Dorro was sitting at his desk in the mostly empty library going over accounts, when the door opened and a small hooded figure entered.
The bookmaster checked his pocket watch as if he’d been counting the minutes. “I’ve been waiting for you, young lady.”
“Oh drat! How did you know, Mr. Dorro?” Cheeryup doffed her hood and frowned. “I was so hoping to outwit you for once.”
“I’m sorry, my dear, but I was watching your burrow last night and wondering where that bit of smoke from the back chimney was coming from,” said Dorro grinning. “Of course, I knew it was you—and delightedly so. Of course, you’re a wanted outlaw who should be in gaol, so you must still be careful. If anyone pops in here, dive behind the desk.”
“Mr. Dorro, I’ve made everything a hash, haven’t I? The boys are gone, and we haven’t made any progress solving the mystery of the Grippe.”
“You’re not the only one. I don’t remember as perplexing a case as this, and beyond the sick and ailing, the Dwarves are getting anxious. They want someone to atone for Wump’s murder.”
“I have a confession to make, too.”
Dorro cocked an eyebrow.
“I found Bindlestiff’s papers in the Pie Thief’s cave.”
“That’s wonderful!,” said Dorro.
“But wait—the thief came and stole them out of my burrow, so now they’re lost again.”
“Drat! Could you make anything out on them?”
“Only that they were in a Dwarf tongue and contained pictures of death and disease from smoke. Now that rotten thief has them in his possession again.”
“I must admit that I don’t have the foggiest who it is, this mystical Pie Thief,” wondered Dorro. “He’s tricked us all.”
“Not all of us. I know who it is, Mr. Dorro, and no, I’m not going to tell you. I’m going to catch him myself!”
“You might get hurt! Are you sure?”
“The rotter broke into my burrow and upset the place. I will have my little revenge. Then you can have him.” Dorro could hardly believe these words were coming from a slight twelve-year-old girl with flaxen hair, but there it was.
“Only because it’s you, Cheeryup, would I allow you to continue with this adventure. I shall pursue Wump’s killer and the mystery behind the Grippe. Perhaps our trails will eventually merge. Now here, I made you a basket of food this morning—take it—and I’ll drop more off tomorrow. And stay in contact with me. We need to solve our cases and get the boys home.”
Cheeryup gave the bookmaster a quick hug, grabbed the basket, and dashed out of the library with her hood up, while Dorro resumed his work. A few minutes later, Bedminster Shoe entered. “Ah Mr. Dorro, I hope all is well with you. Say—”
“I know what you’re going to ask, Mr. Shoe, and the answer is of course, yes. You may interview me once the investigation is over!” Dorro pretended to fuss over Bedminster Shoe’s insistence that he document each case, but deep down found it deeply flattering. The village scribe had long threatened to publish these works, and secretly, Dorro hoped he someday would. “Actually, Bedminster, you may have a role to play in this mystery—an important one, too.”
The scribe brightened immeasurably. “Oh, Mr. Dorro, I’d be only too honored.”
“Patience, Bedminster, patience. But when I do come seek you, make sure to have your quill and ink at the ready. Speed will be of the essence.”
The scribe nodded, starry eyed, at the prospect of actually participating in an adventure, as his rather mundane life was largely taken up with drawing up contracts, deeds, wills, and other legal documents for his fellow villagers. It didn’t pay much, but that was his gift, owing to his superior handwriting and lettering skills.
Mr. Shoe scuttled off to file some books, pleased as punch, while Dorro resumed pondering his many, many conundrums.
* * *
Well after the sun had set, Cheeryup stole out of her burrow, well-disguised and carrying a satchel. She snuck around the various lanes and alleys of Thimble Down, headed toward her target, a spot in Fell’s Corner. It took her about ten minutes, dodging drunken villagers, stray cats, and a barking dog or two, until she finally reached her destination. The Ghost’s Walk.
The girl knew this spot had once lured the Pie Thief, and she was hoping it would work again. Quickly, she laid out several towels full of blueberry muffins—her mother’s legendary recipe. If this didn’t bring the scoundrel, nothing would, she figured. She scattered the muffins on various windowsills and ledges. Some would be lost to cats and dogs, but one would snag the thief.
Yet instead of staying and waiting for her quarry to arrive, Cheeryup merely left her prizes and disappeared back to her home. As she knew, the villain would soon become apparent enough and then, revenge.