Espiritu
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PART 6
Hannibal Heyes decided to continue questioning the Kid about his attacker, sometimes re-phrasing familiar questions in hopes of sparking a new memory or recall. When it was clear his friend wasn’t going to be able to come up with any more useful information (and also when the Kid said, “Enough!”), Heyes decided to make amends by pampering the gunfighter.
Several temperature checks, blanket re-arrangings and water offerings later, the Kid held up his hand and said, “I have a headache.”
“I don’t wonder, after being conked on the head like you were.”
“No, Heyes, you’re giving me a headache! I love you like a brother, but I don’t need all this . . . this mollycoddling! I just want to lie here. That’s all, just lie here. Why don’t you go downstairs and join Harry and everyone else in whatever the hell game they’ve thought up now and let me rest?”
“Kid!” Heyes pretended to be insulted.
The Kid waved him off. “Go! Just go!”
“You’re sure . . . ?”
“Go!”
Heyes rose and trudged to the door. “I’ll be back later to check on you,” he said as he turned to leave.
“Heyes?”
Heyes looked back in time to see the Kid wink at him before closing his eyes to sleep.
* * *
​
The female guests had returned to the solarium, but Heyes discovered all the men had retired to the smoking room. Heyes politely greeted the ladies and left to join the gentlemen. His only aim at this point was to find the person who hurt his friend, and he knew that was a man; let Briscoe go after those diamonds and jewel thieves himself – Heyes had another focus.
But where was Briscoe? When he had left the Kid’s room, he said he would be joining the guests. Briscoe missing? Heyes groaned quietly; he didn’t want to have to worry about Briscoe, too. In fact, the entire idea was appalling. He decided to put it to the back of his mind for the time being.
The men greeted him into the fold and offered him a cigar, which he gratefully accepted. He even more gratefully accepted Wethersby’s gracious offer of a sandwich and coffee, having re-gained his appetite after knowing his friend was all right. He reported Mr. Jones’s headache as disappearing and said most likely he would be able to join the other guests for dinner. Heyes very closely watched everyone’s reactions to this; some of the men were pleased to hear the news; one or two said nothing.
“You probably noticed,” said Prof. Argot, “the women are gossiping in the other room. They weren’t interested in joining us as we smoked. My wife in particular dislikes . . .”
“Oh, yes, yes,” smiled Heyes, remembering Anne-Marie Argot’s earlier exclamation.
Phil Hanson laughed. He wasn’t smoking. “That’s all right,” he brushed it off. “Anne-Marie should do as she pleases. She’s a fine young woman.” Prof. Argot glared at him.
Aldert Beekhof quickly interjected, “I wonder what the fair sex will have us doing! I expect another parlor game perhaps.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Ellwood. “I wonder what they’ll come up with. The ladies are cooking up something, all right.”
“Well, no music – so can’t dance, thank God,” said Mr. Teagarden.
Ellwood laughed. “I’m glad you’re taking that attitude. I had several musicians planned for tonight’s party but the storm no doubt will keep them away.”
They all turned to look at the rain pounding the windows. “I find rainy days like this introspective,” said Prof. Argot. There was a thoughtful pause and then he suddenly addressed Phil Hanson. “How long have you been married, Phil?”
“Oh . . . not long.” It was obvious the question took Hanson by surprise.
“I thought Tom mentioned that you had children.”
“They’re hers, not mine. Cassie’s older than me.”
“I thought your wife’s name was Christine, not Cassie.”
Hanson, for probably the first time, stopped smiling. He cast a glance at Ellwood, then said, “It’s my pet name for her. Why all the questions, Argot?”
Prof. Argot shrugged. “No reason.” He turned back to the window.
Heyes had been watching the reactions of everyone. There was a decided chill in the room which he was loath to break, but had some questions of his own. “Mr. Hanson . . . “
“Phil, please. All first names here. My friend likes to keep an informal house.” The smile was back.
Heyes returned the smile with the same amount of sincerity. “You don’t smoke, Phil?”
“Nope. Never took up the habit. Besides, in my line of work, I don’t like to have a haze lingering ‘round me. I agree with Anne-Marie, I expect.”
Heyes’s smile continued. “Oh? What is your line of work, Phil?”
Heyes did not miss the quick worrying glance Ellwood gave his friend before answering for him. “Joshua, Phil is a . . . well . . . “
Hanson laughed. “It’s all right, Tom. I’ll tell him. I work for the government, Joshua. In a somewhat secret capacity, I’m afraid.”
“Can’t tell us, huh?”
“No, indeed!”
Heyes kept the momentum going. He turned quickly to Trevor Teagarden. “Mr. Tea . . . uh, Trevor. What is it you do for a living? I understand you are a businessman?”
Teagarden did not smile. “Actually, we were just discussing that when you came in. I’m retired,” he said bluntly.
Heyes feigned surprise. “Oh? You seem much too young!”
Since Heyes had kept the accusation out of his tone, Teagarden took it as a compliment. He smiled. “Yes, I suppose so.” He winked at Heyes, the second wink Heyes had received that day. He wished he could get some from women instead. “But to tell you the truth, I still have my hand in it!”
Ellwood laughed. “I’ll say he does! Owns the biggest lumber empire in the West! Still runs the day-to-day, right from that house across the lake.” Ellwood pointed to the window but no one could see anything due to the rain. Nonetheless, they couldn’t have missed seeing the mansion when they’d been waiting for the boat.
Teagarden laughed and Heyes couldn’t remember another time when he’d seen the man laugh. “No, no, Tom! Hardly! The day-to-day is run by my minions in various locations. I’m merely the last word.”
Ellwood bowed and laughed again. “I stand corrected.”
The general attitude had turned jovial again. Prof. Argot addressed Heyes with a smile. “Joshua, you are aware I am a professor, but I wonder if you can venture a guess as to a professor of what?”
Heyes had been enjoying his game but did not like being put at a disadvantage. He had no idea what Argot taught and didn’t care. He pretended to give it great thought. “Well, let’s see . . . you’re very well-spoken . . . hmmm, I don’t know. A professor of words?”
Prof. Argot was clearly shocked. “Why, that’s remarkable! Yes, Joshua, that’s exactly what I am! A professor of linguistics!” The other men turned to look at Heyes with wonder, and, it seemed, suspicion.
“A guess, Professor, merely a guess. My other thought was dance teacher!” They all laughed and once again the tension in the room was broken.
Aldert Beekhof, the Dutch man, was the only one Heyes had not yet initially questioned. He seemed the most mysterious of all. But before Heyes had the chance to say anything, the door burst open and the three women burst in.
They appeared excited and happy. The married women made right for their husbands and Miss Cornwell headed for Beekhof. “We have an announcement to make,” said Trudy Teagarden giddily. “We’re going to have a séance!”
“A séance!” Her husband was not happy. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Trudy, don’t be silly. Play the piano or something.”
“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” said Prof. Argot.
“Who knows?” Anne-Marie Argot said mysteriously. “There’s been lots of funny things going on around here!” She made a noise like she assumed a ghost would make if it existed.
Hanson laughed. He came over by her and grabbed her free arm. “This might be fun! Come on, everyone!” Mrs. Argot giggled, and arm-in-arm-in-arm, she, her husband and Hanson headed for the dining room. She looked back over her shoulder at the crowd. “Come on! Everyone knows you have to have a séance around a table!” Miss Cornwell and Mr. Beekhof followed.
“This is ridiculous,” Teagarden grumbled, while his wife pushed him in the right direction.
Ellwood and Heyes were the only ones remaining in the smoking room. Ellwood gave Heyes a menacing look that clearly said Put an end to this! Heyes thought quickly. “This might be good, Mr. Ellwood. It’s Halloween, right? It will take attention off the real ghosts.”
“I hired you three to do a job . . . “ Ellwood seethed.
“Pulling the spirits out in the open will make it easier, Mr. Ellwood. Come on.” Heyes put his hand on Ellwood’s shoulder. His endearing manner apparently did the trick. Ellwood ceased grumbling.
Just as the two of them were heading out the door, Wethersby was entering the smoking room with a coffee urn.
“We’re heading for the dining room to have a séance,” Ellwood told his butler. “I think you’d better bring us something stronger.”
* * *
​
Upstairs in his room, Kid Curry was awakened suddenly. He lay perfectly still in an attempt to determine what it was that had awakened him. Deciding it was the pounding in his head, he rose slowly. He felt well enough to join the company, so opened his door and stepped into the hall. From two stories down, he could just barely hear the muted tones of Constance Cornwell’s voice. No one else was speaking so he decided she was probably giving a recital of one of her plays. This did not interest him, so he closed the door again and stepped over to his window.
The storm was still in full force, pelting the window with rain and leaves. It looked to him like the debris was being thrown by some immense invisible being. He chuckled at the image and then ducked as a small branch just barely missed breaking the window. He pulled the drapes.
His head was still throbbing. Surely the hit he had endured the night before was the cause, but the weather no doubt played a part as well. Heyes was most likely watching Miss Cornwell’s recital and Briscoe probably was, too, so the Kid decided to go back to bed until dinner.
He couldn’t sleep, though, so he lit the candle on the nightstand and looked around for something to read. The room had been furnished with a handful of magazines and books. He wanted some light reading, so he chose a collection of leFanu short stories.
His gunbelt was hanging over the bedpost, and, when he heard a noise in the attic, he pulled his gun and pointed it upward. But the noise stopped and he lay still until his heart slowed to its normal pace.
* * *
​
Ellwood and Heyes were the last to enter the dining room. Ellwood headed for his seat at the head of the table. Just then, Briscoe showed up.
“Harry!” exclaimed Heyes, slapping him on the back. “I was beginning to worry about you.”
Surprised, Briscoe said, “Really?”
“No.”
Not surprised, Harry lowered his voice so only Heyes could hear. “Heyes, I’ve found something. I’ve got to talk to you.”
