The Magic Misfits - Neil Patrick Harris Page 0,30
Izzy said together.
Ridley examined the other box. “KAK.” She felt a shiver shoot from the top of her head to her shoulders and then down her arms. “Kilroy A. Kalagan.” The lamp on Ridley’s chair flickered. “Is there anything else down there?” she asked, nodding at the hole in the fire pit.
Carter checked. “Doesn’t look like it.”
“Good. Then let’s get out of here. This place is creeping me out.”
The group made their way back to the main lodge, stopping near the groundskeeper’s shed to return the shovel Carter had borrowed. The porch light from the Grand Oak’s side entry filtered past them, making Ridley feel safe. Or safer than she’d felt out by the clearing.
“What does all of this mean?” asked Theo, the oilcloth clenched in one fist. “The name that Dean gave us led to these new puzzle boxes. The rude guest. His anagram name. Was it a clue sent to us by Kalagan? Or maybe someone else?”
Ridley ran her fingers over the engravings on the boxes in her lap. Lines swooped and swirled in haphazard shapes. “Would you all mind bringing your puzzles boxes out here? I want to examine them.”
“Mine is back home,” said Theo.
“That’s fine,” said Ridley. “We can get that one later.”
Carter, Leila, Olly, and Izzy went up to their rooms as Theo and Ridley waited silently in the lounge, tucked behind the large leaves of several elephant ear plants. Minutes later, the other Misfits returned, puzzle boxes in hand.
“They’re like the heads of the Darling Daniel dolls,” said Ridley, tapping on them. Hollow. “Maybe I should break them open.”
“And what if there is something delicate inside?” Theo asked. “Or something dangerous. Chemicals? Powder that could make us sick?”
“I’ll put on protective gear,” said Ridley. “I’ve got plenty back at my lab.”
“I’m with Theo,” Leila said. “There’s got to be another way.”
“Yeah,” Carter agreed. “They’re puzzle boxes after all. Besides, I don’t want anyone to smash something that belonged to my father.”
Ridley felt her temper flare but doused it quickly. She had a recent experience with people smashing her possessions, so she understood how Carter must feel. After a moment, she said, “Okay. I’m with Theo too.”
“You are?” asked Izzy.
“Are you?” Olly echoed, although in a slightly different order.
“Really?” Theo asked, looking truly shocked.
“Really,” Ridley went on. “You asked, ‘What does all of this mean?’ And that’s what we need to find out. Our next best option is to go back and talk to Dean. Maybe he can get a little bit more out of Fred P. Tithe’s records. A payment method. An address. A phone number. Even if Tithe is a made-up name, someone had to do the making up. Right?”
The others agreed.
Smiling, Ridley added, “And afterward, I can take the boxes home and see if I can solve their puzzle.”
To her surprise, they agreed with that too.
When Ridley scanned the lobby, Dean was nowhere to be found. Quinn had returned to the concierge desk, so Ridley approached her instead. Quinn’s freckles made her appear kind, which was a good thing, since her job was about helping befuddled guests order taxis and get directions and make dinner reservations and book tickets for all sorts of events down in the village. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which poked out from underneath her hotel uniform’s cap. “Ridley Larsen!” she said. “It’s been a long time!”
“Hi, Quinn. How’re things?”
“Peachy keen and served with cream.”
Ridley glanced around the lobby again. “Say, you didn’t see where Dean went off to, did you?”
Quinn frowned. “I did not. Is there something I can help you with this evening?”
“Maybe,” Ridley answered, thinking quickly how to navigate everything she needed to keep secret. “Earlier, Dean was able to track down the name of a guest who’d been staying in room 412. Fred Tithe. I had a question for Mr. Tithe regarding this project I’m working on, and I was wondering if you might be able to tell me how I can contact him? Or maybe you could contact him for me. I know it’s a lot to ask… but it’s important.”
Quinn looked puzzled for a moment, then said, “Hold on a sec.” She hurried off to the front desk. Ridley followed. Quinn picked around in what looked like a box of receipts. Then she pulled a large notebook out from under the desk and pawed through it. After a few seconds, she shook her head. “You said the name was Tithe?” Quinn asked. Ridley nodded, her skin going cold.