The Boy Who Cried Murder

Epilogue

I know everybody has to die at one time or another. But Leonard Watts seemed like the kind of person who was untouchable by death, like if the grim reaper came for him he would just serve it a cup of tea, then confuse it with his crazy thoughts until it forgot what morbid purpose it came to serve. And yet here I was, going to the funeral home of the man who had become just like an uncle.

The funeral itself wouldn't be until tomorrow, and by then I would be gone again. The matron thought it best to keep me busy with work. In fact, she had managed to turn my visit here today into a job of sorts. But at least I could pay my respects while I was here.

I walked up the stone steps to the funeral home, a humble old-fashioned house with a sign in the front yard that read Langley and Sons. There was an older couple walking through the front door, so I quickly dashed in while the door was still open to avoid scaring anyone.

Inside, people dressed in formal attire were milling around, a few crying quietly next to a box of tissues. Most of them were elderly, though not all. As I walked through the rooms, careful not to bump anyone (which wasn't hard since there weren't very many people), I noticed a side room and peeked in. There I found the two junior sleuths, Sandra Yang and Will Sullivan, who I had been looking out for. Sandra was applying rosin to a violin bow with the case propped open, while Will was seated in an armchair flicking a fancy lamp on and off.

As I took a step closer, Will stopped fiddling with the light switch and looked in my direction, though he wasn't sure what he was looking at. He went back to what he was doing before. Had he sensed my presence somehow? Perhaps it was his psychic intuition kicking in. Feeling unnerved, I decided to leave before he caught on.

Then I stopped in my tracks. I had walked into the central room of the funeral home, and in the center of that was a large polished casket with the lid closed. Mr. Watts was inside, resting peacefully. I remembered how he looked after me after the death of my mother, and taking care of an invisible and inaudible child was a challenge he took to greatly. He was such a strange man, and that made him the coolest uncle ever. I regretted not talking to him as often as I should have as of late.

I hardly noticed when Sandra entered the room and sat down with her violin. She began to play a beautiful sad melody, evoking more tears from the gathered people. It was perfect, I bet Mr. Watts would have loved it had he been here.

Soon the funeral home was over and people began filing out the door. I saw Sandra and Will getting ready to leave, the former packing up her violin case. I remembered what I came here to do, so I waited until they were looking away and slipped a piece of paper into the rosin compartment. Then I made my exit out of a back room window, feeling energized by the breeze in contrast to the stuffy air and old-people scent. I wasn't worried about the two kids. That piece of paper contained all they needed to know, the next clue, and if they were truly meant to join our cause, then they would find their way to us.

THE END