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again in New York-- The Blue Flower Case hadn't ended but only just begun-- "It's unsettling, Phil." I'd dreamed of it again last night, the blue flower's strange perfume, before the doe entered the cabin through the door left ajar and nipped me on the ear as I dozed in the chair by the blue-flamed fire-- Before Glad arrived drunk and told the story of Jim and the bull and I went to bed and hid within the Horse and entered Troy to free Helen, then woke to find the nude statue in the river by the cabin--an old joke on newcomers Blair's father-in-law liked to play, Blair had forgotten to warn me-- "It gives me a chill, makes you really wonder about the hidden nature of things--" And later met Viv Stone and petted Blossom her tame deer in the lovely yard with blooming purple 
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wisteria and she'd insisted I had to meet Beulah--"If you don't hurry, you'll miss the chance of a lifetime"-- And Blair nearly hit the wild buck and doe and two fawns as we rushed past Web Olson's famous Bar-Circle Ranch after the radio call, to question Frankie Two Shoes about the flying saucer and the dismembered steer and meet the Air Force who'd lost the secret part . . . . At the jail, Blair had sent us home, while he and Ray Bell went to interview Bill Sharp, who ran a hardware store and dealt in black-market electronics pilfered from Walker Field-- "We'll see where that leads," Blair said. "Take off and go fishing, before it gets dark. You've had enough of Blue Monday." "It's an odd series," I said. "Of coincidences." I was being led down a maze, with something shadowed at its center, Web Olson or Charles Whitman,  |
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