A discovery of Harry Briscoe’s may or may not be of importance, but Heyes knew they would not be able to communicate in private for a while, at least until the séance was over. “You’ll have to tell me later,” he whispered. Then more loudly: “Have a seat, Harry. We’re going to have some fun.”
​
At this point the ever-observant detective realized everyone was seated at the table. Most of the people were smiling. “Oh? Well, never let it be said that Harry Briscoe wasn’t in for some fun.”
“We’re going to have a séance,” Trudy Teagarden announced gaily.
Briscoe’s cigar fell out of his mouth. Heyes picked it up off the floor and put it back in his mouth.
“S – s - séance?” Briscoe stammered.
“It will be such fun!” Anne-Marie Argot sing-songed.
“It’s all the rage in New York these days,” Constance Cornwell pointed out.
“S – s - séance?” Briscoe repeated.
Heyes guided Briscoe to his chair. “OK, Harry, the chair’s right behind you. Just bend your legs and down you go. That’s right.” Heyes sat next to him.
“S – s - séance?” Briscoe repeated.
“Why, Harry, don’t you want to participate?” asked Mrs. Teagarden. “You don’t sound very enthused.”
“I don’t want to participate,” said her husband. His wife gave him a look.
Since Kid Curry was upstairs in his room, the chair on the other side of Briscoe was unoccupied. Phil Hanson sat just beyond. He leaned over and slapped Harry on the back. “Buck up, old man. We’re all going to participate!” Briscoe laughed nervously.
Wethersby entered with brandies for everyone. Teagarden asked for a double. Briscoe asked for a triple.
“Turn down the lamps please before you go, and shut the door behind you,” Ellwood instructed his butler.
Wethersby did as he was told and exited the room. Although it was afternoon and there was a single lit candle in the middle of the table, the room was still fairly dark because of the storm howling outside. Anne-Marie Argot pointed out the atmosphere was perfect for a séance. Briscoe laughed nervously again.
Beekhof said, “Briscoe, you should have joined us in the smoking room after lunch. Where were you?”
“Uh . . . “
Heyes interjected, “Did you take a nap like I suggested, Harry? To settle your weak stomach after lunch?”
“Uh . . . yeah, that’s it – I took a nap. To settle my weak stomach after lunch. What exactly is involved in a séance?” For not the first time, Heyes wished he had never met Briscoe.
“Why, Harry,” Trudy Teagarden trilled. “You just wait and see! Wait and see!”
Across the table from her, Constance Cornwell took charge. In her commanding stage voice, she asked, “Has anyone here ever experienced a séance before?” When no one spoke up, she said, “Let us begin. We will all hold hands.”
Sitting through a ghostly séance was bad enough, but Briscoe realized he had to hold hands with Hannibal Heyes on one side, and Phil Hanson on the other. Hanson was already moving his chair closer to make it easier to reach. Both Heyes and Briscoe said, “Is this necessary?” Hanson laughed.
“Yes, gentlemen,” Miss Cornwell said sternly. Once all hands were clasped, she looked straight ahead. Heyes noticed that she first gave a quick glance at her female compatriots and they both stifled giggles.
“We begin,” said Constance Cornwell, in her best low serious stage voice. “We must close our eyes and divest our minds of all worldly thoughts . . . .”
Heyes had a focus which did not include either closing or divesting.
“ . . . Spirit World, we are open to your appearance. We welcome your appearance. We welcome your essence. You are welcome at this table by all who are at this table.” Miss Cornwell paused for a moment as she felt something brush by her face. Breaking her own rule of keeping eyes closed, she looked to see what it was but saw nothing; Heyes was watching her but saw nothing either. She continued: “With great respect, Spirit World, we wish to summon the spirit or spirits who occupy these premises. Please come to us, spirit. Please honor us with your presence. If you are present, please give us a sign.”
At this point, the candle in the middle of the table blew out. Since no one would conceivably have noticed since their eyes were closed, the candle went that extra step and fell over. All eyes opened.
No one said anything at first. Harry’s hand gripped Heyes’s so hard that Heyes whispered, “Harry!” ferociously.
Clearly nervous, Beekhof whispered, “Perhaps the wind. These old houses are so drafty.”
“This is a new house,” Ellwood pointed out simply.
“Sssh!” Miss Cornwell continued, but her voice wasn’t as steady as it had been earlier, and Heyes noticed she and her female compatriots shrugged at each other. “We must remain respectful to the Spirit World.” She lowered her voice to the same chant she had used earlier. “We acknowledge your presence. Please let us know how many spirits occupy this residence.” Nothing happened, so she added, “Please rap on the table to communicate with us the number of spirits who occupy this residence.”
One rap. Near the middle of the table on the left. Heyes felt Briscoe’s hand start to sweat.
Another rap. This time across the table.
One more rap, this one at the end of the table. Heyes felt Briscoe start to shake.
Deciding for the moment to play Spirit Squelcher, Heyes said in a loud whisper, “Constance, why don’t you ask them to leave?”
“Yes! Ask them to leave!” Ellwood seconded.
In the same spirit-summoning voice, Miss Cornwell continued, “We acknowledge the presence of three searching souls in these premises. We greet you with great respect and wish you to respect the living beings who occupy these premises by departing these premises for another plateau. Will you honor the living by respecting their request, even as we honor you with our attempt at communication?
All of a sudden, three distinctly female voices trilled very loudly, “Oooooooooh - Yes!” Everyone opened their eyes to see three small opaque white ghosts fluttering up and down near the ceiling.
Ellwood and Teagarden both said, “What the hell?” Heyes and Hanson stood up to investigate. Briscoe fainted.
Beekhof turned up the lamps so everyone could see better. Heyes and Hanson each grabbed one of the ghosts. As they pulled them down from the ceiling, Trudy Teagarden said, “Oh, be careful! Those are some of my best lace hankies!” The three women started laughing.
The “ghosts” were merely ladies’ handkerchiefs attached to wires that were thrown over ceiling beams and controlled by the three women. The men, even Teagarden, laughed along with the women. Ellwood was not amused and spent his time reviving Briscoe instead.
“Tom, you naughty boy,” Mrs. Teagarden said, “you’ve been scaring us half silly with your ‘ghosts’ and your magic tricks and we decided we had better give you a scare of your own!”
“Yes, serves you right,” added Mrs. Argot between laughs, “all those parlor tricks – ghosts disappearing through windows and Trudy’s brooch and everything – now you see how it feels!”
Ellwood laughed nervously. “Nicely played, ladies,” he said weakly.
Constance handed the third handkerchief to Trudy. “All in fun, Tom, all in fun. We ladies also thought it might put us all in the mood for the Halloween party tonight!”
“Ja, it was wonderful!” said Beekhof. He applauded and everyone else, even Briscoe, clapped. The “ghosts” and the fake séance were a big success.
As everyone left the dining room for the solarium, all chatting happily, Heyes overheard Mrs. Argot ask Mrs. Teagarden, “Did you knock the candle over?” Mrs. Teagarden replied, “No. Maybe Constance did it. Although she wasn’t close to it.”
* * *
​
Upstairs in his room, Kid Curry found he couldn’t read any more. He felt useless and anxious so decided to venture out. He heard voices downstairs but his friend’s was not among them, so he decided to check Heyes’s room to see if he was there.
Heyes had left his door unlocked so the Kid walked right in. The room was very cold compared to his own and the hallway. “No wonder – the fire’s out,” he said to himself.
The Kid re-kindled the fire in the fireplace and watched for a moment while it re-started. He turned to leave but caught a reflection of himself in the mirror. He looked all right but the mirror was very sooty and generally dirty. Once again being the good friend, the Kid took his own neckerchief off to clean the mirror, but instead found his other hand reaching for the mirror.
His other fingers folded in, his index finger touched the mirror, to his complete astonishment. He tried pulling his hand away but it would not obey him! Instead, his finger began running along the mirror, tracing in the dirt. He watched helplessly, unable to stop, as his finger traced a message in the dirt.
T H E R E I S D A N G E R
​
The Kid looked at his finger, at the mirror message, and at his finger again. He flexed his left hand and everything was once again working as he wanted. What could possibly have caused him to do this? It was as if he had no control over his body for a moment!
Just then, he witnessed an ethereal white apparition emerge from the mirror and rise effortlessly to the ceiling, where it disappeared. A moment later, he heard the familiar knocking from the attic.
PART 7
As the guests headed to the solarium, still discussing the ladies’ fake séance, Briscoe hung back, catching hold of Heyes’s arm.
Heyes shot him a perplexed look, as Briscoe said to the group, “Excuse us, I just need a word with my . . . er . . . associate.” He gave them his most ingratiating smile. “We’ll join you shortly.”
The others nodded and disappeared into the solarium while Briscoe pulled Heyes a distance away to avoid being overheard.
“Where’ve you been, Harry?” hissed Heyes. “I thought you were going down to the smoking room for a cigar?”
“I was,” said Briscoe, “but, as I was heading down the hall, I spotted Ellwood coming up the other way. He was carrying a packet of some kind, and looked real nervous, looking over his shoulder every few seconds. Naturally, that aroused my suspicions,” he said proudly, “so I ducked into a doorway so I could observe. He stopped outside the door to his study and looked up and down the hallway a few times before going inside.”
“And?” Heyes prompted exasperatedly.
“He was in there for less than two minutes, and came out without the packet, still looking around, nervously. Then he went down to the smoking room and stood outside the door for a moment, smoothing down his jacket and taking a deep breath before he entered.”
“Interesting,” Heyes said thoughtfully.
“Yes, so I went down to the study and conducted a search.”
“You did?” Heyes said, surprised by Briscoe’s sudden bout of bravery.
Briscoe nodded pompously. “I did. I didn’t find anything unusual in his desk or bookcases, but what I did find was a wall safe, hidden behind a large painting on the wall,” he said, giving Heyes a ‘how about that!’ look.
