The Black Heart Crypt

Thanks to Norman, Crazy Izzy was able to stash the black heart stone where nobody could ever find it.

Turned out the puzzle-cracking hardware-store clerk also knew how to pick the one lock in the one door that blocked his entrance to the hiding spot Barnabas had selected for the stone. When that job was done and Izzy came out of the building, he saw a black bird sitting on top of a parking meter.

All of a sudden, Barnabas started croaking at him inside his noggin.

“Go to Stansbury Stables. There you will find a black stallion by the name of Ebony. Steal him. Bring him to the crypt.”

“What about killing the Jennings kid?” Crazy Izzy thought back, even though his brain was wracked with pain, what with Norman and Barnabas both yakking it up inside his skull.

“That task can wait.”

“For what?” he shouted out loud.

“Never mind. Bring me the horse!”

“All right, already! I’ll do it!”

The throbbing headache ended.

“Norman?” said a new voice. A real one. “Are you okay?” It was a goon in a cop uniform.

“That’s Michael Wasicko,” Norman’s voice piped up inside Izzy’s head. “He was in my chess club in high school.”

“Don’t worry, Mike,” said Izzy out loud. “I’m fine.”

“You were talking to yourself.”

“Yeah. Guess I drank too much giggle juice.”

“You still watching all those old movies like you used to?” said the cop. “Because you sure sound like one.”

“Yeah. Sure. You still play chess?”

“Yep, but not as good as you. You sure you’re okay? You look a little wobbly on your feet. Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

“Yeah, Mike. That’d be swell. I need to head over to Stansbury Stables.”

“That horse ranch east of town?”

“Right. Whattaya say we take a powder, head over that way?”

The cop checked his watch.

“Sure, Norm. I get an hour for lunch. I’ll drive you over.”

“Swell.”

“You want me to wait? Give you a lift back to town? Like I said, I get the whole hour for lunch.”

“No thanks, pal. I’ll just ride my horsey home.”