George shrugged. “It depends. There are some people who leave their networks open on purpose, just to encourage free traffic on the Net. But hacking definitely breaks the law. I wouldn’t hack into someone’s system unless it was absolutely necessary. However, I did write a program that lets me ‘sniff’ around other people’s computers—I’ve used it to help you solve cases before.”
“I don’t want to know the details,” I protested, getting a distinctly uncomfortable feeling that any kind of hacking by anyone other than the government was breaking the law.
“You wouldn’t understand them anyway. But just by hitting this key sequence I can get there.”
“It’s my phone number!”
George grinned. “Clever, isn’t it?” She punched in her password.
“Hey, could I get on there for a minute?” I asked.
“Sure,” George said, handing me the computer. I went online to check out Nathan Blackman. The search engine quickly led me to his fairly sophisticated website.
“Who would have guessed?” George remarked as she looked over my shoulder at the screen. “He’s a real science fiction writer.”
“Published by some pretty decent houses, too,” I noted. He had a few good reviews, but there wasn’t much personal information on him. I scanned the list of his titles. “All his books are about UFOs, George. And aliens.” I scrolled down further. “Here’s one called The Roswell Hoax. ”
George looked thoughtful. “To write that,” she said, “he’d have to investigate the how-to of hoaxes.” She tapped the screen with her finger. “But look: This guy prefers to write on an old 1940s Underwood typewriter rather than a computer. It sure doesn’t sound like he has the ability to fake the sightings, Nancy.”
“He could always be in cahoots with someone else who had the technical know-how to fake sightings.”
“But who?” George asked.
“Someone else who would benefit from the publicity,” I answered.
George chuckled as she shut down her computer. “That’s only about half the business owners in this town.” She frowned. “But seriously, if Blackman faked the sightings, how exactly did he do it? And who would have had the know-how to help?”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” I took my notebook out of my purse. I turned to the page where I’d copied down the info about UFOs that I’d googled the night before. “Apparently all you need is a helium balloon, a fishing rod, and a small flashlight. You turn the light on, put it inside the balloon, and inflate it with helium. Tie it with a long fishing line—”
“Sure, the plastic filament kind—that wouldn’t be visible,” George added.
“Right. I guess that’s attached to a fishing rod, so you can move it around. You hold it out the window of a car and move quite fast on a back road, and voila —glowing, floating spheres.”
“Wow, that’s pretty low-tech,” George commented. “Low-tech enough for Nathan to pull it off on his own.”
I went back to my notebook. “If you want it to crash, you can shoot it down with a BB gun. The whole idea can work on a bigger scale too, with a weather balloon—though you’d need more than one person to move an object that size.”
“What would be really cool is if you used one of those flashlights that you use in emergency work—the kind where the light pulses.”
I cracked up. “You’re not supposed to be inspired by all this.”
George winked. “Hey, it all could be fun.”
I checked over my notes. “Besides hoaxes, of course, there are genuine mistakes. For instance the government might be testing some new top secret aircraft. If people saw the craft when light hit it in a certain way, they would think it was a flying saucer.”
“And of course, officials would deny its existence,” George said. “Maybe that’s why the FBI is here. Maybe there’s no hoax, Nancy. Maybe it’s some kind of government cover-up.”
“Could be.”
“But you don’t think it’s likely,” George stated.
“Not likely, no.” I shrugged. “If they aren’t genuine space-ships, then I’m sure they’re part of some kind of scheme to benefit someone.”
“And you think that someone may be Nathan Blackman?”
I nodded. “But all I have is a hunch and no evidence.”
“Then our next step is to get some,” George declared.
We decided our first stop would be Winnie’s café, to see how she was doing. If the place was back in decent shape, and if Winnie could spare her, we’d pick up Bess.
Afterward we could go together to check out Nathan’s cabin. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to confront Nathan Blackman on my own in such a deserted place. If he happened to be home, so much the better; a conversation with the science fiction writer might give me a better idea of exactly what he was up to—if anything.
We left the inn, and within minutes we were back on Main Street. The entrance to the café parking lot was blocked by an idling minivan with no driver inside. I began grumbling about inconsiderate polluters who didn’t give a hoot about the environment, but I broke off when George spotted a parking space.
