"I'd forgotten about them, and she's right. The Directors probably wouldn't know about that. These groups have nothing to do with actual performance bookings."
"I'll check with the director after she gets back and see what she knows. Thanks for your help."
"Always happy to help. Enjoy the rest of your evening."
"Got a new book waiting for me," Harry said, ending the call.
Half an hour later, he was still staring at the first page, thinking about Max's 'aliens.' Harry didn't doubt that Max had seen something, most likely human, but he didn't have an explanation for their attire. Was it some sort of costumes, designed to look like space suits? Or did it just look that way to Max?
How many more around town, besides Max and Bingo, actually believed there were aliens on earth? Were there enough believers to form a club? Or an informal group who got together to discuss things they'd recently read or seen on television? He frowned. Could a group like that exist without Max and Bingo knowing about it? And who else would know about such a thing?
With the hint of a smile, he picked up his brandy glass, took a sip, and turned his attention back to his book. Whatever it was could wait until morning, but he had an idea where to go next.
********************
When Bertie arrived the next morning, Harry was getting into the truck. "Got an early appointment," he said. "Shouldn't take long. Tell you about it when I get back."
"Good morning to you too," she said, grinning as she continued towards the office.
"Door's unlocked," he said, as he opened the truck door. She held up her hand to indicate she had heard him. She was shaking her head and he knew she was laughing.
A short time later, Harry knocked on the door of a rather rustic looking cabin, next to Crocker's Funeral Home, just as Joe had told him an hour ago. During his years on the police force, Joe had been his most reliable source of information. But Joe hadn't been sure if the former teacher was still alive.
The door opened, and a wrinkled face, surrounded by thin, shoulder-length white hair looked at him. "Detective Hogan?"
Harry laughed. "Not these days, sir. I retired several years ago."
"What can I do for you?"
"Are you the Mr. West who's considered to be an expert on UFO's?"
He smiled and nodded. "Come inside. Cold air aggravates my arthritis." He stepped back to let Harry enter and then closed the door. "Sit down."
Harry pulled out a chair and sat at the table. West sat opposite him. "Would you like tea or coffee?"
"Thank you, but I'm good. This won't take long."
West nodded. "Okay. What's on your mind?"
"Is it true that you keep up with all the reports of UFO sightings?"
West nodded. "I've kept track of unexplained space events for years."
"I know some people believe in them. Are there many believers around here?"
"Some, but not a large number. Are you a believer?"
