Sadly, this good feeling didn’t last long. Darcy squashed it flat as soon as I told her about Basil’s phone call.

“Darcy! You said I would like this idea!”

“I said it was brilliant.” She corrected me patiently. “I never said you would like it.”

Giving a heave of exhaustion I collapsed onto my bed. “Well I don’t like it one bit. It’s a terrible idea.”

She corrected me again. “It’s a fabulously cunning idea. It’s only the implications that are so terrible.”

Something like moan rose out of my throat. “Of all people, Basil!” I groaned. “Why couldn’t it have been someone like Julia or… or Hale!”

Darcy began to lose patience. “Hale doesn’t know how to plant stink bombs, set fireworks or hack Facebook accounts for teenage millionaire’s private cell numbers.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Considering the alternatives, it’s our best bet.”

“Well then, I guess I’ve got to give him that much.” I quipped sarcastically.

Nodding with a hard look in my direction, Darcy paced. “If we can just get some leverage on him, we may be able to bribe him into helping us.”

“That’s that then.” I said cheerfully. “What could Basil possibly want from me? Besides, he hates me.”

Tapping a finger to her lips, Darcy’s eyes screwed up in deep thought. “Just the simple joy of some mischief may be enough to get him to come along. If not, we’ll have to owe him something.”

Defiant, I shook my head furiously. “I’m not going to be in anyone’s debt, especially Basil.”

Darcy stopped pacing for a moment and rounded on me, pleading. “Bridie, we need him. We might finally learn something valuable with his help. And it would be the last thing our murderer would suspect.”

I huffed.

“Please say you’ll do it Bridie. For Ben.” She added the last bit knowingly.

“For Grandpa,” I agreed reluctantly. “I’ll try.”

“Good. Now get out there and show him your stuff.”

“Darcy, I’m attempting to bribe a guy into helping me plant stink bombs.”

“Right. Go.”

~*~

The Stubbings House was a fair bit down the road, considering the size of the Baxter estate. Following the wrought iron fence that ran around the acreage I made my way slowly down the gravel road, dragging my sneakers through the pebbles. Finally the iron pegs ended and gave way to a white picket fence which signaled the beginning of the Stubbings House. Ms. Stubbings lived in a comfortable cottage nestled in the hillside and surrounded in magnificent gardens which she took great pride in. She had never married, though took it upon herself to raise her brother’s son, her nephew, Basil, who came to live with her. It was a fair sized building, not too big, not too small. It was surrounded in trees, bushes and flowers, well kept and homey. It was bright and cheery, white with evergreen shutters and gables. As I shuffled up the brick walkway I admired the property as a whole, the ambience of tranquility that it emitted was entirely welcoming. I couldn’t help but want to stay.

But then, I remembered, there’s him.

I raised the knocker and tapped it three times, then waited. Maybe he’s not home? I hope he’s out. He must be home. Maybe he’s in bed? I hope he’s ill. He’s probably not ill. I hope he’s out.

These circles came to abrupt halt as the door creaked open. Basil leaned against the doorway, arms folded over his chest and snout high in the air, half turned away from me. My heart sunk like a lead brick. “Hey Basil.”

“Have you come to apologize?”

“Apologize?” I nearly screamed. “Why would I need to apologize to you?”

He still didn’t turn to look at me, staring superiorly at the ceiling. “For your unacceptable behavior last night.”

“My unacceptable behavior? What about your unacceptable behavior?” My fists were clenched so hard my nails dug into my palms.

A smug grin swept across his face. “I don’t know what your talking about.”

“Basil Stubbings,” I marched right up to him, shaking with anger. “I’m gonna–” He dropped his act of superiority and held up his hands in defense. It was then that I saw his shinning purple bruise in all its glory.

“Oh.” I breathed. It was perfect. I had hit him straight in the eye, causing a mottled purple-green bruise the size of my fist to form on his pompous face.

He scowled angrily. “Good shot, eh? Girl’s fists get right in there.”

I grinned. “Have you been hit by a girl before?”

He turned away again, black eye hidden. “Now, what did you want?”

“I daresay you probably deserved it then too.”

