CHAPTER FIVE           Story Table of Contents          Finding Martin Game

"Just the facts, ma'am," Timothy said to nobody in particular. "It's 10:23 am in Sycamore Creek, New Mexico. Detective Sergeant Joe Friday is investigating the private residence of the missing person, Martin Kessler. Inventory of the dining room has revealed one china cabinet, decorated with carvings of bluebirds, containing four plates and four glasses. Also in the dining room is one side board drawer containing four forks, four knives, and four spoons. A chandelier with twenty small bulbs hangs over a table with a blue tablecloth."

"No sign of the kitchen."

The truth of the matter was that Timothy was started to get a little lonely being in the house all by himself.  Every room seemed to have some sort of puzzle that he needed to solve in order to get to the next room, and there was no one to help him figure it all out.

He was beginning to regret not having questioned Rachel more carefully when he had spoken to her on the phone.  After all, Rachel grew up in this house and she would know all the tricks and puzzles.  Joe Friday would have gotten all of the pertinent info in a matter of seconds.

"Silly boy, just set the table."

It was Rachel's voice. Annoying and deeply resonant, with a rich little flutter in the middle of some of her longer vowels.

Rachel wasn't actually here in the house with him, Tim realized.  But somehow her presence seemed to be a part of what this place needed to be.  It was as if the years that she had spent inside these walls were something that would always exist, a truth too fundamental to be undone by the passage of time.

Tim was getting lonely enough that he almost didn't mind imagining Rachel's voice.  He'd spent far too many hours watching old TV reruns lately.  He needed to get out more and interact with real people.

Even if they weren't actually here.

As Tim put a plate on the table, he heard a click coming from overhead.  He looked up and saw that one of the chandelier bulbs was now lit.

Quickly he put down a fork, knife, and spoon.  Three more bulbs were lit!

"Put the glass above and to the right of the plate," Rachel told him.

"I know that," Timothy snapped.

As Tim finished setting the last piece of glassware on the table, the china cabinet suddenly slid sideways, revealing a door-sized opening in the wall.

As Tim walked into the kitchen, he was still muttering to himself.  "A cop knows what he needs to know, and my name is Friday -- I'm a cop."

"No, you're not," Rachel said softly.

Chapter Six          Story Table of Contents          Finding Martin Game