Sheriff Byron Neverfine approached the Never Drip Coffee Shop with steps of determination. Yawning he glanced at the image of his rather ample physique reflected by the single, clouded glass panel located in the sagging yellow entrance door. He stopped, expanded his chest, adjusted his tan tie and pulled up his matching trousers.

Frowning at the necessity of loosening his belt another notch he made a silent vow to consume fewer doughnuts each day and add only two spoonfuls of sugar to each of his mugs of coffee.

Entering the diner he straightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyelids. Following his usual custom he scanned the faces of all customers enjoying the usual hunger-reducing breakfast offerings. He glanced at the 1948 calendar hanging on the wall next to the kitchen door. A few dates in October had already been marked off with large X's.

The coffee shop, a weather-beaten landmark located on Adams Street in Marston, Indiana, near the county courthouse, opened Monday thru Saturday at 5 a.m. The eatery closed at night only when the last customer sauntered out the door, usually burping loudly. Immediately the tantalizing odors released by the frying bacon and brewing coffee enveloped the sheriff. He inhaled deeply allowing the tantalizing aromas to further enhance his appetite and expand his commanding physique. He greeted Hortense, the long-time gracious server, with a smile. Quickly she guided him to a back corner booth, his favorite spot for furtive conversations.

A few minutes later Inspector Hershel Sneupenhauger, commonly known by all his acquaintances as Snooper, eased his way through the same door. Spotting the sheriff he moped along with a slouch and joined the county's chief law officer at the rear booth.

Hortense approached the lawmen and set two coffee mugs on the table top with dull thuds. Smiling she filled the cracked and smudged mugs to the brim and said, "Welcome, Sheriff and Snooper. Do you both want the usual fare this morning?"

"Yes, thank you, Hortense," replied the sheriff before Snooper had a chance to respond. "And, bring four of your signature donuts, the large ones with the chocolate icing on top, er-r on second thought make that two doughnuts."

Snooper looked around at the boisterous customers who were chomping loudly, slurping coffee, talking and gesturing emphatically at the same time. Relieved that none of the early morning 'regulars' were looking in his direction he faced the sheriff and inquired, "Why the sudden and urgent request to meet me here at the Never Drip Coffee Shop so early on this Monday morning? We usually enjoy signature morning coffee in your office at the jail."

"Snooper," replied the sheriff with a solemn demeanor as he leaned forward and engaged the inspector with serious eye contact, "I wanted to privately discuss with you an item that will be on our agenda this Wednesday, October 13 ... mark your calendar. ... when we meet with the members of my 'jail cabinet' made up of the usual law-enforcement and support folks."

The sheriff stopped abruptly, pointed and asked, "By the way, how did you get that black eye? Your face looks like my neighbor's dog, a Dalmatian."

"Never mind the eye. ... What development is so important that we need to call for a special cabinet meeting this Wednesday? And why did you ask me to join you here at this coffee shop so early for breakfast this morning?"

The sheriff scooted forward on the wood bench seat. Glancing around to make sure their discussion remained private he looked intently at Snooper and quietly said, "Mrs. Gertrude Everlite crept into my office last Friday morning and sat down before I could greet her by offering a cup of coffee. She sat on the edge of her chair massaging and twisting her worn, patched money bag. She seemed quite upset and nervous."

"You must be referring to the widow who lives next door on the east side of the Ovid Prudely mansion. I remember we thought at one time she had colluded with Ovid to cause the death of Belvadear, her husband."

"Yes, that's the right person. After a few minutes of quiet fidgeting and hand-wringing she opened up and we talked for at least an hour."

"Did she seem to be relieved that the scoundrel, Red Fox, is now dead? Does she remember he utilized the underground chemical laboratory located beneath the Prudely carriage house to produce unusual and possibly illegal products and compounds? After all, that activity occurred next door to her property."

"Yes, on both counts. Indeed she smiled as we discussed the demise of Red Fox. Mrs. Everlite also complimented you, Snooper, for your courageous actions in confronting, subduing and arresting Bruno, his patsy, during our successful raid at the mansion when we arrested Red Fox."

"That undercover action you spearheaded at the Prudely house certainly proved to be a significant event," smiled Snooper, straightening his posture in the booth. "But, what concern motivated Mrs. Everlite to venture out of her house and come to your office without an invitation?"

At that point Hortense appeared with a coffee pot in one hand and their bill in the other hand. "Would you two gentlemen like your coffee mugs refilled?"

"No thank you, Hortense. And, tell Ernesto, the cook, that he fixed the scrambled eggs and grilled the bacon to just the right taste."

Hortense smiled and left their booth to meet other customers. The sheriff burped and wiped his lips vigorously several times with wrinkled tan paper napkins. He cleared his throat, bent his large frame forward, looked directly at the inspector and whispered, "Mrs. Everlite locked her eyes on mine and said she wanted to share what she considered disturbing incidents that happened months ago. She seemed burdened to relate her observations of night-time occurrences in the Prudely mansion that seemed weird to her, almost bizarre and freakish."

