Flint.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, young man,” I swear Mr. Sykes was examining the air around Mason’s head, and he appeared even more pleased than before. He nodded to himself and returned his gaze to me.
“Did you know my grandmother?” I prompted. I still wasn’t sure why he’d knocked on the door.
“Yes, yes,” he said, but sadly this time and with no cane taps. “We knew each other for many, many years. Very sad, her passing. How is Dorothy?”
“Not very well,” I answered. “I’m not sure if you heard, but she had a stroke the same day my grandmother died. She’s in a home in Danton now.”
“Oh, that is terrible news.” He pursed his lips for a second. “I am so sorry to hear it. I do not mean to keep you, Ms. Finley, but would you mind accompanying me back to my house? It’s just across the street and two down. I have something for you from your dear grandma.”
“You … have something for me?” I said, frowning a question mark at Mason. He raised his eyebrows and gave me a look that said he wasn’t sure that Mr. Sykes still firmly possessed all his marbles.
“Yes, yes,” Mr. Sykes said, already slowly caning his way down the front walk. “It will only take a moment.”
He ambled slowly, and with a pronounced limp, which he explained was due to a knee replacement he’d had not long after my grandmother passed away.
“I would have given it to you earlier, but I had to stay with my daughter in Danton for a several months after the surgery while I recovered and went to physical therapy.”
Mason and I silently followed him into his house. He asked us to wait in the entryway while he disappeared down a hallway. Mr. Sykes’s slow pace made the whole scenario seem all the more suspenseful. It was all I could do not to hurry him up a little. I waited until he was out of earshot, then leaned closer to Mason.
“Oh my God, he’s on the list! Do you think he knows anything?” I whispered.
“I don’t know. But after your experience with Harriet Jensen, maybe we should play it safe,” Mason said.
“You’re right. We won’t say anything yet.” I was practically jittering with excitement. “What do you think he has for me?”
“I bet it’s a box full of collector’s edition garden gnomes,” Mason whispered, and I clapped a palm over my mouth and nose to stifle a laugh.
“No way, my grandmother had better taste than that,” I whispered back once I had control of myself.
“Okay, then it’s a key to a secret laboratory in her basement,” he said. “Where she made the pyxis solutions.”
“Nuh-uh, there’s no basement in my grandmother’s house.”
“Hence the secret in ‘secret laboratory.’”
We heard Mr. Sykes shuffling back down the hall, so we piped down. I looked eagerly for some mysterious thing, but saw only a generic, white, legal-sized envelope in his hand.
“Here it is,” he said, his face solemn. He handed me the envelope as if it were the royal crown. “It’s a letter from your grandmother.”
“Okay, uh, thank you.” I maintained a polite smile.
Mr. Sykes bade us goodbye, and we started back toward my grandmother’s house. I stopped at the sidewalk just before the walkway to my grandmother’s house and stared down at the envelope in my hands. Mason stopped beside me.
“This is just … kind of weird, don’t you think? I mean, I don’t think Grandma Doris ever mentioned the guy.”
“Yeah, that’s strange,” Mason agreed. He glanced at his watch. “And I hate to cut our investigation short, but I need to go soon. I’m sure my parents are back by now, and they’re going to need some help.”
Always the dutiful son. Sometimes I thought Mason was the only one in the Flint family who had his head screwed on straight. Obviously, it was a lucky fluke of genetics.
“Okay, let’s lock up real quick, and I’ll walk back with you.” I definitely wasn’t going to stay at my grandmother’s house alone. I ran inside to check
“It’s very nice to meet you, young man,” I swear Mr. Sykes was examining the air around Mason’s head, and he appeared even more pleased than before. He nodded to himself and returned his gaze to me.
“Did you know my grandmother?” I prompted. I still wasn’t sure why he’d knocked on the door.
“Yes, yes,” he said, but sadly this time and with no cane taps. “We knew each other for many, many years. Very sad, her passing. How is Dorothy?”
“Not very well,” I answered. “I’m not sure if you heard, but she had a stroke the same day my grandmother died. She’s in a home in Danton now.”
“Oh, that is terrible news.” He pursed his lips for a second. “I am so sorry to hear it. I do not mean to keep you, Ms. Finley, but would you mind accompanying me back to my house? It’s just across the street and two down. I have something for you from your dear grandma.”
“You … have something for me?” I said, frowning a question mark at Mason. He raised his eyebrows and gave me a look that said he wasn’t sure that Mr. Sykes still firmly possessed all his marbles.
“Yes, yes,” Mr. Sykes said, already slowly caning his way down the front walk. “It will only take a moment.”
He ambled slowly, and with a pronounced limp, which he explained was due to a knee replacement he’d had not long after my grandmother passed away.
“I would have given it to you earlier, but I had to stay with my daughter in Danton for a several months after the surgery while I recovered and went to physical therapy.”
Mason and I silently followed him into his house. He asked us to wait in the entryway while he disappeared down a hallway. Mr. Sykes’s slow pace made the whole scenario seem all the more suspenseful. It was all I could do not to hurry him up a little. I waited until he was out of earshot, then leaned closer to Mason.
“Oh my God, he’s on the list! Do you think he knows anything?” I whispered.
“I don’t know. But after your experience with Harriet Jensen, maybe we should play it safe,” Mason said.
“You’re right. We won’t say anything yet.” I was practically jittering with excitement. “What do you think he has for me?”
“I bet it’s a box full of collector’s edition garden gnomes,” Mason whispered, and I clapped a palm over my mouth and nose to stifle a laugh.
“No way, my grandmother had better taste than that,” I whispered back once I had control of myself.
“Okay, then it’s a key to a secret laboratory in her basement,” he said. “Where she made the pyxis solutions.”
“Nuh-uh, there’s no basement in my grandmother’s house.”
“Hence the secret in ‘secret laboratory.’”
We heard Mr. Sykes shuffling back down the hall, so we piped down. I looked eagerly for some mysterious thing, but saw only a generic, white, legal-sized envelope in his hand.
“Here it is,” he said, his face solemn. He handed me the envelope as if it were the royal crown. “It’s a letter from your grandmother.”
“Okay, uh, thank you.” I maintained a polite smile.
Mr. Sykes bade us goodbye, and we started back toward my grandmother’s house. I stopped at the sidewalk just before the walkway to my grandmother’s house and stared down at the envelope in my hands. Mason stopped beside me.
“This is just … kind of weird, don’t you think? I mean, I don’t think Grandma Doris ever mentioned the guy.”
“Yeah, that’s strange,” Mason agreed. He glanced at his watch. “And I hate to cut our investigation short, but I need to go soon. I’m sure my parents are back by now, and they’re going to need some help.”
Always the dutiful son. Sometimes I thought Mason was the only one in the Flint family who had his head screwed on straight. Obviously, it was a lucky fluke of genetics.
“Okay, let’s lock up real quick, and I’ll walk back with you.” I definitely wasn’t going to stay at my grandmother’s house alone. I ran inside to check
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