is! Well, except for the paperwork I have to send back home." Roger thought to himself for a moment before asking, "You don't happen to have any sheepskin and the blood of heretics ink do you?"
"Fresh out, I'm afraid."
"Being Inglethorpe to your Holmes will allow me to spend more time studying you to determine if you're the Great Pook Snork." He frowned. "I'm afraid that takes more time and effort."
"You don't have to. I don't really want to be the Great Pook Snork."
He nodded. "I don't blame you. There's so much responsibility, and you have to pay for the honor."
On top of his living expenses? "Then I really don't want the honor. I'm calling you off. Withdrawing from consideration."
"If only it were that simple. I totally understand. I really do. But this isn't something you have any say over. It's like being king. Or grand master goat herder."
"I do have a say over my life," I groused. "You can't make me be a Pook Snork."
Roger shrugged. "You don't have a choice, I'm afraid."
My curiosity got the best of me. "What are these responsibilities?"
"You have to answer the call anytime a goat feels like an injustice has been committed against them. Although that's just in Chechnya. You aren't responsible for goats all over the world." He started to laugh. "Because that would be crazy!"
"Oh, well, why didn't you just say so," I said sarcastically. "If that's all…"
"And you don't have to service all the goats in Chechnya. Just your region of Blasto Blasto. There are other Great Pook Snorks to handle the other regions."
"Even better." I rolled my eyes. "Wait, I wouldn't be the only Pook Snork?"
He shook his head. "Of course not! There will be fifty-eight others. There's a conference in Vegas every year. I hear it's nice. They stay at the Bellagio."
That didn't seem too bad, except for the fact I'd be spending all my time with other Pook Snorks. I wondered what kind of workshops they had?
"But you do have to pay for the privilege. It's fifty thousand roubles a year." He nodded solemnly. "That's a lot."
Once again, I converted rubles into dollars. "So about five hundred dollars a year. That doesn't sound too bad…" What was I thinking? "But when I refuse to pay it?"
Roger grew pale. "Then the Gobbledyskank comes to get you." He shuddered. "You wouldn't want that to happen. He will fly here on giant wings and eat all of your Puffy Yellow Heads!"
"We wouldn't want that. Look, how do I get out of this thing? I've got a Girl Scout troop. I can't fly to Blasto Blasto at the drop of a hat just because a goat doesn't like something."
"Well, you can't fly to Blasto Blasto," Roger corrected. "You have to take a flight to Grozny and then take a goat cart for two days, which might cause the goats to summon you anyway because they really don't like hauling carts."
I pulled into my driveway. "Look, I don't want to do it. It might…" I thought hard. "Conflict with my job as the Bird Goddess for the Cult of NicoDerm. You wouldn't want that."
He was quiet for a few moments and then brightened. "You could always bribe me to drop it!"
"There ya go!" I smacked my hand on the dashboard. "That's all you need to say. I can bribe you to declare I'm not the Pook Snork! What would that run, do you think?"
"Hulu streaming," he said seriously. "A lifetime supply of Lucky Charms, and one hundred Puffy Yellow Heads."
"I'll take it!" I thought I got off pretty easy.
"And then," he continued. "You'd of course have to fake your death."
Wait, what?
"Or you could bribe Wally and Azlan to undeclare you the Great Pook Snork."
"Bribe two infants? How would I do that exactly?"
He shrugged. "It's hard to say since you have to wait until they can reason such a thing. And of course until they can talk and tell you what they want."
"Has that ever happened?"
"Oh sure. The Great Pook Snork of Grozny had to buy his prophet a bucket of snail mucin." Roger leaned toward me conspiratorially. "It was gross, but he had the smoothest skin after that."
I figured I was going to spoil my nephews anyway. I couldn't think of anything they would want me to do that would be repulsive. Well, except for being their Boy Scout leader, but that was a long way off, and I figure I could get Rex to do that.