Heyes looked appropriately impressed by Briscoe’s sleuthing skills.
“Naturally, I wasn’t able to open that,” Briscoe continued. “But you can.”
Heyes grinned, enthused by the challenge of opening a safe. “Lead the way, Harry.”
“Me?” Briscoe shook his head apprehensively. “Oh, no, no. That’s your department. How would it look to Mr. Bannerman if he heard I was caught attempting to break a safe? Bannerman men are detectives, not safebreakers. That would be considered a dismissible offence. I’d never get my job back if I got caught doing something like that.” He shuddered at the thought. “No, I’ve done the detective work in finding the safe. Now it’s up to you.” He made to walk away, but Heyes grabbed his arm.
“Oh, so you can’t afford to get caught trying to open a safe, but it’s OK for me to?” he growled. “Well, thanks, Harry! May I remind you that we’re doing you a favour coming out here – for a paltry three hundred apiece I might add – to get you a shot at getting your job back. A favour that, so far, has almost cost the Kid his life, and could end up getting us both sent to prison if it’s left up to you.” He shook his head angrily. “Either the three of us are in this together, or Kid an’ me are out, and you can solve the case by yourself. What’s it to be?”
“Now, Heyes, there’s no need to get upset.” Briscoe went into pacifying mode. “I was speaking purely hypothetically, of course. You’re way too smart to get caught breaking the safe. Of course I’m in.” He gave a nervous smile. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
Heyes let go of his arm and eyed him suspiciously. “I dunno, Harry. I’m just not sure we can trust you.”
“Sure you can.”
Heyes snorted. “Oh, sure! Like we trusted you with Charlie O’Rourke’s gold, which you tried to steal and cheat us out of the reward for.”
“That was just a momentary lapse of judgment. I’m back on the straight and narrow for good now. You can trust me.” Briscoe held up his right hand. “Honest!”
Heyes gave him a disdainful look. “All right,” he said presently. “But, be warned, try and double cross us, or sell us down the river, and your life won’t be worth living!”
“You can trust me,” said Briscoe, shifting nervously from foot to foot as he looked into Heyes’ ominous gaze.
“All right then, we’re going to go to Ellwood’s study, and you’re going to keep watch outside the door while I try and open the safe. If Ellwood comes along and looks like he wants to come in, try and distract him.”
“What if I can’t?”
“I’ll have to try and hide. But I’m sure you can find something to distract him with.”
Briscoe looked doubtful but nodded and followed Heyes down to Ellwood’s study. With a warning look to Briscoe, Heyes entered the study and looked around him.
There was an ornate desk in front of the window and bookshelves on two of the walls. A leather sofa graced the wall opposite the window, above which was a large painting. It looked like an original and it looked expensive.
Pulling the sofa forward, Heyes stepped behind it and examined the painting. On one side was a small catch which, when pressed, allowed the painting, which was hinged to the wall on the opposite side, to be swung open like a door, revealing the safe. With a smile, he limbered up his fingers and, placing one ear to the safe, began to listen as he manipulated the tumblers. It wasn’t a very sophisticated model and Heyes had it open in less than ten minutes.
Carefully he began to examine the contents. Amongst bundles of cash and various letters and documents, Heyes spotted a rolled-up leather pouch. On opening it, his suspicious were confirmed. It was a set of tools used for burglarizing. As he put it back in place, his eyes fell on a velvet draw-string bag tucked under some folders. Carefully lifting it out he opened it and looked inside, his eyes widening when he saw it full of diamonds.
Tipping a few out into his hand, he examined them more closely. He was no expert but these looked like the real thing to him.
As he was looking at them, he became aware of some more ghostly knocking sounds emanating from upstairs.
Putting the diamonds back in the bag, he replaced it exactly where he’d found it. He was just about to close the safe when he spotted a small, engraved, silver case tucked in one corner. Taking it out, he flipped it open to discover it filled with calling cards. Closer inspection revealed that the calling cards were not in Thomas Ellwood’s name. Indeed, every card held a different name and, as he looked through them, he was only mildly surprised to see the name Vernon Lawless on one of them.
Carefully, Heyes replaced the case where he’d found it and then closed the safe. He placed the sofa back in position and then quietly left the room, where an anxious-looking Briscoe turned to look at him.
“Well?” he asked.
“The diamonds are in the safe,” said Heyes. “So it looks like Ellwood is our jewel thief.”
“What!?” Briscoe said, a little louder than he intended. “Well, I’ll be —“
“Sssh!” Heyes cut him off. “There was also a silver card case in the safe, full of calling cards in several different names – including one for Vernon Lawless!”
Briscoe’s jaw dropped. “There was?”
Heyes nodded. “Seems our friend Ellwood operates under a number of different identities. Come on, let’s get out of here before someone comes.”
“Did you bring the diamonds with you?” asked Briscoe as they headed back upstairs, his only thought to take possession of the diamonds and leave as soon as possible to return to the Bannermans.
“No.”
“But, why? That’s what we’re here for — “
“You can bet that Ellwood is keeping a close eye on them,” Heyes cut him off. “If he opened the safe and found them gone, he’d know one of his guests had taken them and, since he knows everyone here personally but us, we’d be the number one suspects.”
“Couldn’t we hide them somewhere? He couldn’t accuse us if they weren’t in our possession.”
Heyes shook his head. “No. We’d never be able to retrieve them and get off the island with them once he knew they were gone.”
“So, what are we going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m gonna have to think on that. For the time being, we just let things lie and behave normally.”
“Behave normally.” Briscoe nodded.
“All the time keeping a close eye on our friend Ellwood, of course.”
“Of course, of course,” agreed Briscoe.
They headed for the Kid’s room. It was growing dark now, the stormy skies outside resembling the onset of evening.
There were several chandeliers along the corridor but Heyes noticed that only half of them were lit. Turning to Briscoe he said, “It’ll be time for dinner soon. Why don’t you get freshened up and we can go down to dinner together.”
Briscoe nodded and went into his room and Heyes went to the Kid’s.
As he entered, the Kid appeared to be dozing but woke as he heard the door close. “Heyes! Have I got something to tell you!” he began, intending to recount what had happened with the mirror in Heyes’s room, but Heyes spoke over him.
“So have I. I found the diamonds!”
“You what?” gasped the Kid, the mirror temporarily forgotten. “Where?”
Heyes explained about Briscoe getting suspicious over Ellwood’s behavior and searching his study, where he’d found the safe. “I had him stand guard outside while I opened the safe, and there they were.”
“So, what are we gonna do?”
“Don’t know yet. I’m going to have to think on that for a while.”
The Kid nodded thoughtfully.
“Kid, have you noticed just how many chandeliers there are around this house, and yet half of them are never lit?” Heyes said presently.
“Can’t say I’ve noticed,” the Kid replied.
“Ellwood is a wealthy man, and likes to show it off. Having gone to the trouble of installing so many chandeliers it seems a little odd that he would leave half of them unlit, don’t you think?”
“Maybe,” said the Kid. “I’ll tell you what is odd. I went into your room earlier to see if you were in there, and your fire was out. So I rekindled it and as I stood up, I noticed the mirror over the fireplace looked very sooty. I was going to clean it but as I reached out to do it, it was like something suddenly took control of my hand and made me write on it, in the soot.”
Heyes laughed. “Sounds like you had a really weird dream.”
“It was no dream, Heyes, honest.”
“What did it make you write?” Heyes decided to humour him.
“It made me write ‘there is danger’ and then this white vision came out of the mirror and floated up through the ceiling. Then I heard knocking from the attic.”
Heyes started to laugh, at the absurdity of the Kid’s story, but then stopped, as he remembered hearing knocking from upstairs while he was examining the diamonds.
“What?” asked the Kid, seeing his expression.
“How long ago was that?”​
The Kid shrugged. “Not long. Less than half an hour ago.”
“I heard knocking about then, too, while I was checking out the safe.”
“See, I told you I wasn’t dreaming. The spirit . . . well, I guess that could be staged somehow, although I don’t know how, or why anyone would want to, but whatever took over my hand was real, Heyes. It was like my hand didn’t belong to me.”
Still disbelieving, Heyes said. “Maybe you were asleep, dreaming, and the knocking woke you up and you got confused?” he suggested. “How can something take control of your hand?”
“I don’t know, Heyes, but it did. If you don’t believe me come and have a look for yourself.”
He headed to Heyes’s room with Heyes following, still unconvinced.
Crossing to the mirror, the Kid pointed. “Look.”
Heyes looked at the mirror. There, in the soot, were written the words THERE IS DANGER. He looked from the mirror to the Kid and back again. It wasn’t often that Hannibal Heyes was lost for words, but this was one of those times.
“Still say I was dreaming?”
Heyes opened and closed his mouth, and gave a small shrug. “I – I guess not . . . But . . . how . . .? Who . . .?”
“I don’t know. But I vote we heed its warning and get the hell out of here.”
“We can’t leave, even if we wanted to. Don’t forget, the boat is missing. No, whether we like it or not, Kid, we’re stuck here, and we need to find out what’s going on before we either end up dead, or in prison,” said Heyes, the possibility that Briscoe might have a plan of his own, to get them to retrieve the diamonds for him and then somehow pin the blame on them while he escaped with the jewels, suddenly pushing its way into Heyes’ mind.
The Kid blew out his cheeks, wondering how they’d ever let Harry talk them into this job.
“Will you feel up to coming down to dinner tonight?” Heyes asked now.
“I sure will. I’m starving.”
“Or joining the group for talk this afternoon?”
“I guess.”
“I’d better have a look at the gash on your head, see how obvious it is. We told the guests that you had a migraine. If you go down to dinner with a hole in your head, they’re going to get suspicious.”
“A hole? Don’t exaggerate,” scoffed the Kid.
“Hey, you can’t see the back of your head!” quipped Heyes. “Come on, let’s have a look.”
