The dark blue sky felt like a weight on Muffy's shoulders as she readied herself to leave Fern's side. "Are you sure you're up to this?" the poodle girl asked her.

"I don't really have a choice," said Muffy. "He's my dad, and I have to live with him." Glancing down at the space dress that Fern had rolled up into a neat ball, she added, "Keep it secret. Keep it safe. Don't show it to anybody until Mr. Cooper shows up."

"All right," said Fern, gripping the wad of alien fabric in her lap. "But how will he know where to find me?"

Muffy pondered her question for a moment. "Tell me where you'll be two hours from now," she instructed Fern. "Whisper it in my ear."

"Two hours from now she'll be in bed," said Mrs. Walters from the driver's seat.

As she walked reluctantly in the direction of the Crosswire condo, Muffy relayed to Mr. Cooper via cell phone the location Fern had whispered to her. "She almost never goes there," she told the man. "It's the last place my dad will think to look for the dress."

"Then that's where I'll be," was Mr. Cooper's reply. "You can count on me, Muffy. I won't let it fall into the hands of those mobsters."

Relief flooded her heart as she folded up her phone and stepped into the apartment. The scene was almost unchanged from how she had left it—her parents were idling in front of the television, and the box, as yet unopened, lay on a table. He's making this too easy, she thought.

"Muffin?" said Mr. Crosswire in an emotionless tone, as if nothing bitter had transpired during the last hour.

"Daddy," said Muffy, faking sincerity as best she could, "please, please don't give my dress to Mr. Gelt. I'll do anything you say."

Her father stood up and began to speak apologetically. "Please try to understand, honey. I didn't find out about Gelt's Mafia connections until after the initial interview. I didn't know until he called me and threatened to send people to hurt us unless I gave him the dress."

Muffy put her hands on her hips. "Was Fern telling the truth?" she demanded. "Was it you at the schoolyard?"

Mr. Crosswire stared sheepishly at his sandals. "Yes, it was me," he admitted. "I had to get the dress away from you without breaking your heart or frightening you."

"You did a great job, Dad," said Muffy facetiously. "I wasn't frightened at all when you grabbed me and started stripping me naked."

"Listen, Muffin," said her father with sudden haste. "We can talk about this another time, but right now Mr. Gelt's coming to pick up the dress, and he'll be here any minute."

The news pierced the speech center of Muffy's brain like a dagger. "Ge-Ge-Ge-Gelt's co-co-co-co-coming n-n-n-n-now?"

"That's right," Mr. Crosswire confirmed. "He's been staying at a hotel in Elwood City for the past few days."

"No, Daddy!" cried Muffy in terror. "You can't! You mustn't!"

"My mind's made up," said her father sternly. "I don't want to hear another word about it until Mr. Gelt has come and gone."

There's only once chance, thought Muffy, and she sprang with all her might toward the table where the package lay. Mr. Crosswire, having longer arms and more speed, snatched the box away before she could so much as touch it.

Her book bag dangling over her shoulder, Muffy's dress stuffed into her book bag, Fern made her way into the Westboro apartment building with the intention of visiting Francine. A repeated pounding noise from the basement level distracted her from that purpose, and she descended the stairs to find its source.

Next to the central heating unit, she discovered, a leather-bound punching bag had been installed on a flexible coil that ran from floor to ceiling. Mr. Frensky, clad in nothing more than boxer shorts, sneakers, and a sleeveless T-shirt, was forcefully hitting the bag again and again with his bare fists. Drops of sweat flew from his forehead as he grunted and swung his arms.

"Uh…hi," said Fern bashfully. "What are you doing?"

The man lowered his fists, and the punching bag quivered to a stop. "I'm…getting ready to…defend my honor," he said through heavy breaths.

"It looks more like you're getting ready to defend your title," Fern remarked.

Mr. Frensky chuckled patronizingly. "You'll understand when you're older. No, I take that back. You're a girl."

While the poodle girl tried to formulate a response, two more voices joined the group—those of Francine and her mother. "Give it up, Fern," said Francine, stepping onto the stone floor of the basement with shoeless feet. "He's hopeless. He actually thinks he can beat Pokey."

"Maybe I can, maybe I can't," said Mr. Frensky, hurling a few more punches at the bag. "But if I go down, I'll take a piece of him with me."

"I keep telling him that violence never solved anything," his wife related to Fern. "But when Oliver makes up his mind about something, it stays made up. He's always been that way."

"I couldn't agree more, Mrs. Frensky," said Fern wisely. "Violence never did solve anything."

"You don't watch many National Hockey League games, do you, Fern?" said Francine. "And why are you here, anyway? 'Cause I know you didn't come to watch my dad train."

Fern grinned at her. "I just need a place to hang for the next hour or two. No more questions, okay?"

After moments of anxious sitting and waiting, Muffy heard the knock at the door that she so dreaded. Please let it be George, she thought. Or Francine, or Buster, or the Gestapo…anyone but Mr. Gelt.

"Come in, Mr. Gelt," said her father with a forced smile.

The sight of the old rabbit man, his beard, his hat, his cane, and his white spats offended Muffy's eyes, but she dared not speak. "I have no time for idle chatter," he said in a menacing tone. "Give me the dress, and I shall leave you and your family in peace."

"Nothing would please me more," said Mr. Crosswire as he carefully unloosed the string around the package. Under Gelt's lustful gaze, he yanked the lid from the box to expose its contents to view.

Omigosh, here it comes, thought Muffy. I've got to be brave. I've got to be brave…

"No!" exclaimed her father, his eyes resting on a humble bath towel that was still slightly moist from use. "NO!" Whirling, he snapped, "MUFFY! WHERE'S THE DRESS?"

The girl, in spite of the fear clawing at her heart, put on a confident front. "What's it worth to you? And what's it worth to you, Mr. Meriwether Moneybags Gelt?"

"Impudent girl!" snarled the now-furious old man. "Do you know who you're trifling with?"

"The dress, Muffy!" said Mr. Crosswire frantically. "Where is it? Where?"

"It'll cost you," she said, her hands concealed behind her back. "Half a million dollars. Yes, that should be more than enough to keep Mavis from going blind."

"I'll show you the life of the blind!" roared Gelt. His cane swung upward, and to Muffy's view it appeared to suddenly be as long as the entire room. A blast of pain rocked her skull as the tip of the wooden rod struck her across the eyes.

"Stop it!" begged her father. "Stop hurting my little girl!" His wife, with a cry of concern, knelt down and tended to the spot where Gelt's cane had broken her daughter's skin. Muffy, for her part, only whimpered.

"I've been patient with you long enough, Crosswire," said the old man with aplomb.

Leaning over against his cane, Gelt pressed his dry lips to Mr. Crosswire's cheek. The kiss was more like a peck, but it left the man trembling as he had never trembled before.

Muffy, her head spinning, was able to stand in time to watch the unwelcome visitor march through the door and away from her family. "Well, that wasn't so bad," she muttered quietly. "Still, it would've been better without the hitting."

Mrs. Crosswire approached her husband, whose face had turned ghastly pale. "Ed?" she called to him.

"M-Millicent," he stammered. "You saw what he did. You saw what he did."

"Yes, dear," his wife replied.

"What?" said Muffy, rubbing her sore, bleeding temple. "What did he do?"

"That," said Mr. Crosswire, pointing a shaky finger at the departing Gelt, "was the kiss of death."

To be continued