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The door of Hogan’s Investigations flew open with a rush of cold air and a young boy came to a skidding halt. “Miss Bertie! Miss Bertie!” He was panting and gasping for breath.
“Henry? What on earth…?” She pointed to a chair. “Sit down and catch your breath.”
His head bobbed up and down as he plopped down on the chair. Then he looked up as Harry walked in behind him and quietly closed the door.
“Is that your bike in the driveway?” Harry asked him.
Henry’s face turned red. “Sorry, sir… I was in too much of a hurry… I didn’t… I mean… sorry, sir.”
“This is Henry Lake,” Bertie said. “Henry, this is Mr. Hogan. Now, why don’t you tell us what’s got you all hyped up.”
His head bobbed up and down again and then the words poured out of him: “I found a skull up on the trail… well, it was off on the side, not right on the trail… and it wasn’t plastic… it… it looked real… and…” He paused, gasping for breath.
“Henry!” Bertie handed him a bottle of water. “Slow down and start at the beginning.”
Henry did just that. “Do you think someone was… maybe someone died out there?” His voice was hushed.
“Well, Henry, I suppose it is possible but since it was a skull you found, it would have happened a long time ago. I don’t think there’s anything for you to be concerned about now.”
“Mr. Hogan is right, Henry. What were you doing out on the trail anyway?”
“I always go out there. I’m watching for the ferns to start growing so I’ll know where to get the best fiddleheads.”
“Fiddleheads?”
Bertie laughed. “Technically, they are the unfurled fronds of a young fern and they are delicious when lightly fried in a little butter.”
“Why didn’t you just say edible wild plant?” Harry commented. “Now then, young man, can you show us where you saw this skull?”
“Yes, sir.”
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