Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

It was three-thirty when Mrs Cameron made her way through the front door. Henry waved as Mr Franklin's 1959 Cadillac Coupe de Ville with its enormous fins pulled out of the drive and headed onto the road towards the Red Deer Retirement Mansion.

Henry took a deep breath and headed back into the house, shutting the door behind him. He shoved it with all his might, making sure it was closed—and locked. Gramma Carol had made him promise. After all, it appeared someone had been in the house the other night. Henry had also promised he'd do his homework. Out of thin air, Gramma Carol had pulled the assignment—an essay of his choosing on the topic of Marjorie Ellis' The Ragtag Crew. He wandered into the writing room, plunked himself down on the chair behind the desk and swivelled back and forth. He spun harder until he felt dizzy. When he stopped, he was facing the bookcase. Right there, at eye level, was a copy of The Ragtag Crew.

He remembered being told that it was a first edition, which meant it was in the first batch of books to be printed. People paid a lot for first editions, especially if they'd been signed by the author. He reached over and took the volume off the shelf. Inside, on the title page he saw it—the neat and tidy signature of Marjorie Ellis.

He held the book in his hand and flipped to the first page. He started to read the first line.

They were friends, not for reasons of love or admiration, but by—

"Boring," he called out. Then he noticed a note written in the margin of the page. It was referring to the comma before the word ‘but'. The note read,

I distinctly recall using a semicolon here.

It was written in the same tidy handwriting as the signature. Marjorie Ellis had gone back and corrected the book. There were a number of these corrections throughout. At that moment, Henry knew what the topic of his essay would be—Editors Changing the Author's Mind. And he had the perfect reference material for this—the first edition and the sacred manuscript which was on the next shelf over. He picked them up and headed to his bedroom.

Henry thought about doing his homework, then it hit him. He realized that this was a milestone moment. For the very first time in the thirteen-year-old life of Henry Quill, he was alone. Truly alone. Not going to the toilet or having a bath alone. This was real alone. He felt like a bird flying out of the nest for the first time. He was technically still in the nest, but right now, at this moment, it was his nest.

Henry had the urge to do everything he'd ever thought of in the short time he had. Gramma Carol had planned on arriving in Red Deer no later than five, visiting with her sister for a few hours, which would make it seven, and arriving back to Hoodoo House by nine—ten at the latest she had said. That would give Henry at least five hours of freedom!

Henry went back down to the kitchen. He decided his snack would become an early dinner. When he opened the fridge, he discovered that Gramma Carol had made him a ham and cheese sandwich with a side of fresh-cut vegetables and an instant pudding for dessert. He pulled them out of the refrigerator. The cold air fell from the fridge and wrapped itself around him. He'd never felt cold air like this on his body before, but then again he'd never stood in front of the open fridge door naked before. Well, he wasn't truly naked—he still wore his underwear. Being in the kitchen completely naked…well, that just didn't seem right. He marched back to the table with his sandwich, and sat down at the head of the table. This was a day for breaking rules.

Next on the list—another cup of coffee, black. Grown-ups did it and he figured he'd have to start sometime.

Henry felt powerful, like a superhero in one of his comic books. Superheroes went on quests and adventures.

Henry was struck by an idea. He made his way down the cellar stairs, behind the shelves and along the tunnel. In a matter of seconds, he had located the vertical board he was looking for and punched in the code on the keypad behind it. Henry heard the click of a door latch opening. He pushed on the secret door and once it had swung open, he felt along the wall and flicked on a switch. The room was flooded with light.

In his head, he tried to figure out what was above him. He closed his eyes and his brain plotted out the route he took to get here. He soon realized that this room was directly below the old hotel's dining room, now Henry's puzzle room.

He looked around. The room was exactly as it had been before, but this time he decided he might look to see if there was anything that the detectives might have missed.

His coffee-fuelled brain didn't see anything of great use, but he did spot something of interest in the corner. On one of the tables was a black mask and it looked new. He tried it on. It was like the knitted balaclavas he had worn in the winter, but this was made of leather. It looked a little large, but when he did up the zipper it seemed to fit all right.

Now Henry was like a real superhero, but he was missing something. He looked around and discovered a shiny rubber baton. It was a bit heavy, like it was filled with sand, but it was perfect—a way for the superhero to protect himself. Henry took the mask and the baton, turned out the light then carefully closed the door and restored the panel to its original position. As Henry headed back upstairs to his bedroom, another idea crossed his mind. But not just any idea—a fantastic one.

He rummaged through his dresser and pulled out a pair of black jeans and a black sweatshirt which he put on. Then he donned the leather mask. Baton in hand, held out to his side, he looked at himself in the mirror. He couldn't believe it. What stared back at him was not the wimpy Henry Quill. It was The Slithe! He screamed with delight as he jumped around the room, doing his best impression of a martial arts expert. Today was the best day in Henry Quill's life.