"I'll call the cops when I get back to New York. I'll be giving them your name if you don't mind."
    "That's fine." His name was Jeffrey Kenazaro.
    "Good night, sir."
    "Yeah. Drive safe, and all that," he told the two.
    "Thank you. Sorry to disturb you."
    "Wow," an awed Stevie murmured on the way back to the car.
    "You can get some sleep," Gravedigger told him when they got back to the city. "I'll meet you later." Stevie nodded, almost but not quite too tired to be excited about the prospect, and Gravedigger went to make a phone call.
    "Oh, man, it's damn early in the morning," the voice on the other end of the line grumped. "Who is it?" Vance asked.
    "Gravedigger."
    Pause. "Hold on, lemme get a pen. What?"
    He identified the town, the address. "If you look in the garden, it's been recently opened, you'll find the remains of Elsie Turnbull."
    "Who? All right."
    "She was kidnapped ten years ago."
    "Jesus, you're thorough," he mumbled. "Okay. I'll get right on this."
    "The next door neighbor has a diary with some potentially useful names in it."
    "Okay."
    It was about five in the morning. Time to get some sleep.
    
    Later that morning, Miles was schedule to present one of his own papers. On the radio as he was getting ready he heard, "Police are seeking contact with Astro-Man, known to be in the area, so Astro-Man, if you're in the sound of my voice, why don't you give the police a call. Nice cape!"
    Miles went through the presentation in somewhat more of a hurry than originally planned. The audience put it down to the shock of his friends' death. Afterward, he put on his costume and went down to the station.
    "Sorry about the delay, men, what can I help you with?"
    "What, were you off defending us from creatures from Neptune?" one chortled.
    "Yes, as a matter of fact, I was."
    "The captain wanted to talk to you," another offered.
    "Have you ever seen a creature from Neptune, patrolman?" he replied to the first man in a low, steady voice.
    "No...."
    "Pray that you don't." He proceeded to the captain's office.
    "I'm glad you're here. I don't know if this has any bearing on your investigation or not—have you discovered anything that we should be concerned about?"
    "Horus—I assume you know Horus?—and I are collaborating."
    A look of faint terror crossed the captain's face.
    "So far we haven't managed to come up with much."
    "Someone else is apparently collaborating, too. One of my detectives got a call early this morning from Gravedigger."
    "I see."
    "He found the body of Elsie Turnbull last night. Are you familiar with...?"
    No flicker of emotion crossed Astro-Man's expression.
    "I don't know whether this is connected or not," the captain went on, "but it seems too much of a coincidence. If you're not familiar with it, she had been kidnapped ten years ago."
    "Horus actually informed me of the background."
    "It just seems strange that now, after all this time, the body has suddenly turned up. We have detectives upstate right now, looking into it."
    "Do you think Gravedigger could have been involved in the murder?"
    "I wouldn't think so," the captain replied. "He wasn't operating ten years ago, and it seems rather out of character for him. Besides why if he had done it would he be calling us now?"
    "It didn't quite gibe together," Astro-Man admitted.
    "You might want to find some way to get in touch with him."
    "Do the police have any method for doing so?"
    "We pay attention to murder investigations. He'll show up."
    "Well, spread the word on the force that I'd like to speak to him. Maybe Horus has a contact."
    "I'll... I'll do that." The captain nodded.
    
    Stevie woke to find that he'd left the radio on with the police band tuned in when he fell asleep.
    "We had another call in from Astro-Man, apparently he's trying to get in touch with Gravedigger. Any members of the force who have any way of getting in touch with, y'know, the guy with the shovel, apparently there's some sort of masked hero convention or something going on, maybe they're all meeting at Columbia with the eggheads."
    Masked heroes. I'm one of them now. Well, kind of. He put his mask on, and realized that he still had the trowel at his belt from the house last night.
    With no way of getting in touch with the boss, Stevie spent the rest of the day trying to get the outgoing radio from a busted-up police car installed in the Packard.
    
    Angela found a note on her desk from Bob, one of the other correspondents she traded favors with. Thought you'd want to know, one of my connections at the police station said they're investigating an unconnected murder, some guy killed by superstrength. Might want to talk to Dr. Drake down at the coroner's office.
    "Hello, coroner's office?"
    "Hello, may I speak to Dr. Drake, please? This is Angie Miller, with the Times."
    "Hang on just a moment. I'm sure Dr. Gold would love to speak with you."
    "Um—"
    "Hello, this is Dr. Gold, I'm speaking with Miss Miller from the Times?"
    "Yes, Dr. Gold. I'm afraid your receptionist misconnected me; I want to speak with Mr. Drake."
    "Oh, I'm sorry, Daniel's not in today, it's his day off. Is there something I could help you with?"
    "It's nothing with which you need trouble yourself, sir," she replied, amazed even after her years at the paper that a voice could ooze like that. "Something about a recent murder that was committed by someone with unusual, perhaps even inhuman strength?"
    "Hm. Well, I'll check his desk. Hang on just a minute." Pause. "There does seem to be a file here, Miss Miller. Tiberius 'Tiny' Constantine, looks like a three-time loser. He has some theories in here about being killed with a single blow, I haven't looked at the body but I have to admit that sounds a trifle insane to me," he laughed. "But while he is a very skilled doctor, don't get me wrong here, he has a tendency to obsess a little bit."

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