George and I got out of the car and were headed down the sidewalk when a woman’s shrill scream pierced the air.
“Up there!” she shrieked. “Up there!”
I looked up and shielded my eyes. Bands of gray clouds half-masked the afternoon sun, but the grayish sky was still bright.
After a second I spotted a slender disk hovering above Winnie’s café. First it hung suspended in silence over the café, and then it zoomed upward with a loud whooshing sound. The spacecraft suddenly shifted to one side, then U-turned back east and vanished in a flash of light.
“That’s the second daytime sighting. The first one I got on tape!” Izzy’s voice sounded out behind me. It was only then I realized that the whole time I was observing the UFO, a camera was panning around me and the crowd.
“What’s your reaction?” Izzy asked.
I braced myself to give some sort of noncommittal answer. As I turned, I saw her holding a microphone up to another onlooker. Maybe she’d given up on me.
I didn’t bother to listen to the man’s response. Instead I caught George’s eye and telegraphed that we should ditch Izzy while we had a chance.
We braved the crowd that had gathered, and gradually made our way to the café. Winnie was standing outside, and so were Joel and Mary Beth, the waiter. Where was Bess, though?
“Did you see that?” Winnie was clearly shaken. “It hovered right over the roof. I was scared to death that it would crash right into the building!”
“Winnie, it’s okay. The café’s okay. All that happened was the lights flickered,” Joel said, trying to calm her. But he looked upset too.
“Maybe we should just forget about dinner tonight and—”
“No,” Joel told her. “We’ve already done all the prep. You can’t waste the time or money, Winnie. We’ve got to tough this out tonight. Meanwhile, all the UFO did was rev up exposure for your restaurant. Let’s take advantage of it.”
Winnie slowly nodded, then opened the door and led us inside.
I took one look around and gasped.
The place looked great. A new batch of baked goods was displayed behind the freshly polished glass of the case. The tables were neatly set for the next meal. A few spots on the wall behind the counter were the only evidence that the place had been trashed the night before.
“Where’s Bess?” I asked as George unearthed the software CDs she’d brought for Winnie’s computer.
“Is she in the back?” George asked, coming out from behind the counter.
Winnie frowned. “I haven’t seen her since before the UFO sighting.” She headed Joel off as he passed by. “Have you seen Bess?” she asked him.
“Sure. She was right here a while ago.” He scratched his head. “Wasn’t she outside just now with the rest of us?”
“I didn’t notice,” Winnie admitted. “Maybe she’s still working on the back door.”
Joel shook his head. “She finished.” Then a lightbulb seemed to light up above him. “I know where she is. She went outside to put the trash in the Dumpster. She was probably in the alley when the UFO showed up.”
“I’ll go get her,” I volunteered. “You should get back to your cooking,” I told Joel. “Sounds like it’s going to be busy tonight!”
I walked down the short hallway leading to the back entrance. I pushed open the door and saw the Dumpster but no Bess. I called her name, but no one answered. Maybe when the UFO had turned up, she’d run up the alley to join the crowd on the sidewalk?
From where I stood I could see people still discussing the sighting. I had started toward them when I spotted a single red sneaker, stained with brown paint.
Even before I picked it up, I knew—it belonged to Bess.
Alien Abduction?
As I bent to pick up the sneaker, I caught sight of something glittering under the Dumpster. My heart leapt into my throat as I knelt down and pulled out a beaded glass bracelet. I recognized it at once as Bess’s latest purchase. No sooner had I retrieved it than Joel came out of the kitchen.
He immediately saw me kneeling on the ground. His eyes went from the bracelet in my right hand to the sneaker in my left. “Where’s Bess?” he asked, his face going pale.
Without stopping to answer, I jumped up and ran to the mouth of the alley. A trooper’s car was parked outside the restaurant, and half a dozen people were still gathered outside the café. Bess wasn’t one of them.
I hurried back into the alley. Joel was pacing aimlessly in front of the Dumpster. “I knew something like this might happen,” he cried, his voice pure panic.
“What do you mean?” I stepped right in front of him.
He stopped pacing. “They found her,” he said.
They? It was all I could do not to shake him. “Who?” I shouted. “Who are ‘they’?”
