“I thought I might find you here.”

“What’s up?” Chuckles Greentop replied while reeling in yet another perch. “How’s the investigation going?”

“Yeah, really sorry to hear about your friend Renaldo O’Donnell.”

“He wasn’t really a friend any more. I gave up clowning a while back. Gave up the underground. Above ground’s for me. Fishing mainly. Maybe you can buy a rod as well and go casting with me sometime — lots of good spots around here.”

“Maybe,” Wheeler replies, half hopeful.

“So you’re staying with Old Man Martin I’ve heard.”


“News travels fast here,” Chuckles interjected. “How’s his poor possessed kid doing? Investigation will continue for a while, you know.”

“Can you *explain* that (Doogie possession)?”

“Petty’s a top notch detective. Along with being a fine chef. He gets privileges. That’s all I can say about the matter.”

“Any idea who did it?”

“Inside job, I’ve heard. Clown vs. clown. My strong suggestion is you close up the portal; don’t go down there any more.”

“I can’t do that,” Wheeler replied. “I have to find the heart of the mystery.”

“Well, I could tell you all *about* your heart, but if you are bound and determined — set on your mission — then you’ll find out soon enough. Hope you like goofy stuff.”

She left it at that.

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