They went back to the Kid’s room where Heyes removed the makeshift bandage and examined the wound.
It had dried off some now, and with a careful bit of manipulating of his hair they managed to mostly disguise it.
“Try not to let anyone stand behind you,” Heyes told him, “and if anyone does spot it, make up some story about banging your head on the door or something.”
The Kid gave him a withering look as he went to wash up.
PART 8
​
“Come on in. Join us, gentlemen!” In the solarium, Tom Ellwood was leading a spirited group conversation about famous paintings and sculptures. It was one subject of which everyone present seemed to possess at least a rudimentary knowledge. Except the newcomers.
There were still several empty chairs so Heyes took one near Miss Cornwell. The Kid wanted to sit near Anne-Marie Argot, but her husband, on the other side of her, gave him a stern look that clearly said Find a different chair. The Kid was a little surprised that Phil Hanson wasn’t sitting in the empty chair near her but perhaps Prof. Argot had afforded him the same look.
But the Kid got lucky because Mrs. Argot jumped up, as only a teenager could do, and ran to him, saying, “Oh, Mr. Jones! We were so worried about you! Do come sit near me!” She took his arm and it felt so good to him that he decided to risk a gunfight, duel, shouting match or anything else her husband would throw at him. But Prof. Argot merely said icily, “Yes, Thaddeus. Join us. I trust you are feeling better?”
Trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to keep his face turned toward the crowd, the Kid melted into his premium seat next to the lovely Mrs. Argot. She maintained hold of his arm as she excitedly asked, “Are you all right now? Dear man! Whatever happened to you?”
“I had a headache,” he said simply. Both he and Heyes noted the reactions of everyone to this piece of news. Without exception, everyone looked concerned.
“Perhaps a migraine?” suggested Trudy Teagarden.
“Ja, I have migraines,” Beekhof added. “Very bad.”
“They can lay you out, all right, old man,” said Hanson.
Ellwood, who was sitting next to his friend, said, “Oh? I didn’t know you got migraines, Phil.”
Hanson looked at him sternly and said, “I don’t. My wife does.” It was oddly an intense moment.
Miss Cornwell broke the tension by saying, “But how are you feeling now, Thaddeus?”
He smiled at her. “I’m fine, Miss . . . sorry – Constance.”
“I’m pleased.” Her smile and concern seemed genuine.
“We all are,” said Anne-Marie Argot, and hers did not.
The Kid was a little uncomfortable being the center of attention, so he asked the host to continue what he was talking about.
“I was merely saying that there are so many wonderful Old Masters out there, but no doubt there are more than a few talented New Masters as well! They simply have not been discovered as yet. That’s the reason I support the work of a number of young artists, both in America and Europe. Look around, folks, and you’ll see art throughout this house. Signatures you don’t know yet but I hope you will some day!”
“To what extent do you support this work, Tom?” asked Trevor Teagarden.
“A stipend. Sometimes more.”
“Goodness!” said Miss Cornwell. “Am I to believe that you are supporting the work as well as the daily expenses of young artists all over the world?” Anne-Marie Argot gasped as well, and turned her entire attention from the Kid to Ellwood.
Ellwood laughed. “I suppose that’s true. But for me it’s an investment, like anything else. Take a look at some of the paintings you see here. Note the names. Buy their work if you agree with me. Tell your friends. I realize a percentage of their sales, so the more famous they get, the richer I get!”
Heyes was suspicious of anyone doing something like that, partly because of the insincere tone of voice he believed Ellwood was using, but he laughed like everyone else.
The afternoon passed pleasantly enough, everybody talking about themselves more than anything else. When it was Briscoe’s turn, Heyes stepped in before any damage could emanate from the detective and said, “I think Mr. Briscoe is one of the finest bankers I’ve ever met. He was willing to give Mr. Jones and myself chances to learn the banking business.”
“With which bank are you associated, Harry?” asked Mrs. Teagarden.
Once again, before Briscoe had the chance to open his mouth, Heyes stepped in with, “Oh, I don’t think Mr. Ellwood is willing to have that information revealed.”
“You’re quite right,” Ellwood laughed. “I have investments in many institutions, but I would rather not divulge where.” The subject was dropped.
Talk turned to other topics and everyone was able to participate in the general conversation to some extent, even Briscoe. Comfort abounded, and Wethersby made sure each guest had sufficient quantities of his or her favorite drink. Even the lovely Maggie made several appearances to deliver snacks, fluff cushions, etc. There was no further suggestion of parlor games or seances. The remainder of the afternoon was uneventful.
As the afternoon drew to a close, the host Thomas Ellwood stood and made an announcement. “I suggest we all prepare for dinner as it will be served shortly. Cookie prefers to keep the menu a secret, but I snuck a quick peek and I am quite sure you will approve - he’s starting with tomato soup with basil and cream – this is one of my favorites – and he serves it with fresh bread and freshly-churned butter, and I also noticed a variety of fresh greens and cheeses in the kitchen. I’m fairly certain some fish or squab will make an appearance on your plates, and I requested rack of lamb for the entrée. So I know Cookie is going all-out to please you! (And I’ve imported a few select bottles of wine as well for the occasion).”
Ellwood waited until the oohs and aahs died down before continuing. “And then – the party! My friends, you will not see me at the dinner table as I will be attending to last-minute preparations that I wish to handle myself, but when you finally feel you can tear yourselves away from the delectable repast, head to the main parlor for the party. To kick off the amusements, we will begin with a game, a child’s game. We will begin with an adult’s version of hide-and-seek! And I - I - will be the first to hide. Seek me and whoever finds me first gets a prize! I guarantee you will have a hard time finding me - I intend to make it difficult for you. A hint – don’t look for me exactly since I will be in costume – hiding in plain sight!”
This announcement prompted laughter and applause and comments like “Tom, you spoil us so” and “Everything sounds like such fun!” Heyes and the Kid pretended to be as enthusiastic as everyone else but remained suspicious and observant.
When Heyes, the Kid and Harry Briscoe reached the third-floor landing, Heyes said, “Harry, you may as well arrest Ellwood. Those diamonds and burglar tools were in his safe. Someone could have been setting him up, but I doubt it. I think he’s the jewel thief.”
“It all fits in,” added the Kid. “This big house, the artwork, the money spent on the lavish party. He’s rich. He must rob rich people and then sell the stuff.”
“Yeeeees . . . “ Harry wasn’t convinced.
“It makes sense, Harry,” Heyes continued. “But we – you – were wrong about one thing. It isn’t one of the guests who’s planning on selling the jewels to Ellwood. It’s Ellwood who’s planning on selling the jewels to one of the guests!”
Briscoe got a rare idea. “Well, then, boys, that means that I have to find out who he wants to sell to. Buying stolen goods is a crime, too. I’ll have to catch him in the act. Then I’ll have the jewel thief, the jewel buyer, and the stolen jewels!” He puffed out his chest. “That’ll make me look mighty good back at Bannerman’s.”
Heyes rolled his eyes. “I suppose we’ll have to watch Ellwood closely from now on.”
But something kept them from being able to accomplish their chore.
PART 9
​
There just would be no way they would be able to keep an eye on the host during the evening meal. Ellwood already announced his intention to miss dinner to do who-knew-what, so he really would have free rein to do whatever he wanted. And Heyes, Curry and Briscoe had appeared in the solarium with everyone else that afternoon, so there would not be a chance to successfully fake another headache or stomach problem so they could follow him. They were stuck having to participate in a lavish dinner (a not particularly unattractive chore, according to Briscoe and the Kid), while Ellwood was running free. The only good thing, Heyes pointed out, was that if any of the guests was missing at dinner, then that might be the person who wanted to buy the jewels.
The three of them dressed for dinner and then convened in Briscoe’s room.
“Boys,” Briscoe pointed out, “The deal most likely will go down tonight. All these people gathered here will be a good cover if the jewels are traced to Ellwood. So we’ve got to be ready with a plan.”
“You got one?” asked the Kid.
“Me? Uh . . . well . . . no. Uh . . . not yet.”
Heyes rolled his eyes, the possibility occurring to him that his eyes get plenty of exercise whenever he’s involved with Harry Briscoe. “We’re agreed you should catch him in the act, Harry. We’ll have to go to dinner, but if someone excuses himself during the meal, you do the same a minute later and follow him. Or her. And – Harry? – use a different excuse.”
“Sure, sure, Heyes. Good idea. Hangnail should do it.”
Even the Kid rolled his eyes.
Heyes was in thinking mode now. “Ellwood said to stay out of the parlor - because it’s being decorated for the party, I suppose. But maybe that’s where he’s making the exchange.”
“Exchange?”
“Cash for jewels. The deal going down, to quote you. So if you have to follow someone, I suggest you start there. Don’t let them see you, of course. If no one’s there, try Ellwood’s room where the safe is.”
“Right! Um . . . right.”
“You got that, Harry? Make the arrest right then. It’s going to be more difficult for them (and us) if they wait until the party starts. Going to be lots of people doing lots of things – God only knows what he’s got planned – and there might not be an easy way to tail anyone then.”
“Right!”
“Got your gun, Harry?” asked the Kid.
“Of course I’ve got my gun, Kid,” Briscoe said, as he patted his pockets unsuccessfully. Finally he found it in an inside pocket of his dinner jacket. “See? I told you!” He pulled it out and pointed it at the Kid, who brushed it aside. “Try just to use it if you need it, Harry, OK?”
“And try to remember we’re on your side,” Heyes smirked.
Kid Curry changed the subject. “Heyes, who do you think is the buyer?”
Heyes shrugged. “Could be anyone, Kid.”
“Oh no – it couldn’t be Anne-Marie Argot. She’s too young.”
“She’s too young for a lot of things, but not for spending her husband’s money on jewels for herself!”
“Well, if that’s the case,” was the Kid’s response, “then the same goes double for Trudy Teagarden. Her husband’s lots
richer . . ."
