Magnum, P.I., The Movie

I don’t think a movie, if you mean a theatrical release, would now fly. They had their chances in the 90s. I do think a case can be made for a “special.” It can be called a TV movie, but I will stick with a special. Probably best to keep it at 90 minutes. All or almost all is to be in Hawaii, perhaps revisiting locations of days gone by. Tom Selleck, Larry Manetti, and Roger E. Mosley are to be in it. Can they act as they were then? Two levels of acting may be necessary. To be as they were and as the special’s script calls for.

I would not place it in 1989 or 2014. Put it at 1998 or close by. It would be a good idea to work into the script some 90s Hawaiian structures or events. I don’t have a script. I offer some situations, updates, and the core idea for the special. So what’s the big deal about my offering? Others can do as they wish. As far as take it or leave it, I am well aware it will be overwhelmingly left alone. Nevertheless…

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It starts with Rick ducking objects being tossed at him by his wife. He is still running a nightclub, and she wants no more of the criminal types and women at his work. As he is ducking, he is trying to come up with an alternative to the club. After a time, he stops, says “food” and gets bonked in the head.

Then to T.C., and T.C.’s son isn’t home for dinner very often recently. The son is gone most evenings and on weekends. He says it is a surprise for T.C. But T.C. thinks what the son is up to will be the wrong kind of “surprise.” It turns out the son is attending a flight school. T.C. still has a snazzy chopper for his tourist business but he tends to blackout now in the tight turns. The snazzy chopper provides limited seating for a combination of a thrill ride and scenic views. The son intends on piloting the snazzy chopper and having the business expand its “demographics” by providing a service for the more sedate and elderly with a new chopper. The new chopper is sedate, carries more than the snazzy one and travels in a slow, straight line. T.C., according to his son, is to pilot the new chopper. Also, the son wants the business to expand into providing food too. It turns out that the prime contractor for Island Hoppers will be Rick’s new catering business. T.C. is at home when his son flies in the snazzy chopper as a surprise.

I have my doubts Mr. Hellerman will want to step before the cameras. Perhaps he could be a voice on the phone, or Magnum could react to Higgins’ supposed phone conversation. His actions, as heard by Magnum, could be supplied by Magnum’s voice-overs. In any event, Magnum is on the phone talking to Higgins who is in London. Higgins lives in a cottage in the English countryside when he isn’t in London working on a book about British military history. London is expensive and Higgins’ lodgings in London are provided for him by Robin Masters.

Robin Masters no longer owns the Robins Nest. He is doing about one book every five years. He maintains his presence in Hawaii with a two-story house having three bedrooms, and an attached two-car garage on two acres.

Also in London is Magnum’s daughter who works as an intern for an investment-banking firm. She frequently travels in the course of her work. When in London, she keeps tabs on Higgins, When in London, Higgins keeps tabs on Magnum’s daughter. They both report informally to Magnum. 

Magnum is out of the Navy. He is going to Hawaii to visit Rick and T.C. as he does every few years. He usually stays a week or two but now he doesn’t know what will come after the visit.

On the flight to Hawaii, Magnum is charmed by a woman who has her hair in a mess, baggy clothes, and thick glasses. Why he is interested in her, he doesn’t know. It is what is. She is a wildlife woman (WW) – she will be in a remote part of the Hawaiian Islands to verify if a species of bird exists and in what numbers and if it is in danger of environmental hazards. After three weeks she will go to London, where her employers, a wildlife foundation, will determine her next assignment – the South Pacific or the Amazon.

Magnum, Rick, and T.C. meet and tell Magnum of their new ventures. Magnum invites WW to meet Rick and T.C. She shows up at Rick’s for dinner and Magnum doesn’t recognize her. She is dressed well, hair done expertly, contact lenses, not ugly but no raving beauty, and charming and with character. At the dinner, she invites Magnum to accompany her on her expedition. He agrees.

During this foray into remote Hawaii, there is a scene in which they woo (look it up in your Funk & Wagnalls) each other without touching one another in a small room, clothes on, using body language and their words. Magnum decides he wants to be with her. She wants him but she has a career and a PhD. He has only an ex-career.

