"Well, I'm going to find out."

"I'll sign," Dwight Truman squeaked. He rushed past me. "I'm the chamber president. It must be a gift to the town from one of our wonderful alumni."

He scrawled his name on the form. The deliverymen backed away from the box. Everyone gazed worriedly at the strange, anonymous gift. "Lucky us," Michael Conners called from behind the bar, "but would it not be best to hunt for a greeting card before we open the monster?"

"Good point," Amos muttered. He, Mutt, and Sandy did a thorough search of the exterior. "No card stuck anywhere," Amos announced.

"Tear off the paper," I told him.

He nodded. Sandy leapt ahead of him. "Stand back, Chief, I'm good with paper." She clawed the box like a small blonde cat. The huge bow and colorful Christmas wrappings fell away, revealing only a rough wooden crate.

Del stepped forward. "Let's look for a latch." He and Amos felt along all the seams, to no avail. "Go over to the station and get a pry bar," Amos told Mutt.

"Hold on, no need for that." Dan McNeil, our town fix-it man extraordinaire, marched over with an unlit cigar b.u.t.t clenched between his teeth and his rented tux open to show a World Wrestling Federation belt buckle. "I'll open that baby," he growled.

He plucked an all-in-one screwdriver gadget from his pants pocket then began probing along one edge of the giant box.

"Right here. I found it. Come on, Mama. Open up for Daddy."

"Wait a minute," Amos ordered. "I want everyone to back up. Everybody, back. I'm going to call for a bomb dog."

"Too late, Chief." Dan popped the door open. Suddenly we were face-to-face with the box's contents. Around me, people gasped. After a stunned moment, I put a hand to my throat. I couldn't believe what I saw.

The Ten-Cent Gypsy.

Dwight backed away from the box unsteadily, his eyes shifting, looking for escape. All the blood drained from his face. "You can't blame this on me," he said in a high voice. "I didn't know what her card meant."

Ham Bigelow whipped a cell phone from his tuxedo pocket, punched a speed-dial number, and hurried off to a corner for a private conversation. Similar frantic conferences were going on among all the other longtime Mossy Creekites. Hank Blackshear took Casey by the shoulders. "I promise you, I can explain," he said in response to her bewildered scrutiny. "And I want you to remember this, no matter what happens: None of the rabbits were hurt."

Rainey dropped her guitar. "I only mixed the perm, I didn't put it on her," she said, and fled the room.

Jess Crane turned to Sue Ora. "I want to do a story about the elephant."

She nodded. "There's a Pulitzer in this. And maybe a screenplay."

"Ida, what the h.e.l.l's going on?" Del asked.

I leveled a somber gaze at him. "All I can say right now is that this has something to do with the fire at Mossy Creek High School."

Amos, still staring into the box with the expression of a soldier facing a war, turned to speak to Sandy. He opened his mouth but she cut him off.

"I'm on it, Chief. Come on, Mutt." She and her brother ran into the inn's foyer, grabbed their coats, and left the building.

Amos and I traded a stricken look.

"Look at this way," I said. "Your father couldn't stop what happened then, but now you have a chance to make things right." I paused. "Or at least you may find the elephant's bones and the plastic Easter duck."

Amos.m.u.ttered, "ThankyouGladtobehere."

"I hope to shout."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Ham Bigelow slink out a side door.

And so, the old mystery began to trickle into our lives again like the cold, muddy water of Mossy Creek after a storm stirs up the silt. We Creekites are patient, stubborn people, not going anywhere and not wanting to, so we know this much about our creek and our lives: After the mud settles, someone gets dirty, but someone else comes clean.

It was going to be another interesting new year in the old town.

The Mossy Creek Gazette 215 Main Street * Mossy Creek, Georgia From the desk of Katie Bell, Business Manager Vick, We're all speechless over the New Year's Eve incident. I can't even bring myself to describe what was in that gift box. It's at the center of a long story. An elephant was involved. And fireworks. And the last, fateful, high school football game between Mossy Creek and Bigelow.

Judging by what happened at the party after everyone saw the box's contents, we're in for one wild time! I can say this much: Somebody knows who burned down Mossy Creek High School twenty years ago. With the town's big reunion plans in the works, I think more than the usual suspects may be on hand. I'll write again as soon as I figure out how to protect the innocent and point fingers at the guilty.

Or when I know some really good gossip.

Take care, Vick. Now, I'm off to find out about the Ten-Cent Gypsy...

Up the creek and looking forward to it, Katie.

The Voices of Mossy Creek.

Ida Hamilton Walker........Deborah Smith.

Sandy Bottoms Crane.........Donna Ball.

Chief Amos Royden..........Debra Dixon.

Casey Blackshear............Sandra Chastain.

Jayne Austin Reynolds......Deborah Smith.

Sue Ora Salter...............Sandra Chastain.

"Father" Mike O'Conners....Virginia Ellis.

Ed Brady........................Sandra Chastain.

Maggie Hart....................Nancy Knight.

What's In The Box?

What in the world has gotten the residents of Mossy Creek so stirred up? And what is the twenty-year-old mystery of the fire at Mossy Creek High? What is Ham Bigelow up to?

Join us in Reunion at Mossy Creek when all your favorite characters gather again (as well as some you've never met) and all your questions will be answered.

In the meantime, keep up with the goings on in Mossy Creek by visiting our web site at www.BelleBooks.com.

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