Peggy passed a hand across her forehead. Every trail seemed to lead to a dead end. Tom Agate had disappeared without a trace. Peggy finally gathered herself together and stood up. “Thank you very much,” she said. “I guess that just about finishes any chance of finding my friend.”
“I guess so,” the woman agreed sadly. “Unless”—she got up and put her finger against her lips—“you want ... listen,” she whispered. “There’s Tommy playing now.”
Peggy listened carefully and heard the sound of a banjo being plucked. It seemed to be coming from the back yard. “Maybe Tommy knows something about him. Would you like to ask?” the woman inquired.
“I certainly would,” Peggy said, moving toward the front door.
“Here,” cried the woman, taking her by the arm. “Come around the back way. It’s quicker.”
Moving quietly, the woman led the way through the kitchen and out the back door into the yard. The sound of the banjo was now loud and clear. “Tommy!” cried the woman. “Oh, Tommy! Can you come here a minute?”
The music stopped and in a moment a small tousled head appeared over a back fence. “Hello, Tommy,” the woman said in a friendly voice. “This nice young lady said she wanted to meet you.”
A small tousled head appeared over a back fence.
The face above the fence gave a scowl of annoyance but held its position. Peggy walked over and smiled. “How do you do, Tommy?” she said. “I like the way you play the banjo.”