Subj: Soap Pt.11
Date: 11/21/99 4:59:52 PM Central Standard Time
From: marcos1

Collinsport has been my home, as long as, I can remember. My parents moved there from Atlanta Georgia in sixty two. David Collins was one of my best friends growing up. We played in the great house. Ran throughout secret passages, explored old rooms. Strange occurrences were nothing to me. I'd seen werewolves, talked with Victorian ghosts, watched covens of witches and warlocks dance naked in the woods. Sat with a gypsy queen, while she prepared special potions from roots and herbs. Matter of fact, that's what gave the idea for this shop. Vitamins and herbs prepared while you watch. That was my motto. But I have to admit, I was more than a little surprised by a visit from the soap girl. Miranda Collins was a pretty little thing. Blond hair the color of winter wheat, eyes, the color of the clear morning sky in Maine. Yes, she was a lovely young girl. But she was strange and peculiar even for these parts.

"Can I help you?" I asked, looking over the counter at the girl.

The young girl glanced wide-eyed at all the bottles of vitamins, herbs and potions. There seemed to be a cure for everything here, baldness, impotence, near sighted or far sighted vision, pretty much everything. "I need something for a father that has turned into a vampire...and something to raise the dead," she asked in a quiet, polite way.

"Barnabas has turned again! Oh, my...that is really terrible. Miss Julia and Victoria must really be upset."

"They aren't very happy about it," Miranda replied. "Do you have anything that might help?"

"I don't know," I replied shaking my head. "Darling, most of this stuff in here is for normal people to get better. Grow more hair...get over a cold faster, there just isn't much here to deal with the supernatural."

"What about dead folks?"

"Oh, you must be talking about that dead talk show host. I read about that in the newspaper. Your brother Adam is suspected..."

"My brother wouldn't hurt anyone!" Miranda insisted, moving her feet on the old hard wood floor. "He's very gentle and smart."

"I know. I know that he wouldn't," I said, moving from behind the counter. "I used to go stargazing with him and David. Adam is very gentle." I paused for a moment. "He is kinda big though."

"Big doesn't make him a killer," Miranda said. "It's those terrible Grundy's...jealous trailer trash. They are lying."

"Maybe it was just an accident," I suggested. In my mind, a memory flashed through, a delivery of vitamin B-12, and Selma Grundy coming to the door of her trailer dressed only in a towel. Man, that was exciting! Especially with that full length mirror right behind her, which she had forgotten about.

"WELL, CAN YOU HELP ME?" Miranda shouted into my ear. She must've noticed my attention was wandering.

I shook my head. "No, darling...can't help...sorry...but maybe...just maybe."

"What?"

"My partner might be able to help," I said, pointing up the staircase to a solitary solid oak door. That was the office of my silent partner. I only saw her once or twice a year, usually on holidays like Halloween, or during tax season. She was very good with numbers. We scarcely ever had to pay any income tax. Other than those times, she was one big mystery. What did she eat? Where did she go? Did she ever leave that old room? It just didn't seem like she did. And how old was she? She was an old woman when I first met her. I was wearing short pants and running through the woods with Davy, and she was sitting around a campfire talking with Quentin Collins. I'll never forget that day....

"WELL, GO ASK HER," Miranda shouted impatiently.

"Okay, I will," I swallowed hard. She wasn't going to like this. But I guess this is what a person would call important and all. I walked up the short staircase, each stair seemed to take several minutes to cross. I was nervous. After all, it isn't everyday, I knock on the door of the gypsy queen Magda Rakosi. And it isn't even tax season.

To be continued--