“The aliens.” He stated it so matter-of-factly that for a moment I almost thought he’d witnessed her abduction.
Then I came to my senses. “Joel, just because we all thought what we saw was some kind of flying saucer doesn’t mean that Bess was carried off by creatures from outer space.”
“You don’t understand. They knew where to find her,” he declared.
Had the guy totally lost it?
“You don’t believe me, do you?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer. “She showed me that piece of their ship.”
I was about to ask what piece when I remembered the shard she’d filched from the meadow. “You mean that bit of metal?” Had Bess really shown it to him?
“Yes,” he said. “It was probably embedded with some sort of electronic signature that led them to her.”
Joel’s conclusion left me momentarily speechless.
“Where in the world did you get that idea?” I finally asked. It sure didn’t sound like something Bess would think up.
“Ms. Sanchez, from Reel TV. She turned up not long after you left, to check out the vandalism at the café. She had the idea UFOs were responsible. She was pretty annoyed to find out it was just the work of a bear with a sweet tooth. Anyway, she was standing right next to us when Bess showed me her souvenir. At first Bess didn’t realize she was being filmed—but then Ms. Sanchez interviewed her and took pictures of the metal.”
As I listened, I promised myself that when I found Bess, I would strangle her. What had she been thinking?
Turning to Joel, I told him, “I understand where you’re coming from, but you might be jumping to conclusions.”
“Am I?” he asked, distraught. “One minute Bess is taking out the trash; the next minute a UFO appears over this very spot. Next thing you know, she’s missing. What’s your explanation?”
“I have none,” I said flatly. “But an alien abduction is pretty far-fetched.” Before he could disagree, I told him, “Whatever happened to Bess, we’d better notify the police now. After that I’m going to go look for her myself.”
I quickly found George inside. “We’ve got a big problem,” I told her. “Bess has gone missing.”
George laughed. “You mean she’s gone off shopping and forgot to tell us?”
“No.” I showed George Bess’s shoe and her bracelet.
George exhaled sharply. “What happened to her?”
With George I knew I could be blunt. “Since Bess wouldn’t run off leaving one shoe and her favorite bracelet lying in an alley, it’s a pretty good bet she was taken somewhere against her will.”
George closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m not going to panic over this,” she announced with a tight smile. “But tell me you don’t think UFOs are involved— please. ”
“I’m not even sure they are UFOs. I’ve got a hunch that somebody wants people to think the population of Brody’s Junction has been targeted for the latest rash of alien abductions.”
“So then even extraterrestrials—if they actually exist—are innocent until proven guilty,” George quipped. “One problem, Nancy—do we have other suspects?”
“Not exactly,” I admitted. “But I have a few hunches. He’s not exactly a suspect, but I think it’s time we checked out Nathan Blackman. He lives in an isolated place, and he certainly had more than one opportunity to abduct both Sherlock and Aldwin. Maybe he also has Bess. Before we look into it, though, we’ve got to report Bess’s disappearance to the police.”
“Right,” George agreed. She knew as well as I that time was of the essence. Even if this were some sort of prank, the people involved might panic—and Bess and Aldwin could be in serious danger.
Both the police chief and a state trooper were already seated at a café table with Winnie. As they talked, the officers took notes. Winnie looked beyond distraught. Figuring she’d somehow heard about Bess, I walked right up and interrupted. “Do you know where to start looking?” I asked the chief.
He glanced up from his notebook. “Excuse me?”
“There’s a good chance she’s wearing only one shoe. It matches this one.” I held up the sneaker.
Winnie’s eyes widened. “That belongs to Bess. She couldn’t get the paint off of it... Wait. Why would the police be looking for her?”
“You haven’t heard,” George said. She quickly filled Winnie in.
Winnie’s face registered pure horror. “This is going too far!” she said, her voice shaking. Meanwhile, the trooper put a call out on his walkie-talkie, then left to secure the alley.
The chief stayed behind.
“Do you think this is connected?” Winnie asked him.
“With what?” I inquired.
Winnie looked desolate. “The recipe book I had on the counter is missing.”
“Since when?” I asked.
Winnie shook her head. “Who knows? I know it was here last night when I left. But in the commotion this morning I didn’t notice if it had been knocked off the counter. And I didn’t realize it was gone until now, when I had to check some ingredients.”
