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Lars SauveLars Sauve
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    What a week of breakthroughs it has been! One led to another led to another…

    I found the mansion on the hillside to which the music box’s song referred. Had to stop taking it totally literally, it does not have a view of the Atlantic but in the yard is a mosaic of the ocean. My granddaughters and I were out for a drive when the oldest mentioned that the hilly landscape made her think of the song. We explored a bit and found a magnificent house. We pulled up into the driveway and rang the doorbell, but no one was home. We decided to look around a bit, saw the grounds, the gardens, the younger granddaughter looked in the garage window and saw a red sports car. Then we saw the mosaic. We noted all this and left.

    The house number was 1910. Combine that with the year the song came out, 1999, and we realized we are looking for someone who lived from 1907-1999. That’s a fine life.

    Still, we knew the dates, but where to look? We called in my former search partner (it’s not my kid) to re-examine our records. She re-read the journal and found a reference to a flour mishap. On a whim she decided to pour flour through the thimble onto dark paper – it revealed a rudimentary map of sorts. I realized that it resembled a far off area we once explored, with a cemetery deep in a forest. My search partner and I knew something was off, but we decided to visit at once. This was Friday.

    Friday night, we hiked our way in (the search partner and the granddaughters). When we got there, our suspicions were confirmed: this was indeed a very old cemetery, long since abandoned. No one had been buried here in 1999. However, cleaning off the gravestones, we found one for a boy who was born in 1899 and died in 1910. Furthermore, on the stone was the number 75, which didn’t seem to serve a purpose. But we remembered when we got those malts in Oregon and heard “Pumped Up Kicks.” In a simple number substitution code, the numbers representing pumped add up to 75. This was the place. We knew it wasn’t a real grave.

    We dug up the not-grave. The “casket” (a small metal box) was empty, except for an elaborate metal handle of a walking stick. A crow. I know where the pond is now. I know where to go.