CHAPTER 3
Je dis que rien ne m'épouvante,
Je dis, hélas! que je réponds de moi;
Mais j'ai beau faire la vaillante...
Au fond du coeur je meurs d'effroi!
(translation)
I say that nothing can frighten me.
I say, alas, that I respond to myself;
But I play the part of the courgeous one in vain...
From the bottom of my heart, I die of fear!
—Je dis que rien ne m'épouvante
From the opera "Carmen" by Georges Bizet
Stephanie rose from her desk and slowly crossed the classroom floor, trying to block out the staring faces of her classmates. Kids were only ever called out of class for one of two reasons, and because Stephanie had never broken any of the (major) school rules, she instantly began praying for the safety of her loved ones. Her thoughts were not sated when she met up with a pensive Bessie by the school doorway.
"Is Uncle Milford okay?"
The little girl made a valiant attempt at optimism as the silent woman led her through the streets. Soon, they crossed the threshold of Lazytown's tiny police station.
Thankfully, her hopes were fulfilled. She ran into the awaiting arms of her uncle. His usual docile cheerfulness had obviously been ravaged by something, but at least he was still in one piece.
"Something bad has happened, Stephanie."
She looked up at the nearby Sportacus, who shared Milford's manner of suspended dread. The elf had his arms crossed and was leaning against a mahogany desk. Sitting at this desk was the face of Lazytown's finest, Officer Lolli.
Stephanie was unsure why he bore this title. She guessed it may have been his actual name, but the lore imparted by other children in Lazytown claimed it was because of the man's rotund physique (not to mention the generous amount of British boiled sweets he always carried around with him, even while on patrol).
"As of 10.37 a. m. this morning, your great-uncle Murgatroid has been reported missing," the officer rattled off systematically.
This gave the young girl reason for pause. She had a beloved Aunt Susie in the city, a mess of second or third cousins elsewhere in town, and there had been mention of distant relatives in Australia. But to Stephanie's current knowledge, that was the total extent of her living family members beyond the Meanswell residence. This had been the first ever mention of a great-uncle Murgatroid.
"He's on your mother's side. That is to say, I'm his nephew," Milford explained. "He lives alone on the South side of town, and I go to visit him every Thursday morning. When I called upon him today, the poor fellow was nowhere to be found."
The Mayor then cast his gaze expectantly to Sportacus, whose own gaze shifted down to his booted feet.
"Late last night, my crystal beeped," he confessed, "but I couldn't find the source of the emergency."
Stephanie felt a surge of sympathy for her friend. Sportacus had a strong, fundamental sense of duty to his role, and having his precious crystal let him down must have been a hard blow to take.
"Maybe it wasn't that bad of an incident," she asserted. "Maybe great-uncle Murgatroid is perfectly alright now."
Officer Lolli flipped open a notebook lying before him. Without looking up at the others, he said:
"I interviewed the missing individual's neighbours, and I ascertained from their statements that his last known whereabouts were in the breaking and entering of the house next door to his own." He ended this with a disapproving cough.
"Next door?" Stephanie repeated.
"That would be Deverhill Manor," Bessie replied.
A silence filled the air. Everyone present seemed to grasp some kind of sinister implication from this.
"Well…" Stephanie piped up, "we should go and search it, shouldn't we? He could still be in that horrible old house!"
"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Lolli stated. "Not only is said property a safety hazard, run-down from years of neglect, but we will have to notify the owner in order to conduct a proper investigation."
He flipped through a few more pages in his notebook. "The record shows the premises to be in the name of Mr. Robert Rotten."
**
The vile, ringing sound of someone persistently thumping on the steel hatch door filtered down into the lair once again. Robbie awoke, and could feel the vein in his left temple start to throb angrily. What did the elf want now?
Robbie had felt so thrown off after the interruption from the previous night, that the moment Sportacus left, he clambered back down into his lair and went straight to sleep. He had been working on his latest opus for nearly forty hours straight, and the break in concentration had returned him to reality. Every joint was stiff and sore, and his usually hyperactive mind was sluggish, spent and screaming out for rest.
Ah, but it would ultimately be time well spent. It was a grand heavy object, requiring some of the finest handiwork Robbie had ever executed. Long had been the nights on which he had grieved over his dismal position in this blasted town. The product in creation would finally remove the disheartening complications that had lain in his way for so long. Once it was finished, Robbie would be well primed to finally overcome his chirpy, ever-frustrating foe.
His body craved sugar. As he creakily battled his way onto his feet, he mentally composed a lecture to growl at Sportacreep about parting a poor villain from his precious nourishment.
"Do you have any idea what—"
"Hi."
Robbie blinked the glare of daylight away. Surrounding him was a whole semicircle of townies. Milford was waving a feeble hand in greeting. Robbie noticed he was flanked by not only Sportagoof, but Officer Lolli. He barked out a short, thorny laugh.
"If it isn't the boys in blue," he teased.
A nightstick abruptly met the bottom of his long chin.
"You watch your tone, Rotten. You're dealing with men of authority."
