The Mabel Who Knew Too Much
Chapter 4: The Little Lady Vanishes
From Journal 4, by Stanford Pines: (Continuing from the notes I set down an hour ago)
It is past midnight, but I'm far too keyed up to sleep. The baffling disappearance of Pacifica Elise Northwest—I don't think I recorded her full name or background; she's the thirteen-year-old daughter of a wealthy couple in Gravity Falls—intrigues me.
The elements seem so inchoate, so disparate: an uncanny flock of birds that attack an automobile (nothing like that has ever happened in Roadkill County, or indeed in all of Oregon, though I found online an account of somewhat similar avian behavior that took place in Bodega Bay, California, in 1963); the discovery of a heretofore unknown species of apparently invisible fish; and most of all, the inexplicable (to me, at least) way in which the Northwest girl apparently vanished into thin air.
NOTE TO SELF: I have reached a tentative hypothesis as to how an invisible fish may cast a shadow: the transparent body of the fish displaces water; the sunlight coming through the water passes through the void where the fish's body is; and unequal diffraction of the sun's rays through water and empty space results in a fish-shaped shadow (albeit a faint one) forming on the stream bed.
Earlier tonight I recorded on the previous pages most of my direct observations of the Northwest automobile, home, and grounds, and in a moment I'll refer to my nephew's detailed notes of the remarks of the Northwest family and their servants to set down their apposite comments. I am sure they will be accurate.
I should mention that my great-nephew Dipper is an impressively bright young man—and I'm happy to add that this year he seems to have some awareness of the importance of hygiene! It is no longer a strain on the olfactory nerves to sit with him inside a closed room or in an automobile.
He makes me wish that I knew more about his grandfather, Stanley's and my older brother, Sherman, who, like Stanley, left home in his teens. I can barely remember him. After all, he was twelve years older than we were. I wonder if he was like Dipper, because I see much of myself in my great-nephew, along with just a bit of Stanley. But I'm sleepy and I'm wandering from my subject.
To get back to Dipper: Earlier, at the Northwests' house, he astutely pointed out something that I followed up on, and it frankly makes me wonder if we even understand just what happened. Dipper—not his real name, of course, but he prefers this nickname to his real one—Dipper observed that the partition between the driver's position in the limousine and the passenger compartment was all but opaque, a plastic so deeply tinted that a driver can perceive little or nothing by merely looking into the rear-view mirror.
Dipper and I therefore returned to Mr. Wellington, their butler/chauffeur, and questioned him very particularly: Was he absolutely certain that both mother and daughter had actually sat in the back seat? I shall quote his answers from Dipper's notes:
A: Well, sir, I carried the packages out to the car and stowed them in the boot. While I was busy with that, I lost sight of Mrs. Northwest and her daughter, but I heard the automobile door open and close, and I went up front and sat behind the wheel, opened the small hatch, and asked, 'Where to, Ma'am?' Mrs. Northwest told me to drive home, and I closed the hatch and did just as she requested. However, thinking back on it now, I have to say that I never actually saw Miss Pacifica in the passenger compartment.
Did he hear her?
A: I'm sorry, sir, but honestly I cannot say for certain. I did hear talking, though it wasn't loud enough for me to make out what was said. I assume that Mrs. Northwest was conversing with Miss Pacifica, but I would not absolutely swear to that. I am not at all certain that I heard two voices, and it might have been, for instance, Mrs. Northwest conversing with someone on her mobile phone.
And of course, before he actually reached the Northwest home and parked, the birds attacked, and that's when Pacifica apparently vanished—so he never actually saw her in the back seat, he never saw her leave the car, and he is not sure he even heard her voice during the drive.
This is provoking. Mrs. Northwest insists that she is certain that Pacifica was in the car with her, but we can find no corroboration.
Now, conjuring tricks depend on misdirection. Can something like that be at play here? Would Mrs. Northwest for some reason engineer a fake disappearance? What could her motive possibly be? And I believe myself to be a good enough judge of people to say without uncertainty that she was deeply distressed, heartbroken, one might say, over her daughter's vanishing.
But—could she be mistaken? Could she have somehow been fooled? I can think of some possible ways:
The Shapeshifter might have taken the girl's place while in the store and then changed into a bird upon leaping out of the car. I know from experience that the creature can imitate any form, including humans, down to the smallest detail of their apparel and physical features. However—my monitors tell me the Shapeshifter is still cryogenically frozen. NOTE TO SELF: Visit bunker within the next week and ascertain whether the cryogenics tube requires maintenance.