“You’re sure no one threw it out in the cleanup?” the chief asked.
“Why would anyone throw out a perfectly good loose-leaf binder? Besides, everyone who works for me knows the book is priceless.”
George winced. “I remember you said last night that you hadn’t finished putting the recipes into the computer.”
“Truthfully, I’d barely started. Knowing you were coming, I was going to ask for your help scanning them in.” She heaved a sigh. “They’re irreplaceable, George. They’re my family’s old recipes, and I had the only copy. Worse yet, all the café’s trademark dishes are from that book. Without the book—well, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
As I listened to Winnie, I had a hunch as to her book’s whereabouts. “Not to worry,” I told her.
The police chief looked up sharply. “You sound like you know what happened.”
“I don’t, exactly, but one thing’s for sure—a bear didn’t steal it.” Before anyone could even make the suggestion, I added quickly, “Neither did the aliens.”
Unidentified Friendly Object
Just in case Bess turned up back at the café on her own, I gave the trooper my cell phone number. Then I left with George to try to track her down myself.
Before heading for the car, I checked out the entrance to the café’s parking area. As I’d suspected, the minivan had been replaced by a police sawhorse.
“Are you still fixed on investigating Nathan Blackman first?” George asked.
“He’s our best bet, but we’re going to visit someone else first. I’ve got a hunch that we might be able to find Winnie’s recipe book en route,” I answered as we drove out of town.
“I feel bad for Winnie, but can’t that wait? Bess is more important than any dumb book.”
“No question,” I agreed. I knew she was itching to do something, anything, to find her cousin. I felt the same way. “But checking this out will just take a minute,” I told her. “Plus, I can’t shake the feeling that the missing recipe book is somehow connected to the UFO sightings—and to Bess’s disappearance.”
“What’s the connection?” George asked.
“Winnie’s cousin.”
“No way!” George exclaimed. Then she exhaled sharply. “Wait, Ellie was Winnie’s original partner in the café.”
“And after the way she booted Bess and me out of her shop this morning, I’m sure there’s some serious bad blood between them.”
“Okay—that gives her motive to sabotage Winnie. But why would Ellie kidnap Bess?” George asked. “Or anyone else—and how?”
“That’s what I can’t figure out. But we’re about to ask her,” I said as we approached the Antique Attic.
“It’s going to feel pretty awkward if you’re totally wrong,” George pointed out.
“Tell me about it.” But as I pulled into the driveway, I saw the proof that I wasn’t wrong. I pointed to the shop’s green minivan parked in front of the garage. “That van looks just like the one that was blocking the lot behind the café earlier.”
“I didn’t really notice,” George admitted. “But there’s gotta be more than one green van in this town.”
“Right. The van I saw might not be Ellie’s. Even if it is, it doesn’t prove she stole the recipe book,” I conceded. I grabbed Bess’s shoe and bracelet and started toward the antique shop. On impulse I did an about-face and detoured toward the van. I felt the hood of the car; it was warm.
Maybe my hunch wasn’t so off.
“Here goes nothing,” George murmured as I opened the shop door.
Inside, Ellie was tallying receipts. At the sight of me her welcoming smile faded fast. “What are you doing back here?”
“I need to talk to you,” I answered.
“ I don’t need to talk to you. In fact, perhaps you didn’t get the message earlier: You aren’t welcome here. So leave.”
When I didn’t budge, she reached for the phone. “This is private property. If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the police.”
I shrugged. “Be my guest,” I said. “Though I’m not sure you want to do that.”
George exhaled impatiently. “What Nancy is getting at is, we want the recipe book back—the one you filched from Winnie’s café.”
“What recipe book?” Ellie asked, looking baffled. But I noticed her hand move away from the phone.
“Your family recipe book—the one you and Winnie used in the café. The one you stole this afternoon.” I watched her face as I spelled it out.
“I was here all afternoon,” she declared, looking indignant.
“Oh, then someone borrowed your van?” I suggested.
Ellie’s forehead furrowed into a frown. “No one borrowed my van, and what’s that got to do with Winnie’s book? If that woman can’t keep track of her things, that’s her problem. It’s sure not mine anymore,” she concluded bitterly.
