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heard a strange voice say. I woke up. I sat up to discover that the TV was still on. A glance at the clock on the bedside table showed exactly one in the morning. The movie was about Francis the Talking Mule. He was adamant about preferring carrots. He was refusing to help the Army soldier, played by Donald O’Connor, with his romance problems until he had a bushel of carrots.
    I couldn’t help but urge the mule on, “You hang in there Francis. Helping the love-struck soldier is worth a bushel of carrots.” I switched off the TV and fell back into bed.
    “I like carrots.”
    Did I not hit the off button? I peeked out from the covers. The TV was off. The room was dark save for some moonlight streaming in the window.
    “Carrots were my favorite treats.”
    I shot up in bed. That was no mule voice from an old movie. I clicked on the bedside lamp. It was just enough light to illuminate a familiar looking horse standing near the foot of my bed.
    “Rory, what are you doing here?” I whispered loudly.
    “I like old movies.”
    “Shhh, keep your voice down.”
    “Only you can hear me.”
    “Maybe so, but I wouldn’t want people to think I carry on conversations with myself, or some imaginary creature.”
    Rory turned his head looking around. “You’re in a house by yourself. Who’s to hear us?”
    Rory’s statement gave me pause. It wasn’t just horse sense; Rory’s thinking was logical. “Okay, that makes good sense. But it doesn’t answer my question. Rory, what are you doing here?”
    “Josephine,” He replied as if I knew what that meant.
    “Josephine? Josephine who?”
    “Not who. It’s a clue.”
    “Oh?”
    “Black Venus. Black Pearl. Creole Goddess. Clues,” Rory said in a string of cryptic phrases.
    Odd thing is, something about those phrases struck a chord of memory. I pondered and Rory whinnied. He was getting impatient.
    “Rory, by Josephine, do you mean Josephine Baker?”
    He nodded his head up and down twice, his signal for yes.
    “Black Venus. Ebony Belle,” Rory said.
    “Do you mean that Marla Devereux and Josephine Baker knew each other?”
    Again he nodded yes.
    “Is it because they were both entertainers?” I asked.
    “Yes.”
    And before I could ask another question, Rory switched his topic.
    “I like carrots,” he said.
    What happened next was a surprise. I looked up at Rory and was about to question him further on the topic of carrots, when, right before my eyes, he evaporated into the moonlight. He was gone. I was left alone in a moonlit bedroom, wondering what to do next. I decided to sleep on it. Snuggling down in my bed, I pulled up the covers, way over my head and went back to sleep.
    The next thing I knew I was reaching for my cell phone on the bedside table.
     
    Chapter 9
    “Wake up Shannon. You’re late for our breakfast date.”
    “Josh?”
    “Yes, who else were you planning on meeting for breakfast this morning?” He sounded a little annoyed. Good, I thought, let him taste the bitterness of annoyance.
    “Listen, I overslept, that’s all. The ringing of my cell phone is what woke me up. I forgot to set my alarm. I was up late, really late, and I may have some clues.”
    I heard him exhale, he was calming down. “Okay, I’m sorry. How about you get dressed and I’ll bring breakfast to you? Deal?”
    “I love it. Thanks Josh.”
    Rushing around my bedroom, I slipped into a pair of jeans and a favorite old T-shirt. And then dashed into the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, pinched my cheeks into a blush and hastily pulled my hair back into a ponytail. A glance in the vanity mirror told me I looked like a coed who had stayed up too late and was late for her first class. I slathered my toothbrush with minty paste and made a quick attempt to rinse. That was when the doorbell rang. I opened the door and there stood Josh.
    “Good morning, sleepyhead, even without cosmetics you’re pretty.” Josh handed me a bakery bag and I opened it up.
    “Mmm. Fresh