“Stop wasting my time. What did you come for?”

Then I too scowled grudgingly. “I came to make a bargain.”

He scoffed at me. “I’m not interested.” Seeing as he was making to close the door, I lunged to fill the gap.

“Basil, please, just hear me out. It’s important.”

“Is it now?”

“Yes! It’s about my grandfather. Darcy and I need your help.”

He seemed to consider me, eyeing me from head to toe, sizing me up then staring in to my eyes for a long moment with a look that asked me if a could possibly be serious. After this moment he turned and stalked away. “Fine. Come in. Follow me. Close the door. You’re letting all the cool air out.”

Hurrying to do as he said, then following him throughout the house, I took everything in with a mild curiosity. The inside of the house reflected much of the outside: homey, comfortable, antique. There was carved maple furniture, lace curtains, doilies galore, and it was all very clean and sort of… fresh? No, perhaps not. There was something in the air that I could not quite describe, but felt with great intensity. Was it emptiness? Yet the place was so peaceful, it could not be an unhappy emptiness. It was much to content. I examined the back of Basil’s scraggly black head with great scrutiny, somehow… intrigued. What sort of mysteries and secrets did this boy hold? Thinking about what Aunt Beatrice had said, I wondered what had made him the way he was now.

“What?” He asked suddenly.

“What what?” I realized that we had stopped. We were in the kitchen. A sliding door opened onto the patio, where two white chairs were sitting next to a table.

“You were staring at me.”

I blinked in mild surprise. “Was I? Sorry.”

He scowled at me once again. “Let’s sit on the patio.”

“So. What do you want?”

Taking a deep breath, I examined the situation, deciding how to start. “Darcy and I… we need your help.”

“I got that much.”

I scowled back. “Then shut up and don’t interrupt. You probably know that the police hardly looked over the case, practically decided it was murder or suicide and left it at that. Darcy and I want to find out who did it.”

“That’s nuts!” He was laughing at me.

The patio chairs were tall. My feet didn’t quite touch the ground so a glared at my toes as they swung back and forth. “I’ve told you not to interrupt. Anyway, that’s not important here. All you need to know is that we need you.” Ugh. I hated saying that word. We didn’t need him, his aid was simply very vital.

“What do I get out of it?”

Uh oh. This was going to be the hard part. “Well… you get to cause a bit of fun. We’ll need to set traps of course, and we need your computer skills, cause a bit of mischief.  Something, I think, that is right up your alley.”

Leaning back in his patio chair, he studied me mockingly. “Is that all?”

“That’s the main idea, of course. There may be more.” I nodded. “Will you do it?”

Staring off into the distance with a vagueness and stroking his chin, he said: “I’ll think about it, maybe give it a try.”

“And, um, I want to make another bargain with you.” I wriggled in my seat, watching his eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. “For that picture of me and the cake.”

He let out a great guffaw and slapped his knee heartily. “It’s a superb pic. Wanna see?”

“No,” I hissed. “I want you to delete it.”

Leaning across the tiny patio table he grinned smugly at me. “And what are you going to give me for it?”

Another black eye, I thought, staring at the dark blotch scathingly. “I don’t know. What do you want?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll delete it though?”

He took a deep breath. “Fine. But you’re gonna owe me.”

Sighing with relief I leaped off my chair. “Great. Thanks.”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“I wont promise you.”

“Great. Thanks.” I stuck out a hand.

Eyeing it warily he hesitated. Then he took his hand out of his pockets and we shook on it.

I grinned. “Great.”

He stuck out his tongue. “Thanks.”

~*~

June 10th, 2005

My Dear Bridie,

Mrs. Stubbings was called on urgent business to the city, so she asked if Basil could stay with us for a while. I agreed, as Basil has no where else to go. I also hope you two might learn to get along. Perhaps some time forced in each other’s company will spark some friendship? Sadly, this is a very large mansion, and as soon as Basil came to the door you ran and hid. I was forced to entertain Basil by myself, so we took out checkers. We had lots of fun, actually. Basil is very good at checkers. However, he keeps glancing around nastily, as though you might jump out soon enough. I do wish you’d join us.