The size-changing crystals that Dipper and Mabel used last summer might possibly come into play. Conceivably, Pacifica might have used one to shrink herself upon her jumping from the car, and a bird could then have flown off with her. But what would be the point? If she wanted to run away from home, there are less flamboyant ways. NOTE TO SELF: Suggest to Mabel that she might shrink her pet pig, Waddles, to the size of a bunny so she can take him home to Piedmont.
Perhaps the disappearance was managed by some kind of illusion spell. I keep wondering if Pacifica was actually not even in the car at all. Perhaps, as in scenario 1, a magical doppelganger could have deceived her mother. Bill Cipher could certainly pull off that kind of spell, but he is currently almost without power and cannot interfere in the real world. NOTE TO SELF: I hesitate to do this, because Cipher is NOT TO BE TRUSTED, but Dipper has spoken to the much-diminished version him that exists in the Mindscape. Maybe he could learn if Cipher knows of some illusion that might be responsible? LAST RESORT.
There is hypnosis, of course. Could Mrs. Northwest have been hypnotized to imagine that Pacifica was in the car? It could not be retroactive. She could not have been hypnotized after the appearance of the bird swarm—Wendy Corduroy and Mabel witnessed the bird attack, and there was no time for anyone to hypnotize the lady after that began, and no one was in the car to do it on the trip out. Unless—could Wellington be involved more deeply than I think?
Why did the birds even attack? Their movements had purpose and direction. Who—or what—provided that direction?
Or is there something obvious that I'm missing?
One thing is clear: the local authorities aren't doing much to clear up the mystery. Mr. Northwest offered a generous reward if I can find and return the girl, which I declined—but I assured him that all of us in the Pines family will do everything we can to learn what has happened to her.
I don't know. I hope for the best, but I can't help fearing the worst.
I just don't know.
From the Journals of Dipper Pines: This is driving me so crazy!We must be missing SOMETHING. But what?
I mean, great-uncle Ford and Mabel and I even opened the trunk of the car and looked through the shopping bags. We even opened the shoe boxes! And we found the shoes that Pacifica and her mom had bought. We verified the time of the purchases from the credit-card receipts. I even checked to make sure the shoes were Pacifica's size. Heck, I even noted down the styles and colors! Mabel helped with that, though.
On our way back to the Shack, Ford called two of the stores and talked to the clerks who waited on Pacifica. They remembered her being there—they knew her really well, because she buys a lot of shoes. They said her behavior was normal and she didn't seem upset or edgy.
It's a little puzzling that over an hour went by between their last shoe purchase and when the limousine reached the Northwest house. It's only a twenty-minute drive, if it's even that much. Unfortunately, Wellington didn't remember just when they left the mall. He didn't think the drive back was unusually long.
So—check tomorrow to see what happened in those missing forty-five minutes or so? Maybe Mrs. Northwest has some explanation. They might have stopped for a snack and sodas somewhere in the Mall. I don't know. No sense in trying to figure it out without more evidence.
I'm wondering about Pacifica's cousin from New York visiting just at the time she vanished. It feels like a fishy coincidence. But there's really no connection. She never even met him. They're like second cousins or something—he and Pacifica shared a great-great grandfather, I think it was—I'm not really sure—but the old man, Nathaniel, came west and was here in the early days of Gravity Falls.
His oldest son, though, remained in upper New York State. And HIS son was the grandfather (I think—I lost track while Mr. Northwest was explaining) of the cousin. I'm not real sure what relationship that the cousin has to Pacifica.
Anyhow, the two branches of the Northwest family were not so friendly. Preston said that the cousin's dad and mom died early, and the cousin—why didn't I ask his name? The cousin was raised by his grandfather and grandmother. They're, like, philanthropists. I think I spelled that right. They give to a lot of charities.
So I guess they're not very much like OUR Northwests. They didn't stay in contact, really. Christmas-card exchanges, that sort of thing.
Getting late. I'd better try to get some sleep, or I'll be eating my shirt tomorrow.
I almost hate to admit it, but I'm really worried about Pacifica. Grunkle Stan says if anybody can take care of herself, she can, but still—it's so mysterious. I can't help thinking something awful might have happened to her.