WW goes to London. Magnum is staying at Robin Masters’ house. The Ferrari or other fine car is in the garage and at Magnum’s disposal. Mrs. Brown looks after the place. She is cook, gardener, housekeeper, and hostess. There is one large hall in the house for civic and social functions but no gala blasts are hosted at the house. If large groups come in, caterers (like Rick) provide what is needed. Two dogs (Mercury and Mars) are Mrs. Brown’s companions and provide personal security. She gets along famously with everyone. Mr. Masters visits twice a year. No art treasures are in the house. There is no  wine cellar though there is a wine closet.

Magnum decides, until he rejoins WW, he will apply himself to PI work. What else? He tells Rick and T.C. that he is on retainer with a giant insurance company. Rick and T.C. later find out there is no pay for Magnum if he doesn’t get the return of the Faversham diamonds. Rick and T.C. unexpectedly visit Magnum in the insurance company’s warehouse-like building of a thousand very small windows where in Magnum has a tiny cubicle. The insurance jerk (I J) that is Magnum’s boss tells Magnum that Rick and T.C. must leave and that Magnum has a staff meeting in 15 minutes.

The Faversham diamonds are a necklace worn by Mrs. Faversham (in her 80s) at any excuse – civic or social. Higgins, of course, knows her or of her. The diamonds are known to Higgins and he tells Magnum they are worth at most $20,000 because of numerous imperfections. Magnum’s finder fee is 10% if recovered very soon. Magnum doesn’t want Rick and T.C. to know any of this.

Higgins also informs Magnum that the Romorantin-Lanthenay diamonds, also a necklace, a private pleasure of Madame Dizier, have gone missing. They are priceless. They have not been seen in public for 8 years. Madame Dizier has been known to be quite embarrassed by the little known fact that the “R-L’s” look remarkably like the Favershams, but one can quickly spot the most glaring flaw in the Favershams (Fs) if the light is right and one uses a magnifying glass.

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The heart of the special is comedic. Magnum soon realizes that the same thieves have stolen both the F and the R-L necklaces. The thieves are French and don’t “fit” well in Hawaii (they have their own “imperfections”) which helps Magnum find out who they are and where they are. They intend on “recovering the Fs “ but really returning the R-Ls to Mrs. Faversham as if they were the Fs. Thus, the R-Ls will be hidden in plain sight until such time as they need to be reclaimed by the thieves to complete a deal. The thieves will then return the true Fs to Mrs. Faversham and retake the R-Ls.

But Magnum steals, from the thieves, the Fs. Then the thieves break into Magnum’s safe but do not take the Fs. Magnum, in turn, breaks into the thieves’ safe but does not take the RLs. Later, Magnum knows where the RLs are. The thieves don’t know where the Fs are. The Magnum has a fake F necklace made. The thieves counter with a fake R-L. At one point, four necklaces are in circulation. Rick has one, T.C. has one, Magnum has one, and the thieves have the fourth one. Magnum knows quickly enough which ones are his fakes and has the quick check for the Fs. The thieves aren’t sure if they have the R-Ls because the necklaces switch owners at a rapid pace since Magnum, or Rick, or T.C. place theirs in different pawnshops or with different fences, do car tosses and football-like handoffs (see below) and this prevents the thieves from getting a positive ID fast enough. 

Time, for Magnum, is running out. The I J who is short, balding in the center of the head, with pencil mustache, and owl glasses says time is almost up. Magnum isn’t sure, but guesses he has grabbed the R-Ls. He knows he has the Fs. He started with 50-50 certainty with the two necklaces. Then with one fake, he is 2/3 sure. Then with 2 fakes, he is 3/4 sure. Enough fakes and it would be a certainty, but too many fakes means too much time checking them out and the switcheroos must be in rapid succession. [For example, (1) Magnum is driving the Ferrari down a busy street with the thieves in pursuit and he tosses a necklace to a person, in disguise, on the sidewalk. (2) Magnum is driving the Ferrari, top down, eastward along a narrow street and meets T.C. in a convertible driving westward on same street, and as they come alongside each other, at speed, they toss the necklace they had to the other car. (3) Magnum, pursued by the thieves, drives into a parking lot and pulls up alongside the cars Rick and T.C. have already parked in the lot. They get out of the cars, each one having a necklace and crouch low and do football-like handoffs of the necklaces except one of them is a fake handoff and that person retains the necklace he had. Then they “reverse field” and do handoffs again and again one of them does a fake handoff. Then one of them jumps into the car he brought and the other two switch cars and peel out of the lot.] 

M makes a guess that he has the R-Ls. He has the Fs. 

