At around two o'clock the phone rang. Now dressed in a nice shirt and bow-tie, our own Tom Lauren crumpled on the couch. A wave of exhaustion had overtaken his whole body, and the phone was right in the entryway, only a minute from the couch. Tom, not wanting to miss a call grabbed a walking stick from beside the couch and leaned against it, shuffling to the phone.
"Hello?" Said Tom lackadaisically.
"Hey, brother!" Came the reply from the other side of the line.
"Oh, George." And that was all Tom could say before he slumped next to the little table on which stood the phone. All this nonsense had taken a toll on him, and as he replayed last nights events in his head, he just grew more exhausted.
"You sound terrible. Why don't you come have drink with me and a few of my buddies, eh? I'll come and pick you up so you don't have to drive."
"Alright."
"See you around two thirty. Get some rest, cause I'll be picking the best pub in town." Tom nodded wearily, and hung up.
While Tom slept in the entryway, Eli and Colin were still galloping after Vi. They ducked under overhanging tree limbs and weaved through bushes, all the while straining their eyes and hanging on bareback to their horses. Vi's horse was traveling at an incredible speed. The Thoroughbred stretched out its legs farther, almost reaching out to something. Eli's pony was the slowest, of course, and had a gallop the speed of Colin's canter. However, Eli had spent his entire life around these animals, and was skilled at whatever job he needed them to preform.
"She's stopped! Ahead Eli!" And indeed Violet had stopped, her horse was in a complete lather and sweating, and looked as if it could collapse at any minute.
"Mrs. Smith!" Called Eli.
"Aunt Vi!" Shouted Colin, and the two slowed their horses to a trot, and halted next to her.
"Oh, you silly boys!" She said, laughing almost hysterically, but almost forced. "Why would you follow me, haha, I was just out for a ride."
"A ride? Your horse is exhausted, how far have you galloped anyways? We need to bring this girl, and you, aunt, back home. I am sure Tom is worried sick."
"Oh Tom," and at this Violet laughed again. "He won't be worrying about me, but if you insist." And willingly, all at a walk, the three traveled home. Eli and Colin both looked at each other, deep inside knowing that something was not right at all.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch went the tires on the gravel. An old Ford™ drove into the driveway and screeched to a halt by an old beech tree. Knocking on the door, George Lauren waited for a response from his brother. He must have been standing their for at least five minutes before he decided to try the door. It was unlocked. As quietly as possible he peered inside, and saw before him a sleeping Tom.
"Tom, it is I." Bursting from his reverie, Tom jumped up, grabbing the phone to apparently defend himself if need be.
"Who's there!" Said Tom, slowly tip-toeing towards the door.
"It is George. I've been waiting for a few minutes, and no wonder! You were asleep. Have no fear though, I'll wake you up soon enough." That was enough encouragement for Tom. He followed his brother out the door and into the old Ford™. There were two other men inside, one was rather tall and thin, and introduced himself as Geoff. The other was almost childishly short, and introduced himself as Olaf. Olaf seemed to have a strange lump in his pocket, almost the shape of an apple, and it appeared to be very heavy on the fabric. Tom was thankful he was seated next to Geoff, because he felt something very strange from Olaf, almost as if he was watching him the entire time they drove.
When they finally arrived at the small, brick building that was the pub, George announced, "Well here we are gentlemen! The Dancing Boat, a very acclaimed brewery in New York. And thankfully at this hour all those kids won't be here." Tom fell backward off the sidewalk and then regained his balance.
"The Dancing Goat! GOAT? It says boat for crying out loud George! And why don't you call them children! After all they aren't the offspring of goats are they?" While Tom was ranting on about goats and kids, Olaf was taking a notebook out of his pocket and flipped it open to a clear page. With his ballpoint pen he scribbled something, and then slipped it inconspicuously into the pocket that did not contain the large object.
"Tom, brother, it must be this murder doing it to you. But you've hired a detective haven't you? He'll solve this and you won't have to worry about goats any longer. Come on fellas. Lets get a drink." And with that, all four men entered the pub.
