Dinner? Promise no more brochures.
No more than a dozen?
He sent a smile face, an angel, and a globe. Then:Don’t forget it’s your day to feed the dragon pig.
I sent a thumbs up and stuck the phone in my pants pocket. I’d need to go pick up that rusted fence Aaron was holding for me.
“Thefts?” Myra led the way across the room to the stairs and started up.
“You know about the missing traffic light?”
“Yeah. Jean told me this morning.”
“Now the light pole outside Than’s kite shop is gone.”
She slowed and glanced back over her shoulder. “The light pole.”
“The light pole.”
She raised her dark eyebrows and took the last few steps to the upper level, heading straight to the sitting room, which was really more of an inviting little space with soft couches and a clutter of loose-leaf letters and booklets scattered on shelves and small tables.
She took the couch. I flopped down into the comfy chair across from her, the wooden coffee table, polished to a deep shine, between us.
“Did Than report it?” she asked.
“No, I was there. Frigg wants to transfer the powers and it’s his turn.”
“Well, that’s gonna be fun to watch. So you noticed the pole missing?”
“It was there before I went in and when I left, it was gone.”
“You didn’t hear anything?”
“Storm.”
She nodded. “All right, talk me through it.”
It wasn’t a long story, but I recited everything that had happened and pulled up the photos on my phone.
“Who would want a streetlight?” she asked.
“That’s why I’m here.”
Harold came in with a tray holding two coffee mugs and a plate of small, chocolatey cookies.
“Thanks,” I said. “Are you going to join us?”
“As much as I like a good mystery,” he smiled, “and I certainly do, there seems to be a discrepancy in the inventory I am excited to ferret out.”
He walked out of the room. I threw Myra a look.
“What areyoumissing?”
“Not streetlights. It’s just a book that isn’t on the shelf where it’s supposed to be. It’s still in the building,” she said before taking a huge bite of cookie. “We’d know if it were really gone.”
From the room below came athunkfollowed by a laugh. Harold’s voice floated up from the living area. “William, Dashiell, what have I told you about lobbing volumes at Edgar? Pick that up and help me find your missing shelf mate.”
There was anotherthunkand the fast tap of shoes running.