“And we all saw those diamonds she was wearing when she first got here,” Briscoe added.
“I don’t see the women as buyers of stolen jewels. Unless they put their husbands up to it. That might be. You saw the look in Argot’s eyes when you looked at his wife, Kid – the man looked positively murderous. And Teagarden’s got so much money he could hire someone to kill for him.” Heyes shook his head. “And the man has minions . . .”
“How many diamonds are there, Heyes?” asked the Kid.
“A lot.”
“I have an itemized list . . . somewhere . . .” Briscoe started patting his pockets again.
“Never mind, Harry,” said Heyes. “And that Phil Hanson is another mystery. He’s got some kind of story behind that alleged wife of his who’s supposedly at home two hundred miles away.”
“Yeah, Prof. Argot looked at him the same way. They’re not friends, that’s for sure.”
“He’s not being honest about something. And he’s a friend of the host, and we already know that Ellwood is a thief. If Hanson knows about that side of him, maybe Hanson is the buyer.”
“And, Heyes, what about that Dutch guy – Beekhof? He’s plenty mysterious, all right. Always saying the right thing at the right time. And he knows English a little too well for someone who just came here from Dutchland a few years ago. And that story about his wife dying after they got here – baloney! I’ve seen how he looks at that actress Constance.”
“I never got the chance to question him,” Heyes mused.
“You thinking he’s planning on impressing her by getting her the diamonds, Heyes?” Briscoe inquired.
“I don’t know. It sure looked like he never met her until he got here, but the buy would have been set up before the party. The party weekend is probably planned to cover it, like Harry said.”
“Popular woman like that would be expensive to keep,” the Kid said.
“Yeah,” Heyes agreed. He ran his hands through his hair. “I just don’t know, though.”
For a few moments, nobody spoke. A combination of thoughtfulness and worry dominated, punctuated by fear (on Briscoe’s part). Soon they mutually agreed they had better be getting down to the dining room.
A moment later, a fantastic sight met three pairs of Spirit Squelcher eyes as Heyes, Curry and Briscoe entered the dining room. As usual, they were the last to arrive; all the guests – minus the host – were seated already. Everyone was in formal attire. The women’s gowns were brightly colored and festooned with sparkles (Heyes wondered just how many of those sparkles emanated from real diamonds). The men were dressed in either tuxedos or formal-looking suits. Even Wethersby and Maggie were very smartly attired in what probably passed as formal server wear.
But the table itself! All three Squelchers gasped a little at the spread before them. Barely an inch of tablecloth was showing! There were dishes everywhere, most with food already in them and the remainder clearly waiting their turns. Candles of several different heights and colors were interspersed amongst the dishes. Silverware abounded, turned every which way around the guests’ plates (according to the Kid). The centerpiece ran down the middle of the table, almost end to end, and it included every kind of greenery and flower possible at that time of year, as well as such exotic things as small gourds and bird feathers (pheasant, Heyes guessed).
The three of them were heartily welcomed by the rest of the group, some of whom had obviously been imbibing more than water. The chair at the host’s place had been removed, so they were forced to sit in the only three chairs available, unfortunately, thought Heyes and the Kid, next to each other. Heyes quickly chose the seat next to Constance Cornwell, forcing Briscoe and Curry to sit on the other side of him. The Teagardens flanked Miss Cornwell on her far side, and the remainder of the guests sat across the table. Heyes vaguely wondered why Aldert Beekhof did not sit next to Miss Cornwell.
Maggie had been attending to the guests with a chilled water pitcher which she held with a crisp white towel. Wethersby was standing formally nearby, and, after seating the three new guests, gave Maggie a signal to begin serving the first course. Wethersby himself, in his crisp white gloves, poured the wine.
From his vantage point at the middle of the seating, Heyes had a good view of almost everyone except Briscoe, which suited him. He engaged Miss Cornwell in conversation. Kid Curry, seated directly across from Anne-Marie Argot, did what he could to engage her in conversation, despite competition from Phil Hanson, who sat next to her. Briscoe, at the end of the table, tried to get Prof. Argot, across from him, fascinated in everything he had to say. An impossible task in the best of circumstances.
When the last glass of wine had been poured, Phil Hanson raised his glass and proposed a toast to their generous host. Everyone said things like “To Tom” and “Hear Hear” and Anne-Marie Argot added, “I could get used to living like this!” Aldert Beekhof chuckled.
Heyes knew that this would most likely be the final meal he would be enjoying at the expense of Thomas Ellwood. Since the jewels had been discovered, Briscoe would be arresting him and the weekend party would end abruptly. Hopefully the buyer of the jewels would also be discovered and arrested. The party would indeed be over.
Heyes hoped the buyer wouldn’t be Constance Cornwell. She was kind, well-mannered and well-spoken, and he liked her. Anne-Marie Argot was too young and frivolous for his taste. He found Trudy Teagarden, a few years older, more to his liking, even though she was dripping in diamonds she had the audacity to call fake. Heyes realized with a start he didn’t really like any of the men at the table. He had started developing a fondness for Tom Ellwood, but when he discovered Ellwood was a jewel thief, that ended. His sometimes herculean efforts to go straight were much too important for him to respect a thief who clearly lived royally on his take. This dislike extended to Ellwood’s friend Phil Hanson, by proximity if for no other reason. He had no use for linguistics professor Argot, whom he thought seemed a little too angry and yet forgiving over his wife’s flirtations. Trevor Teagarden, the businessman, was way too rich and unhumorous for his liking, and Heyes had the gut feeling the man was hiding secrets as well. And Heyes also did not like the Dutch man, Beekhof. He wasn’t sure why, but the Kid’s earlier comment that the man knew the language way too well for someone who had recently moved to this country kept nagging at him. And Briscoe! – well . . . enough said.
In fact, when Heyes thought about it, the only man at the table he liked and respected was Kid Curry. Heyes turned to his friend and said “Thank you.” The Kid just gave him a funny look and turned back to Anne-Marie Argot. She was talking about her latest hobby, knitting, and Kid Curry was overtly fascinated. The only word she used that interested Heyes was ‘pearling,’ but she didn’t seem to be using it with a jewelry meaning and he couldn’t work up enough interest in her silliness to even vaguely consider her a jewel thief’s accomplice.
During the sumptuous meal, which lasted over an hour, Hannibal Heyes tried to engage in conversation with every other dinner guest. His aim once again was to learn something – anything – that might lead to a suspicion or two. Everyone was in a good mood, even Prof. Argot and Mr. Teagarden, and Heyes’s questions for the most part fell on deaf ears. The dinner courses were just as Ellwood had described them, and each dish seemed more glorious than the last.
The three Spirit Squelchers did pay attention to anyone leaving the table, but, in fact, no one at all left during the meal. Heyes was disappointed because that meant the ‘buy’ would happen during the party, and would be more difficult for them to observe.
At the end of the dessert course, there was a small amount of table conversation about how wonderful the meal had been. Shortly thereafter, Wethersby, still in his crisp white gloves, opened the doors of the dining room that led to the large parlor. “Mr. Ellwood!” he said very loudly. “Your guests will be coming to find you now!” Clearly the signal for Ellwood to hide, if he wasn’t already hidden. The game had begun!
Mrs. Argot, not surprisingly, was the first to jump up. She grabbed her husband by the hand and dragged him behind her as she headed for the parlor and shouted, “Here we come, Tom! Ready or not!” Phil Hanson was right on her tail. Mr. Beekhof, ignoring Miss Cornwell, followed. The Teagardens followed him. Heyes stood and pulled Miss Cornwell’s chair out for her. “Thank you, Joshua,” she said graciously. As they headed, arm in arm, for the parlor, she added, “I have truly enjoyed our repartee this evening. You are a most enjoyable dinner companion.”
Kid Curry and Harry Briscoe were the last to leave the table. Briscoe grabbed the Kid by the sleeve to detain him. “What do you think?”
“What do you mean, Harry?”
“I didn’t see anyone leave. Did you?”
“No. No one left during dinner. That just means we’ll have to be keeping a close eye on everyone during the party.”
“Yeah. You know, Kid, I was thinking . . . “
“Oh-oh.”
“The exchange may not happen in Ellwood’s room with the safe. There might be some secret tunnels or something in this old house.”
“First of all, Harry, this isn’t an old house – it’s new. But Heyes and I already thought of the tunnel thing. He’s already looked for a secret tunnel or anything like that. He knows how to search for those things.”
“None, huh?”
“No, he was pretty sure about it.” The Kid grabbed his “boss’s” arm. “We better get in there so we can start watching the guests. Come on, Harry.”
Just then another translucent white apparition floated over their heads and melted into the fireplace.
PART 10
​
“How wonderful!” exclaimed Miss Cornwell on seeing the ornately decorated room, as she and Heyes entered the parlor. The lights had been dimmed, and numerous candles and jack-o-lanterns placed around the room gave off an eerie glow. Black paper spiders hung down on strings from the ceiling and several ghostly ‘statues’ made from broom handles draped in white sheets, with pumpkins for heads, stood in the corners of the room.
“Isn’t it?” smiled Heyes, a brief memory springing into his mind of Halloween nights shared with his family as a child. But he pushed it away and turned his concentration to the task at hand.
The other guests were busy looking under tables, inside dressers and behind curtains in a fruitless search for their host; so Heyes and Miss Cornwell also joined in, with Briscoe and the Kid joining them a few moments later.
One or two heavily decorated boxes had been left in the room and a sudden shriek from Mrs. Argot made them all jump when she opened one and a ghoulish jack-in-the-box sprang out at her. Recovering her composure, she laughed it off, which allowed the other guests to do the same.
Periodically, the lights would go down and apparitions could be seen appearing and disappearing through the walls and ceiling, to the oohs and aahs of the guests who had mostly accepted that they weren’t real but merely a trick generated by their host, although none had any idea how he was conjuring them up.