"Whatsa matter, Lolli? Finally sick of letting the elf do your job for you? Law enforcement requires more than just threats to civilians, you know."
Lolli turned a colour similar to that of the villain's attire. Before any bridges were burned, Sportacus stepped in.
"Robbie, the Mayor's uncle has disappeared in your father's house. We need to investigate."
The mention of Deverhill Manor seemed to have an effect on Robbie that was tenfold of what it had done to the others. He had flinched at Sportacus' statement, and was now staring at him as if he had just slapped the man in the face.
After a few strained seconds: "Nonsense. The place has been empty for fifteen years."
"But the neighbours saw great-uncle Murgatroid go in there!"
Robbie looked down, regarding Stephanie for the first time. She was wearing a watery, puppy-dog expression, one that was a favourite posture of hers in times of difficulty.
He drew in a breath, turning slowly back to the elf.
"And what if I refuse you entry?"
"We'll break in by force, under my search warrant," Lolli answered curtly. "You're beaten, punk." (Milford winced at Lolli's strong language.)
At long last, Robbie's shoulders drooped in a show of defeat.
"I've got the keys. I won't have your brute hands breaking my padlock. I'll come along to supervise, if I must."
**
By the time the group had arrived outside the derelict house, it was afternoon. The sun was still floating high above the horizon, but little of its light was able to infiltrate the sprawling garden.
Robbie produced a cluster of old keys, struggling with them in the rusty padlocks that hung upon the iron gate. As the others milled about, waiting for access, Sportacus noticed the demeanour which had taken hold of the man. His lips were pursed tight, as if he were afraid to say anything. His usually lively, liquid features had been set in a rigid frown. It sunk in for the elf that asking Robbie to come here was a much bigger favour than it seemed. If anything, he had probably done his best to forget that this place even existed.
"Come on," he muttered sternly, finally swinging open the gates. They gave out an ear-splitting shriek, cutting down trendrils of weeds in their path.
A string of flashlights were switched on as the group plunged into the murk, treading along carefully in a single file.
"Keep your eyes peeled," Lolli advised redundantly.
A rustle came from the undergrowth, and Stephanie trod boldly towards it, shining her flashlight on the offending section of ground.
"Stay with me, Stephanie," Sportacus instructed, placing his arm on the child's shoulder as a frighted skink scurried out from under the leaves.
Robbie grappled with the lock on the grand front door for a good five minutes. The more robust men in the party decided to break it down with a nearby log, and the rotted oak panels gave way like wet cardboard.
The first few minutes inside were spent simply absorbing the dust-caked surroundings, little pools of torchlight passing slowly over peeling wallpaper and heavy antique furniture laced with cobwebs. Eventually, Milford rallied enough nerve to break the dreamlike silence.
"We should start moving through this floor, perhaps."
They shuffled along the hallway, Lolli leading them towards the doorway of what looked like the formal lounge. A few pale strings of plant-life poked through cracks in the wall and the patchy carpet, and Milford gave a sudden yelp as he tripped upon one.
For some reason, this shook Sportacus to the core. It wasn't just the suddeness of the noise— as the Mayor's foot had made contact with the trailing stem, it had felt as if the entire house had tremored in reaction. He looked upon the faces of his companions. No-one else had noticed.
Before he passed into the next room, he looked back towards the front door. Robbie was still standing there, unheeding of the others. His gaze was blank and directionless. The hero wanted to beckon to him, but the weight of the atmosphere was too much.
He passed into the formal lounge, reminding himself to breathe.
"Uncle Murgatroid?"
Milford's call heralded no echo.
Stephanie had found the piano that Sportacus had examined the night before. Her little hand hovered in the air, and Sportacus recognised the temptation to touch the beautiful item.
"Uncle Murgatroid?"
Milford slowly began to progress into the next room along, which was enveloped by even deeper darkness. He stepped solidly upon its creaky threshold. A strangled cry reached them from the other side of the house.
Everyone's heads instantly snapped up like rabbits detecting a prowling wolf. Someone inhaled a slow, ragged breath.
"You'd… you'd better come here," Robbie called to them, his voice shaky.
With a diffident pace, Sportacus advanced back out into the hallway, following the direction Robbie's voice had come from. After about a minute of searching, the elf found him backed against a the frame of another doorway. He had clamped a hand over his ashen face, distressed eyes concentrated on the ceiling.
"What…"
Sportacus looked up as well, but there was nothing to observe other than a few large patches of mould. He heard the footsteps of the others approaching behind him.
Stephanie's terrified scream alerted Sportacus to the dead body lying upon the floor.
The wide, glazed, lifeless eyes of Murgatroid Meanswell were also staring up at the ceiling.
**
A/N: Ohnoes, a corpse in Lazytown. D:
Th character of Officer Lolli is from the Latabær plays. Here I've interpreted him as being truly unpleasant and authoritative, the Lazytown equivalent of Douglas Adams' Vogons. Obviously Stephanie will be quite prominent from here on in, we will be learning about HER family too at points throughout the story.