Chapter 18: Michael Arrives

Three days after we arrived in Fry, Andrea and Augie noticed a man who matched Michael's description. The town was in a flurry of activity. People were stocking up on basics, getting ready for the impending arrival of the French. Planning quickly, we decided to capture him as he met with John Foster. Sue showed me how to get into the Sheriff's bedroom.

We hid in the same armoire Sue had used earlier and waited for our prey. Soon after we settled into our hiding place, we heard Foster and another man walking through the house. Foster's tone was deferential, almost defensive, as he tried to answer the other man's questions. As they searched the Sheriff's study, Foster called the othe rman "Lord Michael." My heart stopped. If Detective Neil saw us, we'd be dead. Fortunately, other events took over.

Looking around, Michael found that the safe was empty and concluded that Foster had done something with the silver and the amulet. He accused Foster of being careless, losing the "rutters," as he called them. Foster shrank against the wall, his eyes wide with fear. Stepping to the middle of the room, Michael turned and faced Foster.

"Lord Peter will be most displeased to hear that you cared more for the quim of some slut than for his rightful tribute." His tone had all the power of a death sentence.

I was amazed when Michael, who wore an older, head mounted MC device, narrowed his eyes and concentrated on Foster. Foster grabbed his head and, as his eyes rolled back into their sockets, he crumbled to the floor. This showed me a new side of the device, the ability to harm.

Michael prodded Foster's body with his toe. Satisfied that Foster was dead, Michael looked around and appeared ready to leave. Suddenly, from behind the kitchen door, Evie hit him over the head with a whiskey bottle. Michael joined Foster on the floor, knocked unconscious. Evie ran out the door and into the street, giving me a few precious seconds to rifle Michael's pockets before escaping.

Foster's deputies arrived soon thereafter and arrested the still unconscious Michael, lynching him immediately in the town's central square. As I saw them throwing the noose over the gallows, I couldn't help muttering," And may God have mercy on your soul."

Sue was mad. She had wanted to capture and question Michael about his involvement in Lucy's death but I was unwilling to use the necklace to question someone as obviously experienced as Michael. Instead I went to the arroyo and found Michael's Time Machine. I read the settings on the dials and cross-referenced them with the Sheriff's travel diary to calculate Michael's point of origin. Sue pointed out that the coordinates allow for three possible origins, not to mention all of the places that Michael could have been that the Sheriff hadn't. I wasn't worried, however, calmly explaining that the contents of Michael's pockets (a set of keys, some mail, and an address book) reinforced and confirmed my solution.

Back at the hunting cabin, I announced my plan to go to Peter's world. Everyone volunteered to come with me. I mentally noted the varying motives of my fellow travelers, but told the Witbiers to stay and rebuild their lives. The Sheriff's diary indicated that Peter's headquarters was in a place similar to 1920's New Orleans. The plan was that we would travel as 5 male laborers.

While the girls were busy altering Augie's clothing to fit themselves, I read through the correspondence we had found on Michael. Like most business travelers, Michael had traveled light. Keys, money, his address book, and some mail were all that his pockets contained. I thumbed through the date book and found one of the days noted with "Peter's Masked Ball." I only hoped that the date hadn't passed.

By the next morning, everyone was ready to go. The sight of the girls checking their weapons before boarding the Time Machine was unnerving. I hoped that our single shot.45's would be a match for whatever Peter carried. We climbed into the machine. I set the dials and we disappeared from the canyon in a ripple of shadow.