Second to last scene – he enters I J’s office (“Can’t you see I am busy?”) and deposits a black velvet bag on I J’s desk and says – The Romorantin-Lanthenays. He also places a brown velvet bag on the desk and says – The Favershams. The I J looks up. Magnum is gone.

Last scene – Rick, T.C., and Magnum are in a restaurant or club (maybe with Rick’s wife and T.C.’s son) and talking about key cases of Magnum PI from 1980 to 1988 and how, by the by, Rick is having trouble affording the better chefs and how T.C. is really straining the family budget to get the “sedate” chopper. Talk is also about 1990s Hawaii.

Then they hear someone shouting “You’re right!” It is I J.

 He gets half way to their table and shouts again – “You’re right!” 

At their table, he whispers to them while looking at Magnum that he is right.

Magnum – They are the Romorantin-Lanthenays?

I J – Yes.

Magnum – The Favershams too?

I J – Yes.

10%?

Yes, says I J resignedly.

Magnum – Finder’s fee?

I J- Yes, said with exasperation and awe. It is over $3 million.

Rick’s jaw drops, as does T.C’s. They swivel their heads to look at Magnum.

The finale is a head shot of Magnum. He looks directly at the camera.

He smiles.
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I should have posted this sooner because now I have an opening and a closing suggestion. No more delays in posting or a script will erupt.

The special starts with a giant sun rising out of the ocean. Magnum’s voice-over says – “I know what you’re thinking and you’re right, this is Paradise.” Then cut to Rick dodging objects.

The special ends, after Magnum smiles, with a shot done very late in the day. All are seen in the near dark, but recognizable, though in reality they may be cardboard cutouts. Everyone is facing away from the camera and toward a very small, very distant sunset in the ocean. Far right the Ferrari is implied or all there, next on the left is Magnum seated in a lawn chair. On his left is Higgins (even if he didn’t appear in the special) in a lawn chair, to his left are two sitting dogs, and to their left is Rick in a lawn chair, to his left is T.C. in a lawn chair, and finally the presence of a chopper to T.C.’s left. Magnum’s voice-over says – “I know what you’re thinking and you’re right, this is Paradise.” 

Go to a screen containing a mosaic of Magnum throughout Magnum PI and then put credits on it. Now Higgins’ mosaic, credits. Then Rick, credits. Then T.C., credits. Then guest stars, credits. Now a screen(s) of different sets or parts of locations where they filmed in Hawaii, then credits on it or them.  END

[Mention is made of the Magnum movie on “Magnum Mania!”, a website maintained first by J.J. Walters and now by Steve Paruszkiewicz. This is not the only place where a desire to see the movie come about is expressed. It is, however, a site where very, very much about what was seen on “Magnum, P. I.” is enjoyably recorded and elaborated on in fascinating detail.]

Sherlock in Cheyenne - The Adventure of the Missing Missile Part

On page 4 of the local newspaper was an account of an Army convoy from Northern Colorado being diverted. It had gone into Nebraska and disappeared. Mr. Holmes did not fail to bring this to my attention. But a convoy, Army trucks, deuce and a halves gone off the reservation? So?

Popcorn was a family tradition on Friday night. We had a gunnysack of it in a hallway closet. We shelled it. Then into a popper with a right angle stirrer through the cover and into the corn. Add lard to the popper, corn in, gas on and stir. We would get the top coming off as the popping went on and on. The top would clang onto the stovetop, so we knew to remove the popper from the heat. Then we would load up the popper again and give it another go. Butter (real butter) and salt until satisfied.

Fully stuffed with popcorn I went downstairs and found no Mr. Holmes. As he had resolved after the activity known informally as The Case of the Missing Milk Bottles, he was probably in disguise and not smoking as he visited far and wide with the citizens of Cheyenne.

He was gone until the AM next day. Then it was front-page news that a convoy of trucks had been proceeding west from Kimball (Nebraska) near the state line when a few other Army trucks uninvitingly joined them near Pine Bluff. The interlopers roared up beside a truck, removed the occupants by means of long grappling hooks and commandeered the truck away from the convoy, heading due north. A Zeegler, or so it must have been from the description, was seen by flashlight in the truck bed before the light was shot out.

Why was this usurpation of a government truck so momentous? It had been in a low profile convoy transporting a missile part. That part of the missile was to be fitted to an ICBM having a nuclear warhead. Until the capture of the missile part, no nukes were known to be in the area.

