Someone was killing the citizens of Philadelphia in a series of murders based on the stories of Hans Christian Andersen. "Thumbelina" was about a tiny woman who lived on a lily pad.ĭetectives Kevin Byrne and Jessica Balzano, along with four other detectives, stood speechless in the suddenly quiet duty room, looking at pen and ink illustrations from a children's book, the realization of what they were facing a raging stream beneath their thoughts. "The Nightingale" was about a bird that captivated an emperor with its song. "The Red Shoes" was a fable about a girl named Karen, a dancer who has her feet amputated. Suddenly he was a denizen of the late nineteenth century-slender, aristocratic, somewhat peculiar. "Only this: To understand magic, you have to believe." Bridgwood slid into the old tuxedo coat. He hung it on the back of the door.īyrne asked, "Is there anything else you can think of that might help us?" "We thank you for your time."Īt this, Bridgwood crossed the room, reached into a closet, pulled out a very old-looking black tuxedo. Can't keep the little wizards and princesses waiting." "I'm sorry I have to rush," Bridgwood said.
Jessica and Byrne stood, slipped on their coats. "We'll get it back to you as soon as possible." "Return it to this address whenever you are finished. You are welcome to borrow it." He slipped a card into the book. "This is not by any means the complete works of Andersen, nor despite its weathered appearance, is it particularly valuable. Perhaps 1875 or so.īridgwood reached into a suitcase on the table. I would put the originals at around the second half of the nineteenth century, Ingrid Fanning had said about the dresses. "And when did Hans Christian Andersen live?" she asked. The story is called 'What the Moon Saw.' " "No, this was written by Hans Christian Andersen. "And this was a Grimms' tale?" she asked. "You say the moon comes to him every night?" Jessica asked. In this way, the painter, without leaving his home, could imagine these scenes, render them to canvas, and perhaps become famous. Before long the moon makes the painter a promise that every night he will return and tell the painter what he has witnessed all over the world. One night he is sitting in his window and the moon comes to him. "He lives in a small town and has no friends. It appeared that he was shifting into a theatrical mode-better posture, hand gestures, lively tone. "Well, this painter is very lonely, you see." Bridgwood suddenly became quite animated. "What happens in the stories?" she asked. Jessica flashed on the "paintings" found on their victims. It is a narrative that tells of a young painter and the moon." "One that springs to mind is a rather long story that is really a series of very short sketches. "Can you think of any specific stories or collections that focus on the moon as its subject?" Jessica asked.īridgwood thought for a few moments. "Nothing could be further from the truth." "I don't want to leave you with the impression that fairy tales are all alike," he added. Terribly broad."īridgwood sounded apologetic now, like a man who had shortchanged an entire field of academic study. Many times the conflict is resolved by using, to some extent, magic. Folks are usually all good or all bad in fairy tales. They usually involve a humble hero, a perilous quest, a vile villain. "Are they tied to any religion?" Byrne asked. They tend to involve the mysterious or supernatural, they tend not to be tied to any specific moment in history. Written tales probably grew out of the oral folk-tale tradition. "Essentially, a fairy tale is a story that arises out of myth and legend. "If you could sum up what they all have in common, it might make it easier for us," Byrne said. You asked for an overview, and that's what I'm giving you." "There are, of course, many other important figures. In fact, a book called The Uses of Enchantment by Bruno Bettelheim explored the psychology of fairy tales and children. "You probably have the notion that fairy tales are rather sweet little morality tales for children." "Oh yes." Bridgwood smiled, a little sadly.
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