Setting down the pottery shard, Mitchell leaned across the desk. “Small or large, on the end of a finger or lifted by a dozen men, the idea is the same. What did Horace say? ‘Man is nothing but a puppet on a string’?
“You know, when I was about eight years old, I saw a Punch-and-Judy show, and the whole time Punch fought with Judy, the crocodile sneaked up behind him, and the man lifted the slapstick to strike the woman and hit the crocodile on the backswing. Completely by accident. Again and again. We kids shrieked and hollered, ‘Look out, look out!’ but Punch never bothered to glance over his shoulder. Those jaws would open wide, a mouth filled with sharp teeth, and slap, down he would go. After a few rounds, the croc got wise and sneaked around to the other side. Behind Judy.”
“What happened next?” Theo asked.
“He ate her up. First try.”
Egon laughed. “There’s a lesson there.”
“And then Punch started deliberately hitting the crocodile with the slapstick, and all the children roared. What the lesson is depends upon your point of view. Turns out all right for Mr. Punch, not so much for Judy and the crocodile. I can remember it like yesterday.”
“So you will help us?” Theo asked.
“I had nightmares about that crocodile for months. One bite and she was gone.”
Thumping his fist on the desk, Egon said, “Enough of your Greek and crocodiles. Your car, man. We came to ask if we could borrow your car.”
“To hunt for puppets?”
“Or at least the puppeteers,” Theo said. “To see if we can find out what happened to my wife.”
“And you think she is a puppet? She underwent a metamorphosis?”
“Precisely,” Egon said.
Theo contradicted him immediately. “Well, no, not exactly. We just need a car. To go to Vermont for a few days. See my mother-in-law and learn what we can about this puppet that looks like my wife.”
“Why didn’t you say so? Of course you can borrow my car,” Mitchell said. “On one condition. I want to help. You let me drive.”
“Our bags are packed,” Egon said. “We knew you couldn’t say no.”
“An adventure,” Mitchell said. “Boys, I would go to Hades and back for a good quest.”
*
They took the scenic route along the Hudson River shrouded in the gloom of an early November Friday afternoon. Mitchell drove his old Ford station wagon slowly and carefully, regaling his captive passengers with tales from the classical myths. Egon kibitzed from the backseat, pointing out the state police lurking on the shoulders long before the others noticed. They passed into Vermont, almost without realizing the time and the landscape flying by. The mountains rose dramatically from the road on the way to Bennington. Using the map on his smartphone, Theo barked out the directions, and they arrived just north of town at his mother-in-law’s farmhouse by dusk.
After all that had happened, he was not prepared to see Dolores again. Now that they were back in touch, he had heard a note of forgiveness and hope over the phone, especially after she had shared the news about the Halloween parade. Still, he could not be sure what she might say or do in person. And certainly not how she might react to his two friends in tow.
Mitchell and Egon walked up the wheelchair ramp to the porch, and Theo took the stairs. Waiting for them at the front door stood Mrs. Mackintosh. He had forgotten about the Scottish next-door neighbor who often looked in on Dolores and helped her with the domestic chores. With a crook of her index finger, she bade them be quiet as they entered the house.
“The poor dear was up to high doh,” she said. “Now she’s dead tired from all the anticipation ever since you called to say you were coming. I tucked her into bed for a wee nap, and she’ll be cracking to see you after a spell.”