SEBASTIAN showed the letter to David. It read,"S.I.S."
"That's it?"
Sebastian nodded.
"Who's it from? Wait, don't tell me -- Eric, of course."
The two boys were walking down Chestnut Street, toward the house where Eric used to live.
"But what's it mean?" David asked, when Sebastian remained silent. "Hey, look. Someone's moved in."
"I know. I met them yesterday when you were at the game. There's a kid our age."
David regarded Eric's old house with new interest. "What's he like?" he asked.
"You'll see."
A slim woman with short, gray hair stood on the front porch of the house calling, "Buster! Buster!"
"Buster!" David snorted. "What kind of name is that? Gee, Sebastian, that's not the kid, is it? Buster?"
"Don't worry," said Sebastian, as a child ran past them and into the yard, "you won't become the laughingstock of Pembroke because you've got a friend named Buster. That's the kid's little brother. That's the kid."
Sebastian pointed toward the garage next to the house. Someone in shorts and a halter top was hosing dawn a garbage pail.
"A girl?" David said incredulously. The new kid waved and ran toward them. "You didn't tell me... oh, great. Just what we need, a girl." He made a fist and said, "Curse you, Eric Mather."
"Hi,' said the girl, as her sneakers brought her to a squeaky halt. She had a thicket of red hair and a face busy with freckles. When she smiled at Sebastian, her braces sparkled.
"Hi," said Sebastian. "This is my friend, David Lepinsky."
David mumbled something.
"And this is Corrie...."
"Wingate," said Corrie. "Hi, David. What are you guys up to?"
"Well, actually," said Sebastian, "we've got a mystery on our hands. Or sort of a mystery, anyway." Sebastian gave Corrie Eric's letter.
"What are you doing?" David hissed.
"Relax. She's okay."
"What's it mean?" Corrie asked, handing the letter back to Sebastian.
"I'm not sure, but I have a hunch."
"Sebastian always has a hunch," David said.
"I think it has something to do with the way Eric was acting before he left."
"Eric? Oh yeah, the kid who used to live here." Corrie picked at a mosquito bite on her leg. "How was he acting?"
"Weird," said Sebastian.
David nodded. "Definitely weird," he said.
Sebastian went on, "Eric was always...well, adventurous, I guess you could say. He liked..."
"Getting into trouble," David said.
"Something like that. He liked having a good time, goofing around, nosing into other people's business. You know?"
"I think so. But what's weird about that?"
"Nothing. It's just that he changed a few weeks before he moved. All of a sudden, he got kind of quiet and kept to himself. When we asked him what was going on, he didn't want to talk about it. Said he couldn't talk about it. And then, about three days before he moved, he fell down a flight of stairs and broke his leg."
"Wow," said Corrie, as her picking drew blood. "How come?"
"How come what?" asked David.
"How come he fell down the stairs?"
"We don't know," Sebastian said. "He wouldn't tell us. But he hinted that he'd been pushed."
"Wow," Corrie said again.
"And now this," said Sebastian, holding up Eric's letter. "S.I.S."
"Are they somebody's initials?"
"Seems like it," Sebastian said.
"But we don't know anybody with those initials," said David.
"Well, I can think of one person." Sebastian paused and then said, "Susan Iris Siddons."
David looked at him as if he'd gone nuts.
"And you think maybe it was Susan Siddons who pushed Eric down the stairs?" asked Corrie.
"I have a hunch that's what Eric's trying to tell us," Sebastian said. "There's just one little problem."
"Definitely," said David.
"What?" Corrie asked.
Sebastian looked past Corrie's house to the cemetery in its shadow. "Susan Siddons died in 1902," he said.