The Journal of Curious Letters (The 13th Reality #1)

Tick decided that last part was Norbert’s way of saying “etcetera” and held in a laugh.

“I assured the fella I’d take care of it and he left. Wasn’t a half-hour later when the scariest woman I’ve ever laid eyes upon came a-stomping in, dressed from head to toe in nothing but yellow. And she was bald—not a hair on her noggin to be found. Called herself Mistress Jane, and she was mean. I’m telling you, mean. You could feel it coming off her in waves.” Norbert shivered.

“What did she want?” Dad asked.

“She was a-looking for Master George, which told me right away that the British gent must be a good guy, because Lemony Jane surely wasn’t.”

Tick felt like the final mystery of a great book had been revealed to him. The source of the letters suddenly had a name, a description. He was no longer a couple of initials and a blurred image. M.G. had become Master George. From England. And he was the good guy.

“She threatened me,” Norbert continued. “She was cruel. And I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Still can’t. She’s been in my dreams ever since, telling me she’s gonna find out I lied to her.”

“Lied to her?” Dad repeated.

“Yes, sir. Told her I’d never met anybody named Master George, and I hid the letters under the counter before she could see them. Flat out lied to her, and she told me bad things would happen if she ever found I’d a-done it. And done it, I did.”

“So . . .” Tick started, “you quit your job because you were scared of her?”

Norbert looked down at his feet as if ashamed of himself. “You got me all figured out, boy. Poor Norbert Johnson hasn’t been the same since the day I met that golden devil. Quit my job, went on welfare, borrowed money. I been hiding in this house ever since. Only reason I met the tall lady who gave me the letters is because I heard a noise out in the backyard.”

“I thought you said she came out of a graveyard,” Dad said.

“She did. Like I said, back behind my house is an old, old cemetery. Got too old, I reckon, so they built another one closer to downtown.”

“Mothball,” Tick said quietly.

“Huh?” Norbert replied.

“Her name is Mothball. The lady who gave you this letter.” Tick slipped it from his journal and held it in his hand.

Norbert looked perplexed. “Well what in the Sears-and-Roebuck kind of name is that?”

“She said her dad was in a hurry when he named her, something about soldiers trying to kidnap them.”

Norbert did nothing but blink.

“Never mind.” Tick turned to his dad. “Why in the world would she have given him the sixth clue?”

His dad furrowed his brow for a moment, deep in thought. “Well, maybe it’s like I said—I think they wanted us to be proactive and seek out information, not just wait around to find it. Maybe they went back to all the towns they mailed the letters from and gave copies of the clues to the postal workers who would cooperate. They knew if we did some investigating, going to the source would be the most logical step.”

Tick thought for a second. “Dad, I think you nailed it.”

“I’m brilliant, my son. Brilliant.” He winked.

Norbert cleared his throat. “Excuse me for interrupting, folks, but what in the name of Kermit the Frog are you guys a-talking about? You came here asking me questions, but it sounds like you know a lot more than I do.”

Dad leaned over and patted Tick on the shoulder. “My boy here, the one who’s receiving these letters, is trying to figure out the big mystery behind them. We think it was a test of sorts to see if we’d seek you out, which is why you were given the sixth clue to give to us.”

Norbert nodded. “Ah. I see.” He rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders.

“Look,” Tick said. “Do you know anything else about Master George, Mistress Jane, Mothball, anything?”

Norbert shook his head in response.

“Well, then,” Tick said. “I think we’ve got what we came for. Dad, maybe we should get going. I can read the clue while you drive.” Tick tried his best to hint that he didn’t feel very comfortable in Norbert’s house.

“Just a minute.” His dad looked at their host. “Mr. Johnson, you’ve done a great service for us and we’d like to return the favor. Is there, uh, anything we can do to help you, uh, get your nerve back and go back to work?”

Norbert didn’t reply for a long time. Then, “I don’t know. It’s awfully kind of you to offer. I guess I’m just too scared that woman is gonna come back for me and string me up like a fresh catch of salmon.”

“Well, let me tell you what I think,” Dad said, holding up a finger. “I agree with you one hundred percent. I think this Mistress Jane person must be evil, because we wholeheartedly believe what M.G.—Master George—is doing must be a noble cause because he wants my son’s help. And we’ve committed to that cause heart and soul, as you can tell.”