But note, it was front-page news. The missing convoy had been on page 4. Page 4 was one of "our" pages but now it had gotten promoted out of our territory. Maybe we were to assume a license to pursue front-page news?

Mr. Holmes did not think so. He religiously read pages 3 and 4 over the next few days and sadly concluded that we were to have no involvement in the missing missile part dustup. He had talked to his Air Force contacts and learned the part was involved in the guidance system of the missiles. The Air Force feared They would duplicate the part for placement in all other ICBMs.

I thought so what - make up a new part and install that one.

So then - said Mr. Holmes, They will steal the newer one and fabricate copies.

Can't they stop Them?

Apparently it would be cat and mouse on and on. Our side could never be sure the missiles would go where they should go. A faulty guidance device could convince the missile to explode after the rockets had ignited but without the missile leaving the site. In other words, the faulty guidance would "convince" the missile to detonate at the site after a travel of zero miles. Then, too, the missile could leave the site but be misdirected and impact an incorrect target.

Me - This meddling gives the Soviets the advantage.

Mr. Holmes - Not if their guidance systems have also been tampered with.

Have they?

Mr. Holmes nodded in affirmation.

Me - But this is all, if I may so, highly irregular. (Mr. Holmes almost smirked.) Whatever could They be up to?

It seems They have always had the threat of someone in the nuclear force deciding to end it all if They were on the verge of success from one of Their schemes to rid the world of almost all of us.

Me - That has always been a possibility, hasn't it?

Yes.

So they are removing the nuclear capability worldwide. Then the scenario of a Red Army sweeping across Europe comes alive.

No, They would not allow it.

Who says?

Our authorities.

What cold comfort. The B52s are still operating.

No.

No?

They have had, these last months, a need on an ad hoc basis to return to base for repairs. The nuclear loads were then altered.

Me - This has gotten out of hand! This makes it seem They can now operate without hindrance if they can get a scheme successfully swooshing along.

Mr. Holmes - We would stop them.

True, we have so far.

Sad to relate, I think we go no further.

What do you mean? At last, They have been successful?

No, quite the contrary, we have succeeded.

You mean to say, they have given up?

Mr. Holmes - If we remain, they can achieve nothing.

Granted. We, or at least you, won’t let them get along.

So why must they persist? It would be rather senseless of Them, agreed?

Me – Like nukes are pointless, unless their threat is to the use, accidental or insane.

Correct. But note They are not insane nor are They accidental.

Meaning?

The meaning will become clear in a fortnight. My guess presently is that your suspicion that you might cycle through your school, ad infinitum, is groundless.

We are kaput?

In another manner of speaking, yes.

I took a long look around. It was all familiar, yet it wasn’t mine, not really. Mr. Holmes sat in his chair, arms on the armrests, pipe in mouth, looking very much like when I first saw him. The newspaper was unceremoniously dumped on the concrete floor.

Done? No more fun? Why end it? Why start it? Why continue it? This wasn’t our world. Mine was elsewhere. Mr. Holmes would go to ….

So, Mr. Holmes, you think I am to return?

I do suppose so.

You?

I have no idea.

I irrationally kept trying to fit Mr. Holmes into this world, why couldn’t he be allowed to persist? I wanted to make it known that he could be allowed to persist. Though truly I didn’t want to go. I had suddenly come on the scene. I suppose I would suddenly go away from the scene. Start and stop. No more tutor, Black Leg, cig stamps and green gas, Stephanie and John and a twenty-dollar bill and bad lettuce and snowflakes that bacteria loved. Mostly, no more “smoke it outside” and helping with chemical analysis, and receiving homework assessment by phone, and helping to gun down Zeeglers galore. He wouldn’t be with me on cold, windy nights. Whatever he was, he was a Mr. Holmes to me. My Mr. Holmes. I don’t suppose I could go with him? No escape. Certainly not. We didn’t come together. I had my route, he, his.

I had been musing about all this, then I realized Mr. Holmes was watching me-  again, a lot like when I first saw him here in this basement, this bedroom.

My dear boy, we have saved a world and helped it to be safer than the one you came from. I suppose it is “progress” that Victorian England was dismantled slowly and surely into a world like yours that ignores a stunning peril. A grievous, vicious, horrible world-ending in store for yours, someday. Always 1 + 1 is 2. Insanity plus error makes for an accepted outcome. It must be persistently accepted, the process of addition persists, so the outcome too persists.

I hope not, Mr. Holmes.