“That’s weird. I’d think you’d be just as upset as Winnie that someone had made off with your family’s recipe book. It’s the only copy, after all.” George looked right at me. “Isn’t that the impression you got, Nancy?”
I nodded, watching Ellie struggle to come up with a response to George’s remark. I knew we’d caught her in a lie, but that wasn’t enough. Bess was missing, and we needed to get to the root of what was going on. “Ellie, stop denying it. No one’s going to press charges against you if you return the recipe book now. We’ll just bring it back to Winnie.”
Ellie’s expression darkened. “Okay, you’re right. I did take it. This afternoon. And yes, I was in town with my van. What’s all this to you, anyway?” she fumed. “I’ve got as much right to it as Winnie. It originally belonged to our grandmother. When we decided to dissolve the partnership in the restaurant, the recipe book conveniently went missing.”
“Oh, gimme a break!” George scoffed.
Ellie stormed out from behind the counter. “Oh, sweet Winifred Armond didn’t tell you that part, did she? It takes two people to make a business work—and to make it fall apart. Everyone thinks I’m the bad guy here, but Winnie’s no angel. The book must have turned up again, because her menu is totally based on the recipes. She continues to profit from everything we dreamed of and started together. The café was as much my passion as hers. When we split up, she was supposed to copy the recipes and share them. Has she? No!”
I had no patience for Ellie’s rant. “That’s all history, something you should have worked out before now. Instead you’ve stolen her book. I bet you also hacked into her computer, tampered with ingredients in her kitchen... and who knows what else you’ve done to get back at her?”
“How about breaking into the place last night and making it look like the work of a bear?” George suggested.
“That’s nuts. I didn’t break in. Bears have broken into several restaurants around here... private homes, too. Leave it to Winnie to try to blame that on me.”
“The point is that you admit you stole the recipes. What about the other attempts to undermine her business?”
Ellie’s bravado suddenly collapsed. “Okay,” she said. She heaved a tired sigh, and threw the papers she was holding down on the counter. “I’m sick of this whole feud anyway. Yes, I stole the book. And yes, I want Winnie’s business to fail, so I managed to play a few dirty tricks. As for her computer... that wasn’t my idea.”
“Whose, then?” George asked.
“My son started tampering with her system before he went back to school. He’s in Boston, studying to be a programmer. He seems to be able to access her machine from there. It’s a mystery to me how.”
Her confession encouraged me. It was time to play hardball with this woman. “If your son’s such a techie, then he probably helped you on the other front.”
“What other front?” Ellie asked, sounding genuinely startled.
“The UFOs,” George answered. “We’re pretty sure they’re a hoax, and since the sighting this afternoon gave you cover to steal the book—”
“Whoa!” Ellie snapped to attention. “You think the UFOs are a hoax?”
I nodded.
“And you think I have something to do with it?” She suddenly didn’t look the least bit tired. She looked furious. “Are you accusing me of somehow faking all these sightings?”
“With help, of course,” I said, holding her glance.
Dumbfounded, Ellie gaped at me. It took her a second to find her voice. “That’s totally off the wall. Forget the how of it. Why would I do something like that?”
“To rev up business,” George suggested, pointing to Ellie’s display of alien souvenirs.
“Oh, that’s brilliant!” Ellie laughed tightly. “In order to sell more dumb alien masks, I’d try to perpetrate some impossible hoax involving little green men.”
“Not for the masks,” I told her. “For your realty business. UFO sightings promise to turn Brody’s Junction into Vermont’s version of Roswell, New Mexico.”
“Interesting concept,” she said, looking impressed. “But believe me, the last thing I want is to turn this town into a permanent tourist mecca—attracting all the crazies who think they see spaceships ready to invade—”
George broke in. “You’re telling us that you had nothing to do with the sighting this afternoon, and Bess’s kidnapping?”
Ellie looked confused. “Someone besides Aldwin and his prize hound have gone missing?” I watched her expression morph from shocked to horrified. “Wait, isn’t Bess that blond girl who was in here earlier today?”
“Yes,” I said. I was finding it hard to read Ellie’s reaction. Either she truly was in the dark about Bess or she deserved an Oscar for Best Actress.
