I ran downstairs again. Michael was just emerging from the basement. He looked a little pale.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“We have snakes again,” he said. “I think I should have a word with your father. And your grandfather. This is really getting out of hand.”

I was astonished. Michael usually enjoyed all of Dad’s projects and antics, and for that matter, all of Dr. Blake’s.

“Getting out of hand? What do you mean? What kind of snakes?”

“I don’t know. Big snakes. The basement’s swarming with them.”

“They’re loose?” My voice went up at least an octave.

“No, thank goodness,” he said, with a shudder. “They’re all in terrariums. About a dozen of them. But I’m not really that fond of snakes.”

“I never knew that,” I said. “Don’t let Dad know.”

“Why not?”

“He’d probably recommend spending a lot of time observing snakes and handling them as a way of overcoming your fear.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” Michael said, sounding ever so slightly testy. “I’m just not fond of them, and I have no desire to spend any quality time with them. Normally they don’t bother me that much, but I’m not used to going into my own basement, turning on the light, and finding a whole collection of them staring back at me.”

“I wouldn’t like that either,” I said.

“I think it’s the fact that they never blink,” he said. “That kind of creeps me out.”

“It’s not their fault,” I said. “They have no eyelids.”

“I didn’t say it was their fault. I just don’t like it.”

“Let me lay down the law to Dad about snakes, then,” I said. “I could pretend that I’ve developed a sudden irrational but insurmountable fear of having snakes around with children in the house. Manage to imply that it’s either snakes or grandchildren, and lay down an ultimatum. Get Mother to help.”

“Good idea,” he said. “Meanwhile, I gather you didn’t find Rob and Timmy upstairs.”

“Not unless an evil magician has transformed them along with Dad and Dr. Blake into brightly colored birds,” I said.

“Brightly colored birds?”

“There’s a cage of them in one of the third floor bedrooms. I definitely need to speak to Dad.”

And possibly rekey the house locks.

“Let’s call your father,” Michael suggested. “Maybe he knows what’s up. After all, if there was any kind of emergency, Rob would probably call him.”

“Assuming Rob actually has his cell phone with him and turned on, which seems unlikely. But just in case, you call Dad and I’ll call Rob.”

But there was no answer at the farmhouse or on Rob’s cell phone. Mother and Rose Noire were still up in Washington, of course. I called a few of Rob’s friends, none of whom had any idea where he was. Most of them hadn’t seen much of him lately.

Always a bad sign when Rob started neglecting his friends. It usually pointed to a new girlfriend or a new hobby, and Rob’s taste in both was highly dubious.