flying saucer reports by the
dozen. Each one was given lots of newspaper space. The Air Force
conducted investigations. Then flying saucers got unpopular, the Air
Force closed its project, and the newspapers wrote a funny story every
time a report came in. Now we have a rash of sightings in one small
area. People talk about it, but no one gets excited. The authorities
brush it off as just hokum. Yet, your investigation today shows that
people are seeing _something_, even if we don't know what."

Rick nodded thoughtfully. "What's even odder is that a well-known man
disappears, people search for him for a couple of days, and then do
nothing but talk about it. The police aren't even interested, so far as
we can tell."

Steve laughed. "You're right. But look at it in another way. Assume
you're the local policeman. Someone rushes in and tells you that Joe
Doakes has been carried off by a flying saucer. You don't believe in
flying saucers, but you know Doakes. You investigate. His boat has been
found, but his body is missing. What do you assume? That he was really
toted off by some mysterious object? Nope. You assume he was hurt or
killed falling out of the boat. You know that sharks come into the bay
and sometimes swim up creeks. You figure that the currents sometimes act
in odd ways, depending on the winds. You figure a dozen natural kinds of
things, none connected with mysterious flying objects. You call a
coroner's jury, and not a man on it is willing to say for the record
that he believes in flying saucers. What happens?"

"Case closed," Scotty said slowly, "because the body isn't around. No
proof of death, or even of accident. Pending proof of death--meaning the
body--the jury finds that Joe Doakes is missing under mysterious
circumstances and may have met with death or an accident by misadventure
while engaged in his lawful business of crabbing."

"That's about it," Steve agreed. "It isn't really odd when you look at
it that way. But you can bet the case isn't closed. It's just inactive,
until something turns up. Remember there's no detective squad in a small
town."

There was a combination gas station and store on the outskirts of
Cambridge. Steve drove in and honked the horn. A young boy looked out of
the store and called, "Howdy, Steve. Want gas?"

"Not tonight, Jimmy. Ask your grandfather where Calvert's Favor is
located, will you?"

The boy came out of the store and walked toward the car. He was a
freckle