“Why not?” Mary wanted to know.
The answer that occurred to Miss Evangeline was absolutely unutterable, so she shooed the shockingly young child back to her playmates, simply refusing to reply.
Through the elms, she could see the mayor’s mansion. It gleamed whitely in the late afternoon sun. She had never seen the mayor in any one of the mansion’s many windows, but she was always expecting him to appear, if only briefly. She was a staunch supporter of his and of the party to which they both belonged. He didn’t know of her existence, of course, but she knew of his, and if things were a bit unbalanced in that regard, well, such was the way of the world.
She suddenly remembered that a mayoralty election was due — why, next week! She pulled a notebook and ballpoint pen from her knitting bag and made a note to remind herself to vote. After all, it was her civic duty.
She fed small biscuits to a boxer and a cocker spaniel who passed her bench during the next hour.
She looked out several times toward the river, but the Mulberry Mall Monster did not appear. She had seen it twice now. The first time, she had called out to the people nearby as she pointed at it, but they had missed seeing it. They had merely shaken their heads and smiled in the oddest way. The Monster was clever and had evidently been too quick for them. But she had seen it! She made another note: Tell Sergeant MacReynolds to bring depth charges.
The Mulberry Mall Monster’s days were numbered, she thought with grim satisfaction as she gazed serenely across the mall.
Now what was that man doing over there by the red maple? She squinted, damning her eyes for growing so old so soon.
Pinning a note to the maple tree, that’s what he was doing. She got up and hurried over to him, not caring that curiosity killed cats, or so people said.
“Oh, it’s you, Miss Evangeline,” the man said, turning at the sound of her approach.
“Hello, Mr. Michelson.” She squinted. “What’s that? A message for someone?”
“It’s a note offering a reward for the return of Mitzi, our poodle. She was stolen right here on the mall yesterday. I was here with my wife and little boy, and Mitzi was off the leash and running around and all of a sudden she was gone.”
“She ran away?”
“No. Mrs. Ralston was nearby, and she told me later that she saw a man pick Mitzi up and run off with her. I’m offering a two hundred and fifty dollar reward.”
“That’s a great deal of money,” Miss Evangeline said with surprise.
“My little boy cries all the time since we lost Mitzi. So the money doesn’t matter.”
“Not in terms of tears, no,” Miss Evangeline agreed sagely if a little vaguely. “I do hope you get poor Mitzi back.” She strolled back to her bench and watched the windows of the mayor’s mansion, but he didn’t appear, not even for a moment. So she shut her eyes to rest them.
When she opened her eyes again, the sun had gone out. There were stars in the sky. Why, she had been asleep! And there was Mr. Michelson at the red maple as if no time at all had passed. She watched him remove the note from the tree as she eased herself to her feet, cursing the stiffness that ached in her ankles and knees. She had almost reached the exit from the mall when Mr. Michelson came abreast of her.
“You were taking the note down,” she said. “You must have found Mitzi,” she added hopefully.
He shook his head, but there was a happy smile on his face. “No, not yet. But a man phoned and said he had her and would consider meeting me and turning her over to me if I asked no questions. I assured him I’d ask no questions. I just want Mitzi back. He might be the thief, but I don’t care about that. I’m on my way to meet him now.”
“You should have called Sergeant MacReynolds. Stealing dogs is a criminal matter.” Miss Evangeline fell silent for a moment. “No,” she mused, “it probably wouldn’t have helped all that much even if you had called him. I reported an earthquake under my house to him just last week, and he told me I was imagining things.”
“Goodbye, Miss Evangeline,” Mr. Michelson said. “Can you get home alone all right?”
“Most certainly. Good night, Mr. Michelson. Say hello to Mitzi for me.”
She walked to where she had parked the Packard and got in. She spent some time searching for the ignition key, but at last she found it in the bottom of her knitting bag. She started the motor. As she drove up the street, she passed Mr. Michelson standing in the shadowy entrance to the alley that ran behind the shops on Main Street. She drove on slowly because the darkness of the town and the dimness of her eyes urged caution on her. She glanced in the rear view mirror to be sure no one was close behind her before preparing for the turn that would lead her onto her own street.
She saw Mr. Michelson and another man standing on the deserted street beside the alley entrance. But where was Mitzi? She slowed down then, shocked, as she saw Mr. Michelson raise his arm but fail to shield himself from the blow the other man delivered. She stopped her car in the middle of the street as Mr. Michelson fell to the pavement and the other man knelt beside him and began to go through his pockets. She got out of the car and hurried breathlessly back to where Mr. Michelson lay groaning and holding his head. She helped him get to his feet and he told her that the man had stolen his wallet and the reward money he had brought with him.
“But what about Mitzi?”
Mr. Michelson grimaced and touched the base of his skull. “He laughed when I asked him where Mitzi was. He just laughed and then he hit me.”
“Call the police at once.”
Mr. Michelson said he didn’t want any trouble. If he called the police, their activities might scare the man away for good, and then perhaps he’d never get Mitzi back.
Miss Evangeline secretly decided she would personally report the incident to Sergeant MacReynolds, but when she arrived home later, after dropping Mr. Michelson off, she decided it wouldn’t do any good because the flying saucer still sat smack in the middle of her flowerbed, glowing greenly in the light of the moon. Patrolman Carson had failed to remove it.
The next afternoon, Miss Evangeline sat close to the mulberry bushes on the mall, looking as inconspicuous as just another berry. She had planned it that way. The Monster might appear at any minute and she didn’t want it to spot her before she had a chance to sound an alarm.
She had remembered to bring her glasses with her this time, so she clearly recognized Patrolman Carson while he was still some distance away from her.
As he came up to her, he said, “Hello, Miss Evangeline. I’d planned to give your flying saucer a ticket for illegal parking yesterday, but when I got to your place it had gone. I did notice, though, that your jack-in-the-pulpits weren’t a bit crushed.”
She eyed him suspiciously. It was true that her flowers, this morning, had stood as straight and brightly staunch as if no saucer had ever landed on them, but that would undoubtedly have something to do with the invaders’ advanced aerodynamics. Carson was lying to her because the saucer had still been there when she arrived home last night. She was about to accuse him of lying when a new thought occurred to her. Perhaps the saucer had taken off during the day and then returned later. That would explain why Carson hadn’t seen it. Perhaps he wasn’t lying after all. She began to feel more kindly toward him. She searched in her knitting bag and brought out a candy bar which she handed to him with a conciliatory smile. He took it, touched his cap, and was off down one of the paths, whistling a tune by the Beatles.
Miss Evangeline surveyed her domain with a certain uneasiness. She was thinking about Mitzi and poor Mr. Michelson and his sad little boy. The theft was a shameful thing to have happen right under the nose, so to speak, of the mayor. If the opposition party ever found out about it, it might mean political disaster for the incumbent — a lost election. She tried not to think about it any more, vowing that she would not tell tales out of school, and Mr. Michelson, she recalled, had said he wouldn’t report the matter to the police. So perhaps all would still be well for the mayor. She concentrated on the others who shared the mall with her, counting them, categorizing them.