Total Eclipse of the Moon by Patrick Councilor

[You Didn't Buy Donuts From Him, Did You?]

Martin located the aspirin bottle in the kitchen cupboard directly where Frasier said they would be. He poured himself a glass of water and took two of the pills with the chaser. Setting the glass on the counter, he hobbled into the living room where Frasier was on his cell phone, once again trying to reach Niles.

"Still not getting through, uh?" he asked as he plopped into his recliner.

Frasier closed his phone. "No Dad, he stopped answering his phone around noon."

Picking up the sports pages from yesterday's newspaper, Martin unfolded it and tried not to look worried. "Well Fras, I'm sure he just took a break, got some lunch, and then just went home to pass out from exhaustion." He turned the paper this way and that and flipped it over. Without looking at his son, he asked, "You don't think Daphne would have caught a flight back to Manchester, do you?"

Frasier ran his hand over his hair and down the back side of his neck. "I can't foresee her going to those extremes Dad. Oh, I thought this whole thing would have blown over by now."

Martin nodded. "You're right."

The apartment fell silent for a moment as they both considered the possibility.

"Perhaps you're right about Niles, Dad. When I did reach him on his phone earlier, he did say that he did go out because he couldn't sleep. Maybe I should go over to his place to make certain he made it home safe."

Martin had read the paper's headlines three times and still couldn't recite what he had read. His mind was running a mile a minute. Not only was Daphne gone, but now his youngest. He folded the paper over twice and dropped it on the TV stand by his chair. "Let me get my coat. I'll go with you."

The truth was the apartment just wasn't the same without Daphne. Somehow it seemed colder and a little dimmer. The place lacked luster and spunk. He missed the lunches she would fix and even the odd little stories of Granny Moon.

There was a knock at the front door. It was a peculiar knock. It wasn't a knock of rhythm and it was so soft that it almost seemed to be that of a knock that wasn't supposed to be noticed. Frasier and his father shot each other a look of "What the hell kind of knock is that?!"

Frasier briskly went over and opened the door.

Niles stood there leaning so hard into the frame of the door, that if it had not been there, he surely would have fallen face-first into Frasier's apartment. His hair was a mess and the jacket that he wore was torn at the shoulder seems. He had some leaves and soft branches coming from the innards of his garments.

"Good Lord Niles!" Frasier took him by the arm and helped him over to the sofa.

"I'll get some water," Martin blurt out as he hobbled into the kitchen.

"Niles, what is the meaning of this?"

"Frasier, the city ate me alive. I have walked the streets of Seattle. I have spoken with hotel clerks, policemen on horseback, taxi drivers, passers-by,… I even conversed with a homeless entrepreneur named Rudy, who made and sold donuts cut from and made of cardboard."

Frasier shot him a look at the thought of his brother having a conversation with the homeless man named Rudy. "But Niles, what is the meaning of this? You look like you camouflaged yourself to stake out the public parks."

About this time, Martin brought in a glass of water that Niles gratefully took from him and gulped down. He then tried to catch his breath. "I was making good time and covering so much of the city…"

"Yes?" Martin urged him for more information.

"I must have exhausted myself out, because I woke up in some bushes somewhere in Pioneer Square."

"Good heavens Niles, you could have been mugged," Frasier exclaimed.

"That's it." Martin put his foot down. "From now on, you don't go out looking for Daphne without us. Is that understood?"

Niles didn't have the energy to answer. He just nodded. "I somehow lost something in the bushes."

"What did you lose?" Frasier asked.

"I purchased something called a 'Staple Gun'."

"A staple gun?" Martin questioned. "What did you need with a staple gun?"

He held up a small stack of papers that neither one of them had noticed him holding when he came in. "The clerk at the hardware store who sold me tape to hang these, also suggested the staple gun to post them on wood backings such as telephone poles."

Frasier took the stack from him to view them better. "You've had an artist draw Daphne?"

"Let me see those." Martin took them. They read: "Daphne Moon, please call the Crane Family". "A composite drawing? You hired a sketch artist?!"

"Yes, and you have NO IDEA HOW MUCH THEY CHARGE at three in the morning. Not to mention how irate the first two artist were when I kept insisting that they get her beautiful eyes just perfect."

Martin shot him a look. "Just how many sketch artists did you end up hiring?"

"Five. Well… the first one didn't count because she was just an amateur T-shirt designer."

Frasier stood up at once. "That's it Niles. The night is over. I'm going to draw you a warm bath, fix you a hot totty, and set up the guest room for you. We will proceed with the search in the morning." Frasier headed for his bathroom to start the bath.

Niles called to him. "Frasier, I don't want any alcohol. I want my senses to be alert and keen when we go out looking for her."

"Nonsense, Niles. I insist…"

"Save your breath Fras," Martin said.

When Frasier turned around, he had discovered that Niles had fallen asleep on the couch that quickly.