On not finding their host in the parlor, the guests moved on to search the smoking room, and then the solarium. Ellwood had told them he’d be in the parlor - yet he couldn’t be found.
Teagarden and Beekhof speculated that their host might perhaps have hidden himself somewhere outside and took themselves off to investigate, returning, some time later, wet and not having found a sign of him.
“Where on earth can he be?” said Mrs. Argot, a puzzled frown on her face.
“Can you give us any clues?” Mr. Teagarden asked Wethersby, who was hovering in the doorway of the solarium with a slightly amused look on his face.
“I don’t have any clue as to where Mr. Ellwood is hiding, and even if I did, I would not be at liberty to divulge such information,” Wethersby replied.
With a few exasperated rolls of eyes, the guests continued their search, each keen to be the person to find him and receive the prize he had promised to the winner.
Unnoticed by the other guests, Briscoe and the Kid had slipped away from the group to search other parts of the house.​
“Our host certainly knows how to throw a party,” Miss Cornwell said to Heyes, “I haven’t had this much fun in years.”
Heyes looked into her eyes, sparkling now with enjoyment, thinking that if she were a few years younger she would be someone he would like to get to know better. Then, dismissing the thought, he said, “Yes, it has been fun, hasn’t it?”
“Do you have any thoughts where he could be hiding?” she asked.
“Not really. One possibility – Wethersby, Maggie and the cook have been in and out of the kitchen all night, so that would be one place he wouldn’t be expected to be hiding with so many people in and out. But, what about the pantry? He could have slipped in there when the kitchen was empty and be hiding in plain sight, so to speak.”
“It’s a possibility.” Miss Cornwell nodded thoughtfully. “Certainly worth a look.”
“After you,” grinned Heyes, waving a hand towards the door.
Meanwhile, Briscoe had entered Ellwood’s study, after first listening at the door for any voices. The room appeared empty.
He stood, looking around him, thinking that there weren’t many places to hide in here - apart from, possibly, the heavy window drapes.
Quietly, he crept across to the window and then reached out to snatch the drapes away from the left side of the window. Nothing. He turned to cross to the other side of the window to check the drapes there and then stubbed his toe on the leg of the leather chair behind the desk.
Looking down, he saw that the chair was quite a way back from the desk. The last time he’d been in here the chair had been pushed under the desk as far as the arms would allow. He tried to push the chair under the desk, to give himself easier access to the drapes on the other side of the window, and then stopped, his cigar falling out of his mouth when he saw Thomas Ellwood face down on the floor, the top half of his body underneath the desk, the chair over the bottom half.
“Mr. Ellwood?” Lifting the chair out of the way, Briscoe got down on his knees at Ellwood’s side.
“Mr. Ellwood?” he repeated. On receiving no response, he placed two fingers to Ellwood’s neck to check for a pulse. He was shocked to realize that the man was dead! “Oh, my,” he muttered.
Getting to his feet, Briscoe rushed to the door and opened it, looking around for a sign of Kid Curry, who was nowhere to be seen.
Closing the study door behind him, he headed back down the corridor to where he could hear the voices of the other guests, hoping to find Heyes, but before he reached them he ran into Heyes and Miss Cornwell coming out of the kitchen.
“Ah . . . er . . . Joshua . . . I need a word with you . . . urgently,” he said, in his gravest voice. “In private,” he added. “Would you excuse us please?” he addressed Miss Cornwell.
“Of course.” Miss Cornwell inclined her head in acknowledgement.
“I’ll catch up with you later, Constance.” Heyes gave her a small bow.
Miss Cornwell headed back to join the other guests and Heyes turned towards Briscoe. “What is it, Harry?”
“You’ve got to see this,” said Briscoe agitatedly, heading back towards the study.
“See what?” whispered Heyes as Briscoe stopped outside the study door and looked nervously up and down the corridor to make sure none of the other guests were around.
Briscoe was just about to open the door when he saw the Kid coming up from the library, which was at the other end of the floor.
Signaling for him to come quickly, Briscoe opened the study door and went inside, Heyes behind him and the Kid bringing up the rear.
He moved to turn on the light, while Heyes looked at him exasperatedly, wondering what had the detective so riled.
“Look,” Briscoe said, moving to the desk and pointing.
Heyes and the Kid crossed to the desk and looked where Briscoe was pointing. On seeing Ellwood’s body, they exchanged glances before Heyes dropped to his knees to examine the body.
“He’s been hit in the head with a blunt instrument, same as you were,” he looked at the Kid,“ so I’d guess whoever hit you did this too. Only Ellwood wasn’t as lucky as you.”
“But who could it be?” said the Kid. “Nobody left the dining room during dinner.”
“No, they didn’t,” agreed Heyes, “but this looks real recent.”
“Presumably, whoever he was going to sell the diamonds to, objected to paying for them?”
Heyes nodded. “So it would seem.”
“The question is, was the deal completed before the murder, or could there have been a dispute - over the price or something, that made Ellwood refuse to hand them over - causing the buyer to kill him?”
“Only one way to find out,” said Heyes. Turning to Briscoe he said, “Wedge the chair under the door handle, so if any of the guests try the door they’ll think it’s locked.”
Briscoe nodded and carried the chair over to the door while Heyes pulled the sofa away from the wall and stepped behind it to unlatch the painting.
“O.K?” Heyes looked at Briscoe, checking that the door was wedged closed. Briscoe nodded.
Heyes turned his attention to the safe and moments later the door swung open.
After rummaging around in the safe for some moments, he turned to face the others. “They’re still here,” he said. Kid Curry breathed a sigh of relief and Harry Briscoe dropped to his knees. Heyes once again shut the safe door.
The former outlaws exchanged anxious glances. With their host dead and his killer on the loose, their chances of getting off this island alive and in one piece were beginning to look decidedly slim, and of getting paid for this fiasco virtually nil.
PART 11
​
“All right, let me get this straight,” Kid Curry said with a frustrated sigh.
Heyes nodded. “OK.”
“There’s a murderer running around in this house somewhere, and we don’t know who it is.”
“Yup.”
“He’s murdered a famous jewel thief who’s wanted by the law.”
“Yup.”
“We’re marooned on this island because the boat is missing
“Yup.”
“There’s a howling rainstorm outside.”
“Yup.”
“It’s Halloween night.”
“Yup.”
“And this place is haunted.”
“Ummm . . . can’t give you that one. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“No such thing as ghosts?! How do you explain . . . Oh, never mind. Just exactly what are we going to do now?”
Heyes pointed toward Briscoe, who was sitting on the floor near the body and looking like he was going to cry. “For one thing, we’d better take a look at Harry.”
They both knelt down by Briscoe. “What’s wrong, Harry? I didn’t know you liked Ellwood that much,” said the Kid.
Briscoe didn’t seem to know they were there. He was in some kind of trance, repeating, “The Bannermans will kill me” over and over.
Heyes rolled his eyes. Again. “Harry, they won’t do anything like that. You found the jewel thief! And the jewels! I mean, what’s a little detail like the thief getting himself murdered . . . “
Briscoe groaned. “It’s over for me. I’m done for.”
“Stop it, Harry! We’ll give them the body. Maybe they’ll be happy with that!”
“My fault. They’ll think it’s my fault. They always think it’s my fault . . .”
Heyes and the Kid exchanged an exasperated look. “Oh, well . . .” said Heyes as he shrugged his shoulders. He slapped Harry’s face, finding it so satisfactory he considered doing it a second time.
“Hey!” The detective came back to life. “What’s the big idea?!”
“I’m glad you’re not Kid Curry, or I’d be dead by now.”
“Just who do you think you’re hitting anyhow?” Briscoe asked angrily.
“A Bannerman man,” Heyes answered, “and I think you’d like to keep it that way.”
Briscoe sighed and looked down. “Yeah. I guess. Yeah, of course I do. Thanks, guys. I didn’t know . . . this is a catastrophe, you know! Ellwood’s dead!”
“We know, Harry.”
“Now we can’t question him or anything! Ellwood’s dead!”
“We know, Harry!”
“He can’t tell us anything now! He can’t even tell us who killed him!”
“Few people can,” Kid Curry said so softly and so philosophically that both Heyes and Briscoe turned to look at him.
After a moment, Briscoe said, “Well, guys, now what do we do?”
“At this point,” Heyes answered, “I think any good detective would give up being a Spirit Squelcher or a banker or whatever the hell else he’s claiming to be, and gather all the guests and staff together and question them and arrest someone!”
“That’s exactly what I was going to say!” And Briscoe jumped up and indicated for his fellow “detectives” to follow him. Heyes rolled his eyes once again.
* * *
​
The three of them entered the parlor through the far door, closing and locking it behind them. Briscoe pocketed the key. Other than the windows, there was only one method of leaving the parlor now – the doors leading to the dining room and the winter kitchen beyond. Heyes positioned himself near the windows and Briscoe and Curry stood near the dining room doors.
At this point, the lights were low and the room was lit merely by dozens of candles, all of them flickering and creating eerie shadows as the guests moved around. The party was still going strong. The smell of cinnamon and delicious foods filled the air. Liquor was flowing, laughter was rampant and there were several little conversational groups, most of whom were discussing where the host could possibly have hidden.
Wethersby entered the room from the kitchen at this point and Briscoe spoke briefly with him. Briscoe then went to the kitchen, while Wethersby stayed to turn the gas room lights up high. Everyone looked expectantly around.
In a moment, Briscoe returned with Maggie as well as a new man. Briscoe held up his hands and said loudly, “Can I have everyone’s attention, please."
Everyone kept on chattering happily.
“Can everyone stop talking for a minute! Quiet, please!”
Heyes rolled his eyes. He whistled loudly. Conversations ended and all eyes turned to him. He nodded toward Briscoe, and suddenly all eyes were on Briscoe.
“Uh, thank you, Hey . . . uh, Smith. I need to have a talk with everyone in this house. Would everyone please find a seat?”
