TEA WITH THE MIDNIGHT MONSTERS

SAM

On Sunday morning, Halloween Day, Caroline was drooling.

She had spent the night in the tearoom, pacing, thinking, napping, pacing, and fallen asleep.

"Mrs. Cumberbatch?" Cruz said, into her ear. She had fallen asleep, sitting up, with her head on a table. "Mrs. Cumberbatch. Phone."

She bolted upright. "Who? Who is it? What?"

"London. It's your friend, Sam," said Cruz.

Caroline rose sleepily, and Cruz led her to the tearoom telephone near the front door. "He says he's got news."

"Thank goodness," she said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, taking the phone from behind the counter. "Darling?"

"'Morning," said Sam, through the receiver. "I've got what you need." It was almost dawn in New York City and ten in the morning in London, England. Sam was sitting in front of his window watching the rain on the River Thames. He was excited and proud of himself. He'd figure out who made the teacup, and who owned it -- overnight.

"You're the best friend," Caroline said, and turned and grabbed a pen and piece of paper. She sank to a stool to take notes. "I know this is odd."

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm not. It's all -- unspeakable. I'm in a trance. Gutted. Lost."

"Ludwig Cornelius von Billings," Sam said.

"Ludwig who?"

"Have you heard of him?"

"No. Never. How do you spell it, please? Spell it for me." Sam spelled the name as Caroline wrote. L-U-D...

"Google him," Sam said. "He was a self-made billionaire. Born 1892. Disappeared in 1950 -- without a trace. Two years before that, in 1948, he commissioned 300 tea sets, sterling silver, and one thousand dinner sets from Tiffany's."

Tiffany & Co., in case you don't know -- and why should you? You really shouldn't -- is a fancy shop that sells among many things, jewelry and china and luxury gifts.

"Tiffany's?" Caroline said. "The teacups, too?"

"The entire hurrah. Plus two thousand monogrammed silverware sets, four thousand cut crystal water glasses, and monogrammed linens by the thousands."

"Goodness. Why? Did he own hotels?"

"He owned almost nothing. He manufactured arms and war ships. He was a war man. One of the founders, I guess, of the military industrial complex... So to speak."

"War ships?"

"Tanks and planes. Look him up. He's very mysterious."

"Four thousand water glasses -- why on earth?"

"He owned one house on Riverside Drive in New York City. Tiffany's sent the order there. And more incredible -- after he paid for it, in full -- signed, sealed, delivered -- the whole lot -- every piece -- disappeared. Fell off the collecting grid. No one's seen a single piece since. Not until now."

Caroline closed her eyes. This was curious, but what did it mean? She opened her eyes and gazed at the name:

LUDWIG CORNELIUS VON BILLINGS

Strange name. Strange man. But no one had anything else to go on. No leads. No clues. Children in New York -- all over the world! -- vanishing under everyone's noses, and law enforcement mystified... What could von Billings have to do with the night terrors? With Millie and Annabelle Zane's bad dreams?

"Sam?" Caroline asked carefully. "Do you... Do you... believe in monsters?"

"Of course," he said. "I watch the news. I don't have to believe. I've seen them with my own eyes."

"No," said Caroline. "Not -- people acting like monsters. Actual ones. Like in stories and myths?"

"What are we talking about here, dear?"

"Nothing," said Caroline rather quickly, putting the idea out of her mind. "We're talking rubbish. Pure nonsense. Thank you so much for all of this."

"You're so welcome. I'm praying for you."

"Pray for the children."

"Always, darling."

"Thank you." With that, Caroline hung up the phone. She was starting to wonder if, indeed, the children had been kidnapped and turned into monsters... Griffins and witches and bats... But how could she tell this to her friend Sam? How could she tell this to anyone at all? Cruz would give her a calming pill and drive her out to Bedford to rest. She'd have to keep the idea to herself.

Until she had some kind of proof...