I mean, it's not like I'm in love with her—I'm not! But ever since our adventure with the ghost last year, I kind of like her as a friend.
Have to turn in. Maybe tomorrow I'll come up with some idea of how to continue the investigation.
From the Investigation Log of Mabel Pines: Agggh! It's after midnight, and I STILL can't get to sleep. I keep thinking about everything over and over. My brain must be too full. I wonder if this is what Dipper feels like all the time.
I can't decide whether I liked the blue pumps or the light-green flats better. Either of them would look good on Pacifica, and they're real expensive shoes!
Grunkle Ford thinks maybe this is some kind of trick that Pacifica's pulling, but come on! Nobody who'd just bought all those beautiful shoes would run away without taking them!
Tomorrow I'm going to the Mall and I'll question all the clerks in the stores that Pacifica and her mom hit. Oh, oh!
Security tapes!
They MUST have caught Pacifica and her mom on video! Every store has them, and the Mall even has them in the parking lot! If I can't manage to get a look at them, I'm sure that Grunkle Ford can!
Huh. So what if we can see Pacifica trying on shoes? Not sure what good that would do, but it's something, anyway.
One thing though, it might tell us exactly when Welly drove the limo away from the Mall. There's a what do you call it, discrepantsy in time. That word does not look right. Descrepancy. Still looks weird. I know what I mean—there's some time that seems to be missing, and maybe one of the security videos would clear that up.
Waddles is restless tonight. I let him in after Soos and Melody went to bed, but he's grunting and keeps moving around. He sleeps on the floor now 'cause if he gets in the bed, there's hardly any room for me.
I think he can tell that I'm a little upset. We have a strange and beautiful human-pig telepathy.
Hah. I remember when we brought Waddles home to Piedmont last year. I told Mom he had to sleep indoors, and she said, "What about the smell?" and I told her, "It's OK. He got used to Dipper in Gravity Falls!" Hey-o!
Rats. I made myself smile, and that made me feel guilty. We have to find out what happened to Pacifica. We just HAVE to.
"Wendy! You goin' to bed tonight, girl?"
Wendy stood on the porch of the Corduroy log cabin, staring into the night and hugging herself. "Yeah, Dad, in a minute."
She heard the front door open behind her, and Dan Corduroy loomed over her. "What's the matter, baby girl?"
"I told you. Pacifica Northwest. Something really freaky happened to her, and I can't figure what. All those birds, man . . . ." She trailed off and shivered a little.
Her father put his enormous hand on her shoulder. "Buck up, Wendy. The Pines guys are gonna help the sheriff find her. I heard about it in town. They're good men. And that other Pines guy, not the one we thought was Stanford all the time, but the other one, you know—"
"Stanford. The real one. The one that we thought was Stanford turned out to be Stanley."
"Yeah." Dan was silent for a few moments. "You know, I built the first part of that Mystery Shack for the real Stanford. Later on, I thought he started actin' real goofy, but I guess that was when Stanley took his place. To look at them you can't hardly see any difference. Anyhow, I was sayin', that Stanford is a real smart guy. Anybody can figure it out, he can. Don't fret, baby girl."
"Can't help it." Wendy shrugged. "You know, I used to not like Pacifica. I don't mean I, like, hated her or anything, but you know—she was just this stuck-up rich kid. But since last summer, I kinda got to know her. She was at the sleepover in the Shack that I went to. She's got a sort of sweet side that she keeps way down inside herself. Hides it away from people. But, dang, I'd hate it if we never found her. OK with you, Dad, if I help the Pines guys look for her?"
"You know it is," Dan said. He laughed. "Wouldn't make no difference if I told you that you couldn't, would it?"
"Nope." Wendy hugged her father. It was like hugging a small house. "I love you, Dad."
"I double love you, Wendy. Get some rest, girl. You won't be no good to nobody if you're all wore out."
"OK. 'Night."
"Good night, baby girl." Wendy went inside, but for a few minutes Manly Dan stood on the porch and looked up at the stars. Quietly, he murmured, "Lord, look after that little girl, you hear me now?"
Then he, too, went inside. Before long the whole house vibrated to his snoring.
And in the Northwest farmhouse, an extraordinarily handsome young man—he might have been seventeen or eighteen—stood at the window in the guest bedroom, staring out into the night.
He, too, murmured, but not a prayer.
In fact, what he said was "Where the hell did you go, cousin?"