There was a murmur in the crowd and Trudy Teagarden asked, “What’s going on, Harry?”
Briscoe indicated the chairs. “Just . . . sit down. Just everyone sit down.” Apparently he looked somber enough to be taken seriously, and everyone found places to sit.
Briscoe’s fingers waved over the crowd as he counted. “Okay, good, everyone’s here. Ten of us plus the servants.”
“There are eleven of us,” Trevor Teagarden pointed out. “But our host is still hiding. We’ve looked everywhere for him. We’ve given up.
”
“Uh, yeah, that’s what I want to talk to you about,” Harry said hesitantly. “Tom Ellwood’s not really missing. I know where he is.”
“Oh, do please tell us!” Mrs. Argot said excitedly. “We’ve all been searching and searching . . .”
“He said he’d be costumed,” Mr. Teagarden added. “But we’ve been unable to find him. What costume is he wearing?”
Briscoe hesitated for a moment. He’d mentally prepared a little speech in his mind but never expected to be asked this question. The fact was he had never even noticed what Ellwood’s costume was. Some detective! He cleared his throat.
“Well . . .”
“Ellwood’s costume is a black cape with a hood,” Heyes interrupted. “When someone got close to him, his intention might have been to hide in the shadows.”
“Might have been?” Constance Cornwell did not miss the past tense reference to her host.
Apparently Briscoe regained his confidence. “I have some bad news for you all,” he said almost confidently. “The fact is . . . Thomas Ellwood is dead!”
All three Spirit Squelchers paid strict attention to the reactions of the guests. Gasps abounded all around, and there were some hands to bosoms and some mild swear words, but basically there was not one single person there who did not express genuine surprise. Briscoe figured he had his work cut out for him. After a respectable moment he added, “Ellwood didn’t just die – he was murdered!”
More gasps and this time some crowd murmuring could be heard. Prof. Argot put his arm around his young wife, who had suddenly paled.
“He was hit on the head,” Briscoe continued, pleased as punch that a crowd was paying attention to him for once, “with a blunt instrument. The murder weapon has not been found yet.”
“Where did this happen? When?” asked Mr. Teagarden.
“It happened just a few minutes ago, judging by the warmth of the body. Unknown where, but the body was found in Mr. Ellwood’s den. The murder could have been committed elsewhere and the body forcibly dragged . . .” He discontinued talking when he noticed Trudy Teagarden looking pale enough to pass out. “Well, anyhow, he’s dead as a doornail.”
Heyes cleared his throat. “What Harry means is that this was a suspicious . . . uh . . . passing. That’s all he’s trying to say.”
Briscoe cleared his throat, too. “That’s right. And now is a good time to let you know that you’re all suspects in this murder! No one’s leaving this place for a while. You’re all suspects. The party’s over.”
Now the murmuring turned into fairly loud banter as the crowd generally objected. Mr. Teagarden seemed to be objecting the loudest. “And who exactly are you to be telling us what we can and cannot do, Briscoe?”
“I’m not a banker. I’m a Bannerman detective,” Briscoe said with more than a hint of smugness. “I’m a Bannerman man.”
Sudden quiet. Then Prof. Argot said, “And Joshua and Thaddeus – are they detectives from the Bannerman Agency as well?”
Briscoe looked at Heyes and Curry, and Heyes and Curry looked at each other and then back at him. Then Briscoe said with confidence, “Joshua and Thaddeus are my partners.” Heyes was inexplicably proud of Briscoe for a moment, and hoped this moment would pass.
“Well, this whole thing is preposterous!” boomed Mr. Teagarden. “You look like bankers to me! I don’t believe you’re detectives at all!” There was a loud murmuring, mostly of consensus.
“Don’t you worry, Mr. Teagarden. I’m a detective, all right.”
“I never worry! Show us your badge!”
Harry patted his pockets. “Um . . . I think I left it upstairs in my . . . or . . . I might have left it at home. Yeah, I think I left it at home.” Technically, this would be true only if Harry lived at the Bannerman Detective Agency, since they had stripped him of his badge when they fired him.
Heyes held out his hands. “Now stop it, everyone! Just relax! I can tell you with certainty that Harry Briscoe has been a detective with the Bannerman Detective Agency for many years!” His voice held authority and everyone stopped talking for a moment.
Then Constance Cornwell spoke. She seldom spoke but when she did, everyone listened. She was a stage actress, after all, and knew how to use her voice to command an audience. But this time she spoke quietly – softly, but with authority. “I believe you, Joshua.”
A hush fell over the crowd.
Mr. Beekhof looked at Miss Cornwell for a moment, then he said, “Ja, if you say so, I believe him, too.” Miss Cornwell smiled at him shyly.
Mrs. Teagarden looked at her husband and they nodded to each other. She said, “My husband and I are prepared to believe he is a detective as well.” And then suddenly everyone believed Harry Briscoe was an actual detective!
Anne-Marie Argot enthused, “A real detective! And a real murder! What a Halloween!” Her husband pulled her closer, effectively shutting her up. “What do you want of us?” he asked Briscoe.
“You might as well get comfortable,” Briscoe continued. “I’ve got some questions to ask you.”
Trevor Teagarden piped up, “I’ve got some questions for you!”
“Shoot! Well . . . not literally.”
“First off, who is that?!” Aldert Beekhof pointed to the new man who had come in with Briscoe and Maggie.
The man glanced at Briscoe before responding. “I am your chef. I have been preparing your meals.”
“This is Cookie . . . “ Briscoe started to introduce, but his voice was drowned in the sudden outpouring of praises for the chef from everyone present. Cookie was well-rounded, in humility as well as girth, and he gratefully accepted the compliments and answered culinary questions.
Briscoe was once more losing his audience. He looked longingly at Heyes, who was laughing. But once Heyes whistled loudly again, everyone quieted down.
“All right now, let’s keep some control,” Briscoe said loudly, hoping for the best. “Now we’re going to start out by finding out where everyone was for the last half hour.
The crowd all exchanged glances. Mr. Teagarden spoke for all of them. “For the last half hour we were here, Briscoe! Right in this room! We looked for Tom and couldn’t find him, so we all gave up. Since then, we’ve just been eating and drinking and enjoying ourselves.”
“Oh, that’s right,” said Briscoe quietly.
“Of course, I was in the kitchen. Preparing foods,” Cookie piped up.
“Ah ha! You say you were in the kitchen! Can you prove that! Did anyone else see you in that kitchen?!”
Maggie spoke up. “I did. And Mr. Wethersby. We have been traveling back and forth from the kitchen to the party room all day. First to decorate the parlor for the party, and then, to deliver drinks and foods to the guests as the party started.”
“This is quite true, Mr. Briscoe,” Wethersby said. “There are only three staff members in the house at this time, and we have been in sight of each other for the entire day, with only momentary lapses of time to make deliveries to the parlor. In addition, at Mr. Ellwood’s bidding, I have been the one to dim and raise the lights during the party. It was Mr. Ellwood’s suggestion that I place ghost-shaped stencils in front of the light fixtures and move them around to make it appear that ghosts were part of the ensemble. I moved from one light fixture to another to make the ghosts appear more real.”
“Oh, and they did!” Anne-Marie Argot gushed.
“Well,” Briscoe said to the guests, “Looking more and more like it’s one of you who killed Ellwood then, isn’t it? The boat is missing, and look at that storm! It’s still howling and raining and if there was a third party who entered from outside, we would have heard some kind of noise when the storm rushed in. . . “
​
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Wethersby interjected, “but as the storm was approaching, I took the precaution of locking all the doors and securely latching all the windows in the house – from the inside! Mr. Ellwood asked me to do so.”
Briscoe took his cigar from his mouth. “And why exactly would he do that?”
Wethersby did the butler equivalent of shrugging. “I’m sure I don’t know, sir. He did mention something about the storm looking like it could blow a gale, but we’ve not had a problem with weather weakening the structure before.”
“Ah ha!” Briscoe expostulated. “All the windows and doors were locked from the inside! No one could have come in since the storm started!” He pointed his cigar at the crowd. “There’s proof it had to be one of you!”
“Hold on there, Briscoe,” said Mr. Teagarden. “How do we know all the windows and doors are locked from the inside now? Maybe one got overlooked! Or anything could have happened! If the murderer left the house after the murder, then he wouldn’t be with us now, would he? Plus his exit way would be unlocked. I suggest you check the entire house for something that’s not secured.”
“Hmmm . . . “ said Briscoe.
Kid Curry was still standing next to him. “I’ll go check everything, Harry,” he said. “You keep on doing . . . whatever you’re doing.”
As the Kid left the room, Briscoe looked after him and said, “There goes a fine young man. A fine . . .”
“What the hell else do you want to know, Briscoe?” Mr. Teagarden asked in irritation.
“Wellllllll, now . . .” Briscoe puffed slowly on his cigar slowly before removing it and studying it. Suddenly he turned to the crowd and yelled, “Which one of you killed Tom Ellwood?!”
The crowd was silent. Heyes rolled his eyes.
* * *
​
Kid Curry, in a much more logical frame of mind than his “boss,” decided the place to begin looking for any unlocked apertures would be the room where the body was found. Having spent some time with the guests, he wasn’t as convinced as Briscoe that one of them was the murderer. He headed for the den, making sure to be as quiet as possible. Just in case someone else was hiding within the house, he hoped to have the element of surprise on his side.
He checked all the rooms along the way, but no unlocked windows existed. When he came to the den, the door was ajar. He knew for certain that they had shut the door when they’d left the room a few minutes earlier. He very quietly pushed the door open just enough to be able to see inside the room.
The first thing he saw was, of course, Ellwood’s body. Pushing any emotion associated with fond memories of his host to the back of his mind, the Kid looked further.
They had left a lamp burning. As his eyes scanned the large room, he thought he saw a small movement in the semi-darkness. Near the safe.
