polite bow. "It is with much pleasure that I see you so early in the morning. I was just on my way to breakfast. Will you join me?"
"No." She cut right to the point. "You look worried. Why?"
Herbert shook his head. "I've just been by to talk to Franklin. No Eagle yet. It just doesn't make sense. He's been in that building for over two days now. A man cannot simply disappear."
Auntie Lil thought of the back fire escapes and wondered. But why would The Eagle bother to sneak out the back when their surveillance of the building was a secret?
"The police were there yesterday afternoon," Herbert added. Auntie Lil smiled grimly. At least Detective Santos considered her suggestions more seriously than that awful Lieutenant Abromowitz.
"What happened?"
The retired messenger shrugged unhappily. "Two uniformed men entered and stayed several hours. They left alone. It is very puzzling. I stayed quite late last night, watching the building carefully. No sign of The Eagle at all. Franklin is over there now. And who knows how many of those crazy ladies are wandering about beseeching strangers and wearing disguises? Now they've all taken to dressing like bag ladies and popping up just when you least expect them the most. It is like being trapped in an opera out of control."
Auntie Lil had been keeping an eye on the street and spotted the stout figure the instant it emerged into sight, headed for St. Barnabas.
"Get back," she hissed at Herbert, dragging him further into the shadows of the doorway. They peeked across the street together and watched as Fran, her face hidden, pulled a key from her pocketbook and quickly entered through the basement door.
"Don't you think it's a bit early for volunteering?" she asked ominously. "I never arrived until noon." Herbert checked his watch in reply. It was just before ten o'clock in the morning.
"Why do you think she is here so early?" he wondered aloud.
"Now look what's happening," Auntie Lil whispered in excitement.
The main entrance to St. Barnabas opened slowly, the large wooden doors swinging out with medieval ponderousness. Father Stebbins stepped into a small pool of sunshine that spotlighted the top step. He blinked in the daylight and looked behind him. A small figure stepped into view and stood beside the priest, its nearly white hair gleaming in the autumn sunlight. Together, they searched the sidewalks in both directions, then the priest nodded slowly and unlocked the folding metal gate that blocked the steps from the street. The small figure squeezed through the small opening and took off running lightly, his sneaker-clad feet skimming over the sidewalk with ease.
"That's Timmy!" Auntie Lil hissed. "What's he doing with Father Stebbins?"
Herbert Wong was silent. He was a Buddhist and lacked Auntie Lil's ingrained reverence for Catholic priests. He had plenty of ideas that would account for Timmy's presence. Including none that he cared to share with Auntie Lil.
"I must be going," he told her as they watched Father Stebbins relock the gate. Both noticed that the priest seemed troubled. His face sagged and he was shaking his head sadly as he disappeared back inside the church.
"He did not see Miss Fran," Herbert observed. "I wonder what she is doing down there in the basement all alone?"
"She may not be in the basement," Auntie Lil explained. "There's a door in the basement that opens into the church from the inside. For all we know, they're playing tag up and down the steps right now."
"Not tag," Herbert said solemnly.
"Quite right. The game is much more serious than that."
"I must obtain Franklin's Egg McMuffin and return to my post across from Miss Emily's building," the retired messenger announced. "Franklin is due at the Salvation Army at half past. They have some large clothes in and he would like a new outfit."
"He is a huge man," Auntie Lil admitted. "I dare say his size may come in handy someday."
"Let us hope not," Herbert observed. He left, whistling, and headed down the street towards Times Square. A crisp morning and sudden sunshine often had that effect on Herbert—it warmed his soul and made him happy, regardless of the sad task that occupied him at the moment. Herbert was a philosopher and a man at peace with himself. He did not find happiness and sorrow incompatible at all.
Auntie Lil stayed put. She was stubborn and wildly curious. Not even the thought of black coffee distracted her from her scrutiny. This dedication was rewarded barely a half hour later, when the