Chapter 2

Emma: Hey, is Ratigan in this story?

Meg: Well, I was threatened last time. So perhaps.

Emma: Can't you give a straight answer for once?

Meg: Uh, no.

The next few days were absolutely wonderful. Mr. Flaversham and Olivia treated me as if I was a part of their family. I took Olivia to the park and played with her after school. I spent the evenings talking with Mr. Flaversham.

New York City was noisy, dirty, and crowded. It was very dangerous at night, when the stray cats hunted out any mouse that was foolish enough to show so much as a whisker in the streets. I did not like it too much, but the Flavershams lived in a nice neighborhood. The slums were the places you had to stay away from.

The day after my arrival I searched out the Rodent Standard Oil Company's headquarters in New York City. I was turned down flat when I asked for personal information regarding Matthew Childres. Instead, I went to the police station and got what I needed. Apparently Standard Oil had a monopoly over the oil industry about twenty years ago, and Childres had played a key role in bribing other companies to merge with his so he could control the market. But no one could do anything about it because there was no law against it at the time. But besides that, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

I sent a telegram to Basil explaining what I had found, but he urged me to keep looking. I pretended to be a reporter for a woman magazine, but Childres refused to see me. His secretary, however, was delighted to tell me anything she knew about Childres. But besides most of the information I got from the police, she only had vague suspicions of any corrupt dealings. She thought he was part of a gang, but then again, anyone in an important position in those days were thought to be in a gang or the mafia. She told me that he also met with foreigners all the time, but I did not see what that had to do with corrupt dealings. She was not too bright.

Mr. Basil

Lower 221B Baker Street

Tried talking to Childres. Turned down. Talked to secretary instead. Unreliable source. Sending list of associates. Expect it in one week. Anything else you want me to do?

Mrs. J. Havers

Basil sighed. He had to give her credit; the girl was trying.

The door opened. Dawson came in drenched from the storm outside.

"It's horrible out there," the doctor gasped as he took off his wet things. Basil nodded in reply. Dawson looked over at the telegram in his hand. "Do you have another case?" he asked.

"No," was Basil's curt reply.

"Then... it's not from Meg, is it?"

"All right! I am the most despicable fiend in the world!" Basil slammed his fist on the tea table.

Dawson sat down and regarded his friend. "I still don't understand. Why did you send her over there again?"

Basil held his head in his hands. "I sent her on a false case. Matthew Childres' requests for Flaversham aren't half as suspicious as I make them out to be."

"You were trying to get her out of the way," Dawson said quietly.

"I am trying to protect her, Dawson. You know as well as I do that traces of Ratigan's organization are gradually being discovered. I don't want her in the path of danger. She'll be much safer in America."

That night the Flavershams and I went to the theater. One the way home Olivia was bombarding me with questions about my acting career.

"How many plays have you done?" she asked as we jolted along in a carriage.

"Not many. I only worked at the London Theater Company for about 9 months."

"Was your husband an actor?"

"No. He was a violinist in the orchestra."

"Did you ever kiss another mouse?"

"On stage?"

"Yes!"

"Well..." I sighed dramatically as she eagerly waited for my response. "Yes."

She gave me a look of absolute shock. "Olivia!" Mr. Flaversham reprimanded.

"It's called acting. It doesn't mean a thing in real life."

"It doesn't? But wasn't your husband angry?"

"Josh? Never. In fact, he'd often tell me to do it more realistically!"

The carriage stopped a block away from Flaversham's Toys. We jumped off and walked the rest of the way to the toyshop.

Mr. Flaversham led the way to the back door of the shop. He went to unlock it, but the door opened before he got the chance to.

The toy maker seemed a bit worried at first, but then he said, "Caleb probably forgot to lock it behind us when we left. That boy is so forgetful sometimes." Caleb, the apprentice, had not wanted to go to the theater. "Caleb?" No answer.

A board creaked. All three of us jumped.

"He's probably asleep," Flaversham whispered, trying to hide the panic in his tone. I made my way to Caleb's little bedroom; Olivia and her father following close behind. I paused before I turned the doorknob. Then I slowly inched it open.

We found the boy on his bed. He was tied and gagged, and sported several dark bruises. Flaversham pushed his daughter in the direction of the door, and whispered urgently, "Run!"

JWJ: (Sarcastically) Oh no, people are in danger once again.

Sarah: It's more interesting that way.

JWJ: This story has no plot.

Leigh: Um, finding Caleb tied on a bed suggests the starts of an excellent plot.

JWJ: Yeah, sure. And I'm the Queen of England.

Leigh: No, you're too ugly.