"Be more specific, Sheriff," requested Snooper, scooting forward and frowning slightly. "Did these events occur during the same periods as our surveillance of the activities in and about the Prudely property, the case we dubbed, 'Intrigue at 404 Appalling Street'?" "Yes, she vividly remembers those incidents. But the reason she ventured out of her house and came to my office last Friday is her recollection of strange happenings at the Prudely mansion during prior years."

After slurping more coffee the sheriff continued. "Gertrude related that during nighttime hours on several occasions during 1943 and 1944 she observed flickering lights that seemed to originate inside the rectangular windows located at the top of the tower."

"Are you referring to the silo-like formation that is part of the Prudely house on the northeast corner?" asked Snooper, forking another long slice of grilled bacon into his wide-open mouth.

"Yes, several of the Prudely's neighbors have offered comments about that part of the structure. Local builders and architects have said that type of design seemed to be a rather common feature for Victorian-style homes built during the late 1800's and early 1900's" "Did she see these flashing lights often?"

"Yes, Gertrude said the lights began to appear after the remodeling of the mansion and often during the war years, especially during 1944."

"Why did Mrs. Everlite come to your office and report these sightings now, in October, 1948, three years after the end of the Second World War? Did the news of the death of Red Fox encourage her to discuss the intermittent lights with you?"

"I asked her the same questions. She replied that the focal point of her attention and efforts during those earlier stressful months focused on her son, Dexter. She reminded me that her next-door neighbor, Ovid Prudely, as an experiment had applied a chemical substance to Dexter's face giving his skin a greenish-yellow hue. Later, in the same laboratory under the Prudely carriage house, Red Fox devised a chemical substance that restored Dexter's face to the normal color. During those intervening, nerve-wracking weeks she dismissed the sightings of lights flashing from the mansion tower as less important than her son's anguish about his skin condition."

Reaching for and lifting his coffee cup the sheriff burped, sipped and swallowed loudly. He leaned forward and looked firmly at Snooper. "Recently, she recalled the series of flickering lights and thought they might be important. She decided to come to my office to report her sightings."

Snooper remained silent with a thoughtful countenance, staring at his coffee mug.

The sheriff continued, "She seemed rather embarrassed to relate to me her observations that occurred so many months ago," added the sheriff.

"Toward the end of the conference she became quiet, gazing at the wall in my office. After a few seconds of thought she expressed doubts as to whether the lights represented anything important. She said her conscience is now clear since she related the events to me."

Pointing his finger at Snooper he stated, "Now, Inspector, as law enforcement officers we need to decide if personnel available at this sheriff's office should probe further into this phenomenon of flashing lights during past years or drop the matter as now unimportant."

"What do you think?" asked Snooper. "Should we initiate an investigation based on this new information, Sheriff?"

"I will present the gist of my conversation with Mrs. Everlite at our cabinet meeting this Wednesday afternoon in the jail conference room. I will invite detectives Sam and Howie to join us and Captain Firmly, representing the Indiana State Police. Also, Spade Digger, our mortician, should meet with us since he thinks he is part of our group."

"That sounds like the professional approach. We'll let the cabinet members decide the next steps to take. I would predict they will suggest we forget about your recent conversation with Mrs. Everlite. The information she presented is past history. We need to focus on recent crimes disturbing the residents in Marston."

"You are probably right, Inspector. We need to utilize our time and efforts responding to the current concerns of our citizens. Therefore, since detectives Sam Hames and Howie Newbald are not officially members of the sheriff's office personnel, I may ask them to pursue this matter and report back to the cabinet at a later date."

"That's a good idea, Sheriff. They know all about the Prudely property and the recent 'shenanigans' that occurred at that location. Howie and Sam assisted our department personnel in the capture of Red Fox and his two 'patsies', Bruno and Udo. .... Yes, the two detectives are the logical persons to continue this investigation if the cabinet members so decide." The inspector relaxed, grateful the burden of investigating the blinking lights would not be his responsibility.

The two lawmen scooted out from their seats at the booth. As they walked toward the hostess counter to pay their bill, the sheriff stopped, pointed at Snooper's left eye and inquired, "Snoop, that black eye makes the entire side of your face look terrible. Did you run into the bathroom door?"

The inspector remained mute until they emerged from the eatery. Hesitating he leaned forward and looked carefully at his reflection in the front window of the diner. Turning quickly he moved forward at a faster pace.

After a few more steps he replied softly, "Sheriff, a few weeks ago I enrolled in a self-defense class. Mr. Pudgmor, the instructor, teaches us a technique he labels 'aggressive jousting'."

