The Topher Trilogy

Chapter 3 - The Secret Room-3

Zorn shied away, nervous. Topher was never this nice. Or this earnest. There was always some kind of ulterior motive. He calculated the various ways he might be forced to give up his book.

“You’re not going take it from me?”

“Good Lord, no! Magic books are dangerous. I know about as much about that book as you do the intricacies of the vagina.”

“Topher!”

“I’m serious, Zorn. I would no sooner receive into my care that book than I would eviscerate myself. The last time I played with one, I nearly took off a toe. It’s why I quit reading magic books.”

Zorn gazed upon it.

“But it’s beautiful.”

“See? It’s already got a hold on your psyche. You must remind me to thank you. Had I retained that book I would have undoubtedly lost my soul, as you are evidently in the process of doing—Zorn!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you,” Zorn said. “I’m staring at the book.”

Topher kicked him.

“That’s a vile, despicable, malevolent thing! Get rid of it. Get rid of it, I beg you.”

“Oh yes,” Zorn said, petting its face. “The book is wonderful.”

Two weeks later, Topher was leaning over his bed in his underwear, inspecting his belly button for lint before showering, when Zorn and Gertrude entered the room holding a mannequin smeared with ketchup. He clutched his linen pants to his chest and ducked behind a chest of drawers.

“I’m naked!”

Gertrude tried to think of something that would distract him.

“Are those canary yellow briefs you’re wearing? What happened to your general strike on all undergarments?”

Topher sighed and shrugged.

“Waylaid by necessity, I suppose. Whereas my ten-point Free Ball Plan definitely had its merits, I fear it was sabotaged by callow idealism, doomed to comprehensive failure. Plus, I began to experience drop-sack syndrome. So it’s back to the drawing board. And the canary yellow briefs, I’m afraid.”

“Drop-sack syndrome?”

“Fairly self-explanatory. Visualize.”

Gertrude grimaced.

“We thought you’d run off,” Zorn said. “Don’t you normally train at this hour?”

Topher tried to peer through their legs at the thing they were hiding. “What devil’s gotten into you two? What’s that thing you’re hiding?”

Zorn remained mute. Topher shot him a look, then advanced around the chest of drawers, affording his mammoth roommates a full shot of his bare legs, his briefs, his chest and arms, all bristling with pubescent growth.

Zorn and Gertrude dropped the mannequin and covered their eyes with their hands. The mannequin clonked to the floor with an unexpectedly hollow sound, sprawling at Topher’s feet.

“Where did you get this thing?” he asked.

“Well,” Gertrude said. “We were in the basement, looking for weapons like the ones you found, and I saw her in the corner.”

“I see. And why did you rub her down with ketchup?”

“That was Zorn’s idea. He wanted her to look like she was covered in blood.”

“Where did you get the ketchup.”

“There was a bottle lying right next to her.”

Topher examined the mannequin’s torso.

“I don’t think she’s a she,” he said.

“Oh, she’s a she all right. She’s a she.”

They let that hang there in the air between them.

Gertrude said, “She’ll make a good prank someday. You’ll see.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“You don’t care?”

“I’ve no interest in your morbid perversions. I’m going to shower. And then I’m going to get dressed. Could you finish up with—whatever you’re going to do with that—before I’m done?”

Gertrude opened his wardrobe door and threw the mannequin inside. It struck the back and thumped to the ground. The hangers tined.

“I’m done now.”

Topher grimaced.

“You’re keeping it in your wardrobe?”

“Her name is Sally.”

“You’re keeping Sally in your wardrobe?”

“Of course. Where else are we going to put her?”

Marvin Grimm was already at lunch when they arrived. He waved them over them over, calling out “Did you hear?” repeatedly until they had all taken a seat.

“I have not,” Topher replied. “Zorn? Pass the salt.”

Zorn handed the cellar to his friend.

“What have you heard, Marvin?”

“They found another body. In the middle of the courtyard. This morning.”

Gertrude nearly choked on his eggs.

“Another one?”

“It was partially eaten,” Marvin said. “They had to use a . . . whatchamacallit? Wood handle? Picks stuff up? A shovel.”

Gertrude pushed his plate away.

“Did they say who it was yet?” Topher asked.

Marvin shrugged. He scooped a heap of grits into his mouth.

“They haven’t announced it yet. But I know who it was.”

“What? How?”

“I saw it.”

“You witnessed the murder?”

“No. I told you. I saw them shovel his body into Mr. Floyd’s truck. This morning. I woke up to get a drink of water, and when I passed by the window I saw the whole thing.”

Crews suddenly appeared behind him, carrying a tray filled with steak and bacon.

“Dieting are we, Warren?” Topher asked.

“They found another body,” Crews said.

“We know. Marvin Grimm saw it this morning.”

Crews looked at him.

“What did you see?”

Marvin shrugged. He plugged a piece of bacon into his mouth.

“I saw them shovel a body into Mr. Floyd’s truck.”

Crews finally sat down, a smug smile on his face.

“Did you know that there was a note on the body?”

“A note?” Topher asked. “What did it say?”

Crews withdrew a folded piece of paper from his jacket. It was dappled with red flecks.

“Read it yourself.”

“How did you get this?”

“Mr. Floyd gave it to me. Take it. He told me to tell you to read it.”

Topher wrinkled his nose. He reached over the table, past the ever-greener Gertrude, and pinched it by the corner.

“Excuse me,” Gertrude said, and dashed away, one hand over his mouth and one on his stomach.