Never give up hope but know reality when you see it. History is not memory. Memory is history. Have a weapon, use it. Axiomatic, if you don’t have it, then it can’t be used. If you can’t remember it, then it isn’t. Remembering when it wasn’t, hopefully, won’t help.

Now, Mr. Holmes, you make me all the more reluctant to go. All will go on as it is here. They won’t miss me.

Truly, They will know you are gone.

Yes, incongruously, I am known to Them and no one else.

But for me.

Pardon me, of course, you are the most important of all.

A fortnight passed by. Mr. Holmes said it would be today. We would go. He had said goodbye to Them. How odd of him to do that.

It was 10 AM on a Saturday. Lots of Sun was coming in the East window of the bedroom-basement. I heard a tramping of many feet coming down the stairs. Mr. Holmes did not reach for his revolvers. He did pick up the diary from the card table and put it in one of his jacket pockets. I knew they wouldn’t knock. The door swung open slowly. A phalanx of Zeeglers entered. All of them were smiling. I was standing by the armchair. Mr. Holmes was directly behind me.

The Zeeglers parted in the center and out stepped the only teacher that ever gave me unbiased encouragement. She was one of my junior high teachers, an English teacher. I could never recall her name. She had me read my writing before the class, and it got in the school newspaper. She mentioned what better books were to be had from the Scholastic Book Club. She had me looking up words in the dictionary. She was great. She had steel blue hair, glasses, tall, overweight and shook all over if she laughed. She offered me her hand, I took it. She faded away.

Then one of my Army lieutenants appeared where she had been. Red hair, narrow nose, head back, a lasting smirk coupled with a blank look of authority on his face. Suddenly a fist shot by my right cheek and collided with the lieutenant’s jaw. He fell quickly backward and disappeared.

Mr. Holmes whispered– Was he the one?

Yes.

Then Dr. Hammer came forward. My research guide and savior from economic disaster. Sad, blue watery eyes. His hands always twisting  at the wrists. I intercepted the right hand for a shake. He beamed at me. There were only three signposts for my past. Dr. Hammer disappeared.

Then it all disappeared. I was home. My wife and daughter were down at the end of the hallway going over my daughter’s homework. I was in the living room, but I wasn’t alone. I turned around and looked up at Mr. Holmes.

Mr. Holmes – We have little time. I have been posted to a new venue.

I hope you knock them dead, so to speak.

Mr. Holmes had lost his boots and legs up to his knees.

Give me your hand, my boy. I wish you well. Those were memorable adventures. You are to be commended.

Mr. Holmes, I thank you for the adventures. No one can top you. May you never cease to exist, to be thought of with admiration always.

Thank you, my dear boy.

He had disappeared from the waist up to the shoulder on the left side. He still had his left arm. He still had his right hand in mine. His right shoulder was starting to fade. He quickly removed from his right jacket pocket the diary I had kept.

Yours, he said.

I couldn’t say anything as I took the diary.

I must go. His grip was firm and confident.

I let go of his hand. Only his head remained. He smiled assuredly and knowingly.

I smiled.

He was gone.

Sherlock in Cheyenne - The Adventure of the Haunted Canyon

Mr. Holmes had been gone three days. He had left a note that something had come up and that his presence in western Wyoming was required. I got the note since I had been gone on an overnight school outing at an observatory.

Then the knock on the door meant that he had returned.

May I come in my dear boy?

Why of course, Mr. Holmes.

He entered and said – You look hale and hearty. Are you?

Yes, I’m fine.

I have been to western Wyoming because our newspaper had an article about increases in wind speed in that region. The article said the winds were blowing N, E, and S. Of course this peculiarity alerted me to engage in further investigation. Oddly, too, the article informed me that such winds are part of Indian legend.

At the words “Indian legend”, I recalled an article in today’s newspaper. Earlier today, having only the usual to do and being bored, I picked up the newspaper that was in Mr. Holmes armchair. He said the articles especially of interest to us would be on pages 3 or 4. On page 4 I read an article about a haunted canyon in western Wyoming and that it’s being haunted is according to Indian legend. This I related to Mr. Holmes.

Indeed! A coincidence?  - he said and asked as he removed his outer garments, picked up the paper, and sat down in the armchair. In less than a minute he said – This calls for further investigation. After my visit to the West, I became convinced They are at work again on another dastardly plot of worldwide disturbance. I assumed that all that would be needed would be to contact the Air Force. They could stop this latest of Their plans easily enough. At least I assume so since defacing Their ill-gotten gains would not be to their liking.

