Maybe they need a fork?

The street came to a dead end about 15 feet past the entrance to the drugstore. A brick wall, smooth and three times as tall as Quill, stood in front of them. Percy silently flew up and perched on top.

“He’s not on the other side of it.”

Quill walked up and down the short street, trying the few doors. “These are all locked.”

They retraced their steps, and found themselves looking into the display window of the drugstore. Three mannequins holding umbrellas stared back at them. Two of them held the umbrellas down, unopened. The third held a purple umbrella open, pointing directly toward the window. It was difficult to see much else, but it appeared to be wearing grey pants.

Quill pointed at the third figure and nodded. Percy landed on his shoulder and together they walked into the drugstore. Despite the late hour, it was open. The clerk behind the counter didn’t look up from his book when they walked in.

They moved over toward the display window and saw that the purple umbrella on the ground. Footsteps echoed off the ground and they saw the grey figure running down an aisle full of forks and knives.