He was right! He could see the back of a man, a man who was apparently trying to open the safe. He was using the same technique Heyes used, holding his ear close to the safe, and he didn’t seem to be aware of Curry.
The Kid swung the door open and stepped into the room. Surprised, the man turned to look at him. He stood quickly and drew his gun on the Kid.
But, of course, Kid Curry was Kid Curry and the man didn’t have a chance. The man’s gun hadn’t even cleared his holster when he found himself staring at the business end of the Kid’s gun.
“Drop it!” the Kid commanded. Once he heard the gun hit the floor, he continued, “Now step out of the shadow so I can see you.”
“Whatever you say,” said Phil Hanson, as he took a couple steps closer to the Kid. “In my business, I’ve always found it prudent not to argue with anyone who can draw like that.”
The Kid was very, very surprised to see that the attempted safecracker was one of their crowd. And Phil Hanson, of all people! The Kid thought him amiable and a people-person. Why on earth would he be trying to break into his best friend’s safe?
It was difficult, but the Kid kept his expression even. “That’s pretty low, Phil, robbing your friend.” He motioned with his gun for his detainee to sit.
As Hanson gingerly stepped over the body to get to a chair, he said, “I’m not technically robbing him. There’s something that belongs to me in that safe, and I want it back.”
The Kid nodded at Ellwood’s body. “Looks like he might have disagreed with you on that point.”
Hanson shrugged. “He caught me, too. Thought he could stop me. But he wasn’t quite as fast as you,” he laughed. “I not only had time to pull my gun, I had time to hit him over the head with it!”
“You killed him!”
Hanson shrugged again. “Occupational hazard. He always knew that. Really, though, I just intended to get him out of my way for a few minutes. Too bad he’s dead; we’ve known each other for years. Oh, well . . .”
The Kid saw no remorse whatsoever. It took all his willpower to keep his cool, but he managed. “What do you mean – occupational hazard?”
Hanson settled back into the chair and smiled. “We’re thieves, my friend. Thieves. Does that surprise you? Some of the largest art and jewelry heists in Europe and the East Coast of the United States were planned and perpetrated by either Tom or myself. We never worked together. We may have been friends, but we were also competitors!”
The Kid wanted to point out that friends normally don’t rob and murder friends, but he wisely chose to continue questioning. “And I’m guessing you think a recent heist of his should have been ‘perpetrated’ by you instead? So you argued. And . . .” he pointed to the body . . . “this was the result.”
“Very good, my friend. That dimwit boss of yours could learn a thing or two from you. He’s about the most inept detective I’ve ever seen. I hope he doesn’t, though, he’s much more entertaining the way he is. Yes, I know you’re detectives,” he added, on seeing Curry’s slightly surprised expression, “I overheard you talking, in the hall, the day you arrived. Tom told me he hired you to find ghosts, but there’s no such thing as ghosts. He was an idiot on that point.”
Kid Curry was well acquainted with robberies. He was also acquainted with ‘friends’ who turned into competitors in certain circumstances. But this situation took things to a whole new level. He took a moment to think before phrasing his next question. “What’s in the safe, Phil?”
“I told you – what’s rightfully mine. Tom knew I was planning that heist and he got there first, the cad.”
“And that would be . . . ?”
“None of your business. Respectfully, of course.”
“A half a million in diamonds?”
​
This clearly stunned Hanson. “Say, you are good! Yes, indeed – the Grimaldi Diamonds.” He shrugged and became smug again. “But it’s a moot point, for the time being anyhow. Tom’s dead, and no one besides me can open that safe. It might take me as much as an hour or two to get away from that inept boss of yours. The diamonds’ll keep until then.”
Kid Curry sighed. He motioned with the gun. “All right, let’s go. Back to the parlor. I’m turning you over to him.”
Hanson left the room with him. “I’m surprised he didn’t notice I wasn’t at the party. No, maybe I’m not surprised. I’ll bet he used his fingers to count and there are eleven of us.”
By God, he was right!
​
* * *
But not entirely right. When Phil Hanson appeared in the parlor at the point of Thaddeus Jones’s gun, no one was more surprised to see them than Harry Briscoe. His mouth hung open and he was in serious danger of losing his cigar.
“Where’d he come from? Hanson! I thought he was right here with us!”
“No, Harry,” said the Kid. “When you counted the number of people, you forgot that the cook was a new addition and you counted him, too. Phil wasn’t here. At all. He was in the same room as the body.” He had been going to say trying to open the safe to get at the diamonds, but he glanced at Heyes, who was shaking his head ‘no.’ The Kid finished by saying, “He confessed to me that he murdered our host.”
The reaction to this statement was a crowd’s voice of surprise and general consternation. Briscoe said, “Well, I’ll be . . . “ Wethersby put his arm around Maggie. Aldert Beekhof seemed the most distressed of anyone, but the Kid remembered how Tom Ellwood had befriended him around the time his wife was dying, so Beekhof may have thought of him the kindliest of anyone.
Kid Curry pushed his prisoner toward the detective and said, “Harry, use your handcuffs.” Briscoe started patting all his pockets.
Heyes rolled his eyes.
PART 12
​
The first glow of dawn was just beginning in the east, turning the sky from inky black to violet.
Briscoe, Heyes and Curry were gathered on the patio, enjoying the fresh air left behind by the now departed storm, the rest of the guests having only recently retired to their beds following the evening’s shenanigans.
“Well, Harry, I’d say Mr. Bannerman will be more than satisfied with the outcome of this affair,” said Heyes. “We found the diamonds, two thieves and a murderer. If that doesn’t get you your job back, I don’t know what will.”
“It certainly will,” said Briscoe, patting the pocket of his jacket where the bag of diamonds that Heyes had retrieved from the safe were securely concealed. “And with a promotion too, I hope.” He puffed on his cigar, contemplating his re-admittance to the Bannerman Detective Agency. “I know I haven’t always trodden the path of righteousness,” he continued presently, causing Heyes and the Kid to exchange amused glances, “and that I’ve tried to use your identities against you in the past, but, boys, I swear that’ll never happen again. I could never have solved this case without your help. I owe you both a debt of gratitude.”
“No, you owe us three hundred dollars,” Heyes cut in.
“Apiece,” the Kid added in his most menacing tone.
“Oh . . . er . . . yes . . . of course . . . as soon as we get back to shore,” Briscoe huffed and puffed.
“Well, that won’t be long. Trevor Teagarden said that Ellwood arranged for a boat to collect us all at noon today,” said Heyes, eyeing the rapidly approaching dawn. Suddenly remembering something funny, he told his partner, “I don’t know if you know this or not, Kid, but Anne-Marie thought you should get the prize for finding the host!” They all laughed for a moment, then fell silent again. The east was so beautiful this time of day.
“You know,” Heyes continued a few moments later, “I never pegged Hanson as a jewel thief. I suspected Beekhof and Argot, Teagarden, even you at one point,” he looked at Briscoe, who looked insulted, “but not Hanson.”
“Me neither,” agreed the Kid. “He seemed the most unlikely of all of them. He must have been surprised when I turned up for dinner after he hit me and left me for dead, but I didn’t read it in his face. But I wasn’t surprised when he admitted he really didn’t have a wife and children. He didn’t seem the type.”
“I wonder if Hanson plays poker?” Heyes mused. “If he doesn’t, he ought to. He’s got a hell of a poker face. And, Kid, I’ve been thinking about what he said to you about knowing we were detectives. He must have realized we were on Ellwood’s trail and probably hoped to be able to get to the diamonds before we did, and get away scot free, leaving his friend to his fate. But then, when you saw him in the grounds, he must have started to worry we might be onto him and that’s why he tried to kill you. He probably intended on getting rid of all three of us.”
“Yeah, I think so, too. And he admitted it was him who sunk the boat, too, and was planning to use a little rowboat to make his escape once he’d got the diamonds,” said the Kid.
“Well, there’ll be no escape for him now,” said Briscoe. “If he doesn’t go to the gallows for killing Ellwood, he’ll spend a very long time behind bars.”
They fell silent for a moment as they each contemplated the events of the past few days, before the Kid said, “Well, it’s certainly been an eventful few days, but I for one will be glad to see the back of this place.”
“It has been eventful,” agreed Heyes.
Briscoe nodded. “Downright spooky.”
Heyes laughed. “Oh, come on, Harry, you don’t believe all that ghost stuff, do you? That was all down to Wethersby, fooling around with the lights and creating ghostly images through stencils.”
“What about the unseen force that made me write in the soot on the mirror?” said the Kid. “Wethersby couldn’t have been responsible for that.”
“What unseen force?” Briscoe asked now, looking nervously around him.
“I don’t know, Kid. It must have been some other pre-prepared trick, maybe using magnetism or something, but it certainly wasn’t any ghost. There’s no such thing as gh--“ Heyes broke off as the Kid suddenly grabbed his forearm. Turning to look at his partner, Heyes was surprised to see him looking at the house, stupefied.
​
Kid Curry pointed towards one of the upstairs windows. Heyes and Briscoe turned to see what had drawn his attention - a full length apparition at the window!
Heyes did a double take, and Briscoe’s cigar fell from his mouth in shock.
As if sensing their gaze, the apparition waved at them before disappearing as suddenly as it appeared.
For several moments the three men stood, transfixed, barely able to take in what they’d seen. Then, slowly, open-mouthed, they turned to look at each other, their expressions incredulous.
“Did I just see what I think I saw…?” gasped Kid Curry
“I… I… I…” stuttered a white faced Briscoe.
Heyes shook his head. “Must have been a trick of the light.” he said, somewhat uncertainly.
The three of them turned towards the east, where the sun had just peeked above the horizon.
“Yeah, just the sun reflecting on the glass…” Curry acknowledged, doubtfully.
“Had to be. There aint no such thing as ghosts.” Heyes said, confidently.
But, as the three Spirit Squelchers stood watching the sunrise, none of them were really sure.
​
--oo00oo--
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