I had no idea what he was talking about. Actually it was as if he had been talking to the newspaper. Then he realized that an explanation was in order.

He looked up and said – Sorry, my boy, thinking out loud there for a time. You are owed an explanation – It seems They are attempting to hurry along the wind speed with what the Air Force, in my meeting with them, called accelerators.  The already strong west wind enters an accelerator and comes out much stronger and going N, E, and S. The perpetrators of this accelerator program are attempting to increase the wind speed enormously. With my disguise as a representative of a borax storage depot in western Wyoming, I have convinced the Air Force that they could put borax, or a like substance, in the air before the wind is introduced to the accelerators. The accelerators could be damaged. If not sufficiently damaged, what they accelerate would hit objects and deface and them and break glass, break lesser plastics, and so on. I do not think They want to “inherit” damaged goods. So all was proceeding nicely but now comes another Indian legend and about a haunted canyon.

The Indian legend about the west winds was put forth by Them to gain time for further testing. Presumably an Indian legend is not to be taken seriously nor tampered with. So the change in winds becomes only a minor transitory change. You scoff at it, you don’t accept it. You do not check into it.

But now, another Indian legend. This canyon is also in western Wyoming. You must excuse me, my boy, I must head West again to see if there is a link. I can’t delay. He donned his outerwear and was gone.

Two days passed. Then I got a phone call. A phone call from, of all people, from Mr. Holmes.

Hello, Mr. Holmes?

Yes, my boy, it is me. I am here at a town some distance from the canyon. Indians are about the canyon. There is a village called Owl about fifty miles from the canyon. The only occupants of the village are an Indian tribe. They say they have not heard of any legends in connection with this canyon. They aren’t believers in canyons being haunted. There may be ghosts, they say, of individuals. One of the Indians has a brother living in Cheyenne. He is an authority on Indian legends. Do please try to find him. According to the brother here, the brother there is listed in the phonebook under Black Leg.

OK, one moment, I’ll check. Sure enough, he is listed.

Good, ask him about the haunted canyon legend. I’m short of time here. I must be off. I’ll return directly.

Then he hung up.

Wow. A phone call from Sherlock Holmes, real or otherwise, that made my day. Ok, so I call Black Leg, no answer. I pedal over to his address. The landlady says no one has lived in the dump (her word) for many months.

Mr. Holmes returned next day. Before his coat was off, “Black Leg?”

No go. Phone rings and rings. Not at his apartment.

Mr. Holmes said he doubted there could be any legend existing in connection with the canyon. Most probably They were involved here too. The wind accelerators in further western Wyoming were gone. They may have moved Their efforts to this canyon. The canyon is like a box, open at the east end. The Indians have seen what can only be Zeeglers digging cylindrical holes throughout the floor of the canyon.

Zeeglers again! I thought only you and I could see them during frozen moments and you have since seen one at a warehouse and now the Indians can see them.

Yes, they are being more apparent.

Continued Mr. Holmes -  They place into the holes thick metal rods with many dials on one face. They have been seen reaching into the holes and, I suppose, making adjustments. I could not enter the canyon if the Indians were present. I took leave of them and entered by means of a crevice at the west end; there are many such openings at the west end.  I, too, saw Zeeglers at work as already described. The Indians say the Zeeglers are trespassing on tribal land. Many of the Indian on the site are armed with knives. But I suppose those in the village may have rifles. It seems a common enough occurrence. The Indians are hostile and restless. Some want to evict the Zeeglers in a short time. But other Indians are of the opinion that the Zeeglers’ activities are a desecration of the canyon and, being of a serious nature, require counsel with other tribes, those that are part of a loose confederation, I gather, that sprawls across the Plains and into Canada.

All this consulting, I said, could give Them too much time.

Agreed. We must dismiss this tenuous Indian legend aspect and allow the Air Force to aid the Indians.

Hm, I said, could be the Indians would regard Air Force efforts as interference.

Perhaps, but…

Mr. Holmes was interrupted by a pounding at the door. A pounding, not Stephanie’s knock or a salesman.

Hello? I called.

The pounding came again.

Hello, whose there?

More pounding.

Ok, OK, I’m coming. A bomb? Gunned down at close range? Oh well, I opened the door.