"Really? Tell me more, Snoop. Since your class members are not knights riding horses, how do you joust?"

"He begins each class day by demonstrating the craft of defensive fighting using agile foot work and forceful sparring, sort of like what I call 'cock-fighting'."

"Snooper, where did you learn anything about 'cock fighting'?"

"Err, no place. I never witnessed any cock-fighting. My former neighbors told me about the 'sport' held weekly out in the country in an old barn."

"What does all this talk have to do with your black eye?"

"After Pudgmor's forceful demonstration we put on the boxing gloves. He pairs up the students and we practice jousts. Yesterday my opponent caught me off guard and popped me real good on the left side of my face."

"That's wonderful, Snooper. You definitely need to enhance your skills in the area of self-defense. Describe the makeup of your group. How old is your student-opponent at the jousting class?"

"The class includes male and female students of all ages."

"You evaded my question. How old is the student who 'popped you' in the eye?"

"She is one of the younger participants."

"Snoop, how old is your jousting partner?"

"Errrr, I would judge my sparring partner is about ten years old. She is quite mature and agile for her age. Dancing around and bobbing up and down she does not present a good target for my well-aimed jousts."

"So is she quite aggressive?" inquired the sheriff, smiling widely.

"During our session yesterday she sidestepped, feigned a left jab and with a fast right hook she 'knuckled' me smack-dab on my left eye. She, of course, apologized as she helped me up from the mat."

The sheriff, smiling widely, walked briskly in the bright sunshine toward the jail. The Inspector, dour-faced, slouched along a few steps behind holding his hand over his left eye hoping not to meet anyone. Quickly the assumed importance of Mrs. Everlite's recent conversation with the sheriff regarding the flickering lights evaporated into the pleasant October air.

Gerhard, bleary-eyed and yawning widely squinted at Horst, his working companion on the night shift at The Millsaap Flour Mill. He reached over and thumped Horst soundly on the chest. The shorter German national lying prone, his head resting upon a sack of flour, wriggled and jerked awake. He bolted upright and crouched forward with clenched fists.

"Calm down, Horst. Sit back down on that sack of flour and listen to me," blared Gerhard emphatically as he leaned forward. "I've been sitting here awake during the two 30-minute breaks from our work at the mill thinking for both of us. We must find a way to get out of this foreign town and return to our beloved homeland and soon."

"I agree, Gerhard," sighed his co-worker with resignation and fatigue in his voice "We've been working undercover for months toting bags of flour from the mill to the storage shed, then later to the buyers' trucks. My hair is white and I breathe this awful white flour dust twelve hours every night."

"And," added Horst, "since I read in that local newspaper I salvaged from the garbage bin about the unfortunate death of Colonel Helmut Schmidt, our patron and boss, we are now in a hopeless and dead-end employment without a sponsor and confidant."

"Yeah, as long as the colonel, Red Fox to us, remained active here in Marston he gave us our orders and insisted we remain in this back-breaking job. We did all of the colonel's unpleasant chores."

"However, Gerhard, our employment here at the Millsaap Flour Mill has served as a welcome cover for our real purpose in this town, the sabotage of local industry."

"Well, Red Fox stupidly fell in his jail cell at the county lock-up when that dopey Inspector Snooper served him a meal of goulash. Snooper slipped on the floor and the Hungarian goulash splashed into Red Fox's face and mouth. He choked, collapsed on the concrete floor and cracked his head wide open. At least that's the story reported in The Marston Tribune, the local newspaper. He can no longer offer us financial help, Horst. We will survive now by our own efforts and gut-instinct."

"You are absolutely right. Red Fox as our patron told us what to do here in Marston to help the Fuhrer's cause. But we have brains too, Gerhard. We can survive and perhaps profit without the Colonel's constant guidance."

"What do you mean profit, Horst? We earn only a few American dollars per week at this mill moving sacks of flour from one place to another plus keeping this building respectable."

"Wait a minute, Gerhard. I just remembered something. A light bulb has just been turned on again in my brain. I know a way we can escape from this town and return to Germany. I'll share my thoughts with you later."

"No one here at the Millsaap Flour Mill has ever suspected we worked with Red Fox and helped him with his espionage duties, especially when he tried to blow up the Jumper Parachute Factory out at the west end of town a few years ago."

"Yeah, I'll have to admit Red Fox learned well his devious skills at espionage. He proved to be an expert undercover agent. His plan to destroy the local parachute factory almost succeeded, with our help of course."

"As I recall, Horst, those two pesky detectives, Sam and Howie, I don't know their last names, discovered our plotting and our plan failed at the last moment."

"For a long time I thought they served as deputies working for the blustery Sheriff Neverfine," added Gerhard. "I didn't know the detectives had their own agency located across the street from the jailhouse."

"Rehashing old news, Gerhard, certainly isn't going to help us to vacate this mill, leave Marston and get back to Germany."