“I can’t believe it—who’d do that?”
“We think it’s whoever is behind the hoaxes—and I’m not convinced you aren’t involved with them somehow,” I told her.
“Are you insane?” she practically shrieked. “I have nothing to do with the hoaxes, and I have no idea what happened to your friend—but if someone abducted her, that’s beyond awful. It’s...” She was suddenly at a loss for words.
Ellie looked and sounded so dismayed that I found myself sure she was telling the truth: She was certainly in the wrong for sabotaging her former business partner, but the woman seemed totally incapable of perpetrating a UFO hoax, let alone kidnapping Bess—
“Wait,” she said, interrupting my chain of thought. “Not being local, you wouldn’t know this, but Aldwin is famous around here for being a prankster. When he and the dog went missing, I figured he was taking a joke too far. But if your friend has really been abducted, then Aldwin has too.”
“You have me convinced,” I finally told Ellie. “You don’t know anything about how Bess or anyone else disappeared.”
“But you did steal those recipes, and unless you want us to turn you in to the police, you’d better return them to Winnie,” George said firmly.
“No way!” Ellie declared. “I’m not returning them to Winnie, not until I have copies.”
“Then we’ll have to call the cops and tell them about how you’ve harassed Winnie and her café, trying to drive her out of business.” George pulled her cell out of her pocket.
“You can’t do that,” Ellie declared hotly.
“Yes, we can,” I contradicted her. I waited a beat before adding, “Unless you go over there now, own up to what you’ve done, and return the recipes.”
George spoke up. “If you do, I’ll sweeten the deal for you. I’ll input the recipes into her computer and make a disk for you—if Winnie doesn’t object. But only if you include a good, heartfelt apology with your very sincere confession.”
“All right,” Ellie said reluctantly. “I’ll go later.”
“More like now,” George said. She turned to me. “Ellie can drive me in her van. You go ahead and keep looking for Bess. I’ll meet up with you later at the inn.”
Ellie closed up her shop as I left the store. I pushed the speed limit and headed right out to the Nichols farm.
When I arrived, I parked in front of the farm stand. The front yard gate creaked as I opened it, and the sound sent the whole kennel barking.
“Oh, keep quiet,” I cried, feeling annoyed, frustrated, and, deep down, scared about what might have happened to Bess.
The dogs continued to bark as I knocked on the front door, hoping Addie May was still home waiting for Aldwin’s return. But no one answered. I figured I’d better check the backyard.
I hurried down the porch steps and rounded the corner of the house, only to find myself eye to eye with the barrel of a shotgun.
And the shabby man pointing the gun at my chest was none other than Nathan Blackman.
The Missing Link
Face-to-face with a shotgun, I swiftly weighed my options—not that there were many. Addie’s truck was not in the barnyard, so it was a good bet I was alone.
Bolting was out of the question. So was a good karate kick; the gun might go off, and one of us would surely get hurt, if not killed. I had only one choice: I’d have to talk my way out of it.
Before I could open my mouth, though, Nathan lowered the gun. His scowl, however, remained as dark as the lowering sky.
“What are you doing here?” he challenged. With his free hand he turned up the collar of his red wool jacket.
“I might ask the same of you,” I snapped.
“I live here.” He paused. “What’s your excuse?”
“I’m looking for Addie May,” I said, trying not to feel foolish. Blackman was right of course. He did technically live on the farm. That didn’t give him an excuse to accost me with a gun, though.
He leaned the gun against the side of the house and folded his arms across his chest. “Well, she’s not here.” He jerked his head toward the barnyard. “See for yourself. Her truck’s gone.”
“Right.”
“She went into town to check in with the police. Fat good that lot’ll do. She actually thinks they’ll find her brother.”
Nathan had given me the opening I was looking for. “What do you think?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I’ll tell you what I don’t think. No way aliens whooshed down here to the old farmstead and ’napped an old lame farmer and his dog.” He narrowed his eyes and studied my face. “You think somewhat like I do. There are no UFOs—no real ones, at any rate—secreted back there in them there hills!” He grinned as he mocked a television backwoods accent. Then, as quickly as his grin had appeared, it vanished. “So why are you snooping around here?”