Topher read the note.

“It says, ‘No more attacks’.”

“No more attacks?” Zorn said. “Wonderful! Then we don’t need to go back to that horrible place. Can I give back my codpiece?”

Topher slid the note back over the table to Crews, who folded it and put it back in his pocket. “Not quite. If I’m right, this note is meant as a warning.”

“A warning? To whom?”

“To us.”

“To us! Why?”

“I suppose because we infiltrated their lair.”

Zorn chewed thoughtfully on a piece of sausage and swallowed.

“Well,” he said. “I don’t think this is meant for me. All I did was throw one.”

“You i***t. They don’t care. They’re trying to scare us. ‘Don’t attack or we’ll do you the same,’ right Warren?”

Crews, who had been slowly cutting his steak into pieces, nodded.

“That’s about right. I got mine a few months back. Welcome to the club.”

“Well it worked on me,” Zorn said. “No more forays into the forest. Pass the pepper.”

Topher, however, was incensed.

“This is terrorism, and terrorists are cowardly assholes. The day I bow to the demands of gutless pricks is the day I wear a reverse codpiece.”

“I’ve worn a reverse codpiece. Worked out fairly well for me. In the end.”

“Exactly!”

“Topher, does everything have to be a thing with you?”

“Yes. Now, does anybody know who died this time? What did he look like?”

Crews paused for a moment, seeming to think. He scratched his cheek with this fork.

“Not sure. Little blond kid. Nasty skull wound.”

Topher blanched.

“Was he wearing a red jacket and a red hat?”

“How’d you know?”

“I sat next to him at the Badugby match. I got suspicious, and then he got suspicious, and then he ran. I tried to follow him, but he was too fast. Then Zorn killed an old man.”

“I did not! He disappeared.”

“Right. Into that ‘magic book’.”

“You’ll speak nothing of my magic book!” Zorn jabbed his fork at Topher. “Brimstone kicked the s**t out of you, though. Didn’t he?”

“Both of you shut up,” Crews said. “Topher, if they saw you chasing that dead kid, then that note is definitely meant for you. They probably thought he was a traitor.”

“But I didn’t even get to do anything. I was waylaid by idiots before I could catch him.” He pointed at the fading, greenish bruise on his face. “Brimstone tried to put his cigarette out in my eye, but I spit it out.”

“I really did find a magic book,” Zorn said.

Crews sighed.

“The kid had to have done something. Did he tell you anything? Give you anything?”

Though he only had a few minutes before morning classes, Topher sprinted back to Burleigh’s and up to his room. He wrenched open the bottom drawer of his desk and removed the papers the now dead blond boy had lost during the chase. He spread them out over the surface of his desk. The boy had been hiding them, and so they certainly must have been of some importance. He didn’t understand what he was seeing. Drawings of buildings, architectural plans, maps of woods and hills, the creeks and . . .

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

Zorn and Gertrude entered the room with a clatter.

“Topher,” Zorn said. “Why’d you leave breakfast so fast?”

“Aren’t you going to morning classes?” Gertrude asked. “I mean, you have to go to morning classes. We’re not allowed not to.”

Topher waved their protests aside.

“In a moment. Come look at this.”

Zorn and Gertrude came over to the desk, the latter casting worried glances over his shoulder.

“What is it?” Zorn asked.

“The reason that boy was killed. Look.”

“Maps. Building plans. So what?”

Gertrude plunked a finger down on one of the maps.

“That’s Lake Perish. And that’s The Grotto.”

Zorn suddenly saw it.

“You’re right! So that must make this area the Athletic fields, but they’re not marked. And this must be Chainwrought, though it’s about ten times as big.”

“These are the plans for the school,” Topher added. “See? Here’s Trinkle. Here’s Merton, Croix. Here’s Scathewort. And this,” he pulled out the biggest sheet. “This is Burleigh’s.”

Gertrude pointed at the last piece of paper.

“What’s that one?”

First bell sounded. The students would be heading for class.

“I don’t know,” Topher said. He cleared the other papers out of his way. “It looks like it’s underground somewhere.”

“But where?”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to read over the rest of the maps to figure it out. But look.” He pulled the maps of the woods and surrounding land out of the pile and poured over them.

Gertrude worried his fingers. “We only have a few minutes, Topher,” he said. “We’ll be late, and we can’t be—”

“I know! I know! Dammit!” Topher swept the maps and plans off his desk. “Damn this place! Damn you both for landing us here!”

“Us?” Zorn said, mystified and enraged. “Topher, it was your plan.”

“And if you two dolts had carried it out correctly.”

The warning bell sounded, putting an abrupt end to the argument. All three scattered about the room, picking up books and bags and other random articles.

“Meet back here after lunch!” Topher cried as they thundered out the door.

Three hours later, Zorn entered the room with Gertrude close behind. They were hiding something in their furs, cradling their arms beneath their bellies to keep it from falling out. They looked guilty or sick, like they’d killed a puppy or eaten too much at lunch. Topher, seated at his desk, barely looked up when they entered. He kept playing with the maps. He placed them side by side, then he rearranged them, then he mixed them up and rearranged them again.

“You weren’t at lunch,” Zorn said. “We smuggled you some food.”

Gertrude gently closed the door and they shuffled around to Zorn’s desk to dump their load: sandwiches and muffins, apples and bananas, silverware, three bowls of potato salad covered with plastic wrap, nine cookies, and a piece of chocolate cake, also covered with plastic wrap.