Affluent residents. Nothing out of the ordinary for Beacon Hill. I was hoping to find something relating to the ‘selfless’ part of the riddle… like a church.”
I had the riddle written on a note card. “Those whose minds are shaped by selfless thoughts give Joy when they speak or act. Joy follows them like a shadow that never leaves them,” I said.
It was late afternoon and the sun was low in the sky. Joy Street had been sunny when we arrived, and we were now standing in shade.
“We’re in the shadow,” I said. “The sun is going down and Joy Street is in shadow. Could this be the shadow of Joy?”
“It could be, but it still doesn’t get us anywhere. For the most part, the shadow is coming from the State House. And the shadow keeps changing. The sun moves across the sky and the shadow moves with it. The pinnacle of the dome will point to at least a half dozen addresses by the time the sun sets.”
“If the shadow in the second part of the riddle comes from the State House, maybe the first part of the riddle refers to people in public office.
“That’s a stretch,” Diesel said.
I grabbed him by his hand and pulled him after me. “Come on. Let’s look at the State House.”
“What’s with all the enthusiasm to save the world all of a sudden?”
“I’m motivated. People want to kill me. I figure if I find the stupid stone, I can get on with my life.”
“So it’s not about the world… it’s all about you?”
“Yeah. I don’t actually care about the world. And I don’t always recycle, either. Sometimes I throw my yogurt cups in the garbage.”
“Shocking,” Diesel said.
He answered his cell phone and stared down at his shoe while he listened. He gave his head a small shake, as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing. Or maybe it was that he didn’t want to hear what someone was telling him.
“I’m on it,” Diesel said. And he disconnected.
“Well?” I asked him.
“Sandman ran away again.”
We were across the street from the Boston Common, and Diesel looked out at the park.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Diesel said.
“You’re going to look for Sandman?”
“Yeah.”
“What about saving the world?”
“This won’t take long.”
We crossed the street and took the footpath to the Frog Pond. When the weather turns cold, the Frog Pond is flooded for ice skating. When the weather is warm, the Frog Pond is turned into a wading pool. Today was in between seasons and the Frog Pond was closed. We walked past the Frog Pond to the bandstand and found Sandman sitting on the steps, soaking up the day’s last rays of sun.
“Hey, Morty,” Diesel said. “How’s it going?”
“Not bad,” Morty said. “Just living the good life.”
“Everyone would feel better if you were living the good life at your son’s house.”
“My son’s a weenie.”
“We’re going to take a tour of the State House. Why don’t you come with us.”
“Is it a caper?”
“Yeah.”
“What about my baloney sandwich? Will I be back here in time for the food truck?”
“I’ll make sure you get a baloney sandwich.”
“Okay! I’m in.”
We retraced our steps through the park, hiked up Beacon Street, and then we hiked up about a million steps to the front of the State House. We followed signs to the visitors’ entrance to the right of the main gate. The door was locked. No one around. The State House was closed to visitors on Sunday.
“No problem,” Diesel said.
He moved his hand along the door, the locks tumbled, and he opened the door.
“This is the State House,” I said. “You can’t break into the State House!”
“I’m not breaking in,” he said. “The door is unlocked.”
“Oh boy,” Morty said. “This is good. Nothing like a little B &E to get your blood pumping.”
We walked in and looked around. Empty.
“There’s something going on in here somewhere,” Diesel said. “I can hear activity.”
I stood very still. “I don’t hear anything.”
“That’s because I’m the one with the heightened senses, and you’re the one…”
Diesel stopped in mid-sentence.
“And I’m the one who makes cupcakes?”
“Honey, there’s nothing wrong with making cupcakes.”
“You are so not going to see me naked.”
“You haven’t seen her naked yet?” Morty said to Diesel. “What’s with that? How long you two been together? Maybe we need one of those man-to-man talks. I would have nailed her by now. I got a way with women. Once they see I can bend a spoon, they’re all over me. It’s like taking candy from a baby. So, what are we gonna steal this time?”
“We don’t know,” I told him. “We’re scouting.”
We walked to the left, past the bookstore, and stopped at the elevators.
“Going up,” Diesel said, pushing the button.
I stepped back. “No way. This is as far as I’m going. We can come back tomorrow when the building is open.”
“I thought you were motivated.”
“I’m not motivated to go to prison!”
The elevator doors opened, and Diesel pushed me in. “You worry about rules too much.”
“She reminds me of my son,” Morty said. “Uptight fussbudget. I love him, but I’m not gonna lie to myself. He’s got problems. And he’s not even good-looking, like me. I don’t know how he ever found a woman to marry him. I guess it’s what they say… there’s a lid for every pot.”
We stepped out of the elevator at the second floor, and it was clear the noise was coming from the back of the building. We walked through the Hall of Flags toward the Great Hall. The glass doors to the Great Hall were open and the hall was being prepared for a party. Round tables seating eight each were set around the perimeter of the room. They were draped in red linen tablecloths and decorated with candles and flowers. Two bars were manned by bartenders in white shirt, black tie, and black slacks. Two carving stations were being prepared by chefs in silly hats and white chef coats. And two long buffet tables were getting stocked with a mountainous shrimp display, too many steaming chafing dishes to take a count, an artistic arrangement of breads, salads, sauces, pickled vegetables, exotic sliced fruit, smelly cheese, and smoked salmon.
“That’s some spread,” Morty said, “but I don’t see no baloney.”
A guy in a white chef coat came up to us. “You look like you’re lost. You must be from the agency.”
“Yep,” I said. “The agency sent us.”
“Doors are open in fifteen minutes, and I’m short. You can get changed downstairs. You know the drill, right? You’ve done this before?”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “Lots of times.”
He checked Morty out. “He looks kind of old.”
“I’m old as dirt,” Morty said, “but you should see what I can do with a spoon.”
The guy in the chef coat shook his head. “Sky-high unemployment, and this is the best they could send me.” And he hurried away.
“Now what?” I said to Diesel.
“We go downstairs and get changed. If we look like waiters, we won’t stand out, and we’ll have access to the
