“So you’ve been writing letters, young Lupe, you pixie-sized imp.”
I should probably explain that I had no intention of wounding the child. There is no better quality in the 12-and-under class than this little mischief-maker and, being my god-niece, she's one of the few inmates of the Village that I look forward to seeing on those occasions that I’m prevented from staying away.
“I write my mom once a week when she’s traveling,” said the Lupe.
“That’s not the kind of letter I’m talking about and you know it,” I said, adding emphasis on the last few words. I know her tactics, you see, and I wasn’t about to let her wiggle away from the intended subject. “I’m talking about the letter that’s been floating around with all the hallmarks of one of your magical spells.”
“Runes, you mean?”
“Not runes! Let’s not continue with attempted diversions, please. This is a serious overturn of the natural order that you’ve instigated and it must stop it now!”
“Why,” she asked.
“Because if it doesn't stop soon, the village curse will awaken and slither from the muck at the bottom of Lake Jordan to come make my life a living hell.”
“Jordan Lake,” she said.
I decided to appeal to her finer nature, if any, and so I said, “Lupe, please! I need your help. Will you rally round or not?“
“What curse?” she asked.
“Oh, why do you insist on making this so difficult? You know the curse. The aunt’s curse. Every time I visit this lunatic asylum, I suffer the effects of one of Fate’s practical jokes. The place becomes unfit for human consumption, especially this human.”
“But I live for those times,” she said, with a bright smile spreading across her face. “Nothing fun ever happens in the Village unless you’re here. Even Vickie Mason says that it’s the worst assignment in North Carolina for a blue bottle who wants to advance through the ranks. She has nothing to do.”
I raised a hand to quiet the little urchin. “Just one minute, young Lupe. Let’s stay on topic from now on but just for the nonce, explain to me what Vickie Mason has to do with this. And before you answer, let me assure you that we are going to get right back to that love letter. I’m too familiar with your tactics of diversion and obfuscation to fall for any of your tricks and, yes, I recognize that blue bottle remark as a diversion. Now—about Mason. What’s the story?”
“What does obfuscation mean?”
“Deliberately causing confusion. What about Mason?”
“She’s the new head of security.”
“Head of security?” I said. “What security?”
She laughed at the question. A full-throated, head-thrown-back laugh. “I know. Stupid right?” She shook the topknot and then continued, ”Uncle Gus decided the Village should have a security force to make the visitors feel safe. All the off-duty guides work as security guards and Vickie is the Chief.”
“But nothing here needs guarding. What’s the old boy thinking? Has he finally lost it?”
“The don’t guard. What they really do is answer visitor questions, give directions, run errands, that kind of thing. Mobile phone service sucks in the Village and the girl guides deliver messages for people.”
“But why would Vickie leave the county sheriff’s office and take a job like that?”
“Well, she says she took the job to have a better crack at pinching you.”
I marveled. I admit this took me by surprise and yet I was certain—the butterflies in the gut were certain—that the young geezer had hit the nail squarely on the head. Wham! Bam! Mason planed to set a trap for yours truly.
“You see, Lupe,” I said, “this is just the kind of thing I’m talking about when I speak of the curse. Mason simply can’t accept that I’m an innocent man. She has a vendetta against me. It goes all the way back to high school and that unfortunate incident involving underwear and flagpoles. No one should have to endure the level of persecution that’s directed toward me by that rural scourge.”
“Innocent? asked the shrimp. “Did you say innocent?”
“Innocent is what I said,” I said.
“But you burned down the girl guides dormitory.”
“Oh, my sainted aunt!” I said. “Are people still talking about that? Isn’t there a statute of limitations around here?”
“It only happened last Christmas,” she said.
“Exactly!” I said. “And I’ve explained at least a thousand times that it was not my fault. I had no other choice. You would have done the same if you had been at the scene, knowing that Mason and the rest of the sheriff’s deputies were going to arrive any minute. There was no time to phone Two Men and a Truck. I had to burn the place down to hide the evidence.”
“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a wad,” she said, using one of Aunt Maggie’s trademark quips. “May Day Festival is only a few days away. Everyone is busy getting ready for it. Mason won’t have time to mess with you. And then barely able to contain the laughter, "She’s got to plan security.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” I said. “I hope so because Gwyn called me down here to do a little something for her and I don’t want any distractions.”
“Hmmm,” she said. “You’re going to have to devote all your attention to that little job,” she said, and she said it with a sort of solemness that caused the temperature in the room to rise.
“Oh, you know about the favor then? I hope it’s not another one of those harebrained schemes that only she can devise. I have enough black marks on my record resulting from the last favor she asked.”
"Why don't you just say no when she asks?"
"It's complicated," I said. "We have history."
"Oh," she said, "you mean it's like blackmail."
"Isn't it?" I said and I meant every word.
“Don’t worry,” said Lupe. “It’s not a big deal. You can do it standing on your head.”
“That’s reassuring,” I said. “What is it she wants anyway?”
“She wants you to slip into Alan’s room at the Inn and steal a ring.”