As I did, I first saw moccasins, buckskin. Looking up I saw nothing but buckskin covering an Indian. Very tall, a little gray in the black shoulder-length hair.

Holmes in?

Well, yes. May I ask who is calling?

He pushed past me into the room. I could see Mr. Holmes had a revolver at the ready inside his jacket.

I am Black Leg.

Ah, said Mr. Holmes, I’ve been wanting to talk to you.

About what?

Black Leg wasn’t here for chitchat. He seemed apprehensive. He remained standing by Mr. Holmes chair. Mr. Holmes made as if to get up but Black Leg raised his left arm and pushed his open flat palm in the direction of Mr. Holmes. Mr. Holmes remained seated. I was picking up my chair so that Black Leg could sit, but he “pushed” me too.

I have visited with your brother at Owl. People have been saying that the canyon nearby moans and that it is haunted.

That is what you wanted to ask me?

That is all.

The Indian looked a tad less apprehensive and said – No canyon is haunted. There is no Indian story about it.

He went silently to the door, opened it, and left.

Well, said Mr. Holmes, mildly exasperated, that was certainly a short visit.

Long enough for me.

The next day, wonder of wonders, Mr. Holmes gets a phone call!

Mr. Holmes related -  It was the brother of Black Leg. He said the canyon Indians weren’t going to wait for the far-flung tribal elements to convene. For some reason, they felt knives would do the job. They would advance upon the Zeeglers in two days’ time.

I said – All I can think of is what if they knife a Zeegler and he disappears? Or if he doesn’t? The Zeeglers, we know, have pistols or spears. The outcome could be messy.

Ah, yes, “messy”, as you put it.

I simply have no choice, I must return yet again to the canyon. Black Leg’s brother seemed reluctant to proceed against the Zeeglers. I must mention he said the Indians were anxious to be active because the canyon one night was moaning, then screaming, and then screeching. The Indians could not withstand the noise level.

I wished Mr. Holmes good luck and pressed on with my home tasks. Next day I get a phone call from Mr. Holmes. So many phone calls in so little time. Mom seemed uncomfortable about phone use involving canyons and Indians so I only listened on this call and spoke solely in terms of history studies so that I could convince Mom that Mr. Holmes, the tutor, was stranded outside of town but had called to assess my homework progress.

My boy, I am attempting to convince the Indians at hand to wait it out and give the confederation more say in what needs to be done.

 I said - Wilderness Campaign, 1864.

Eh? I believe if sufficient stir up is achieved that the increasing awareness of what They are about will embarrass Them to such an extent that They will cease what I believe is a scheme to extremely enlarge sound patterns to harm individuals far and wide. This is rather better and letting Them have more time I do not now view as critical.

Grant, Sherman, Longstreet, Lee.

See here, are you with me, boy?

Aren’t those the correct answers for my history lesson that you assigned me now that you are stranded outside of town?

I say, you are indisposed to respond other than by use of history items?

Yes, … I am sure the battles of Vicksburg and Shiloh were near rivers.

I understand. American Civil War. I am staying here for the time being. Your test will be most difficult if you persist in answers like these. I assigned you the most significant battles of the British Empire.

He hung up. A sense of humor for Mr. Holmes? Well, stranger things have happened, I suppose.

The account in the newspaper beat the return of Mr. Holmes. The tribal confederation approach was what was needed after all. The initial unknown-to-others testing and shakeout that they needed had been lost. The newspaper reported explosions were heard in the canyon. Holes dug in the canyon floor had been blasted out. No one saw Zeeglers. Indians, knives at the ready, prowled the canyon without incident. The confederation wanted the canyon closed to any entry but by Indians. The Indians of Owl felt that to be acceptable. Knives were put away.

Mr. Holmes returned from his diplomatic mission.

I felt that the upshot of this latest two-prong debacle of Them was the easy-to-see Zeeglers. We had never seen Zeeglers except during frozen moments. Now, besides Mr. Holmes, ordinary Indians can see them, no frozen moment required. Have we entered a new era of our stay here? Have we become less important? Have they more power to display themselves? No frozen moments have occurred since Mr. Holmes returned from the haunted canyon but did he or did he not notify the proper authorities? The Air Force was involved with the accelerators but not the stall that cause Them to detonate to ruin Their instruments of destruction. The authorities were the confederation. Could the Air Force done any better? Still, the Zeeglers are all too obvious now.

They showed up again when they snatched what became “the missing missile part.”