Espiritu

by goldieasj

Comedy abounds when hapless Harry Briscoe calls on the guys to help him get his job back – again! They'll need to keep their wits about them when the so-called "easy job" threatens to get them murdered in a haunted house! A Halloween murder-mystery collaboration by Eleanor Ward and goldieasj.

ESPIRITU

By Eleanor Ward and Goldieasj

PART 1

It was Harry Briscoe, all right. No mistaking the cheesy mustache, slovenly clothes or beady eyes. The Bannerman Detective Agency's worst detective was apparently on the loose again.

"What do you suppose he wants this time?" Kid Curry whispered to his friend Hannibal Heyes.

"Probably wants someone to tell him what state he's in," Heyes whispered back.

"He's always in a state of confusion," the Kid quipped with a smile.

Heyes would have chuckled at his partner's little joke but the apparently unavoidable prospect of meeting up with Harry Briscoe soured his mood. "Damn him, anyhow! Just when I manage to forget he exists, he always turns up again!"

"Want me to kill him for you?" The Kid fingered his gun.

The small joke hit its target. Heyes smiled a little. "Yeah. Would ya?" He put his hand on his partner's shoulder. "Well, let's go get this over with."

Briscoe was by this time only a couple yards away from them, so they stepped out from their hiding place and faced him. "Boo!" said Heyes.

Completely surprised, Briscoe dropped his gun and backpedaled a few steps, almost falling into a horse trough. Heyes quickly grabbed his arm to save Briscoe from his watery fate, silently chastising himself.

Kid Curry picked up Detective Briscoe's gun and handed it back to him. "You might actually need this someday," he quipped.

"Well, if it isn't my old friends Smith and Jones! What a surprise meeting you guys here!" Briscoe said unconvincingly.

Heyes rolled his eyes. "You've been tailing us for a while, Harry. The only surprise is when we jumped out at you."

"Oh, have I?" Briscoe said nervously. "Ha ha. Well . . . . OK, you got me there."

"What do you want, Harry?" asked the Kid threateningly.

Briscoe looked back and forth between them and then took out a cigar. An obvious stall for time.

"We know you want something, Harry. You always do."

Briscoe patted his pockets, ostensibly searching for a match. Heyes struck a match on Briscoe's gun and held it in front of his cigar. "Oh . . . um . . . thanks, Heyes," Briscoe said nervously as he puffed to get his cigar going.

"Out with it, Harry," threatened Kid Curry.

When Briscoe didn't say anything, Heyes said, "Now! Or we walk!"

"All right, all right, Heyes! I've been kinda . . . looking for you fellas . . . to offer you a job."

"What kind of job?"

"Easy job, real easy job. Big money, too!"

"Bannerman Detective Agency fire you again, Harry? They looking for a replacement?" Both Heyes and the Kid laughed at that.

Briscoe looked hurt. But not for long. "Oh, ha. As a matter of fact . . ." Here his chest puffed out quite a bit. " . . . They have entrusted me with an important job right now. A verrrrrrry important job!"

"Yeah," said Heyes. "Sounds like the kind of job you're going to want to tell us about while you buy us dinner and drinks."

"Um . . . OK, sure, fellas." Heyes and the Kid shoved Briscoe in the direction of the closest restaurant and Briscoe, realizing he was outnumbered even had there only been one of them, reluctantly led the way.

Once the food was safely in front of them and they had checked Briscoe's wallet to make sure there was money in it, Heyes and Curry felt it was safe to eat. And listen to Briscoe talk.

"Now, boys," Briscoe said, waving his fork at them, "what I have to tell you is absolutely secret! A lot of money is involved here, and if news of this got out, I shudder to think . . . " he shuddered for emphasis, "well, I just shudder to think what could happen! A major crime has already been committed, and . . ."

"How much money?" Heyes asked. Neither he nor his partner had heard anything after 'a lot of money.'

Briscoe leaned forward and lowered his voice. "How does half a million dollars in diamonds sound?"

The Kid whistled and leaned forward. "What's our percentage?"

Briscoe looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"What's our percentage, Harry?" said Heyes. "How many of those diamonds will be ours?"

"No, no, no! Those aren't my diamonds, or your diamonds. They belong to a man out East. A big man with a lot of money, and a lot of power. And he's a friend of Mr. Bannerman and they won't even tell me his name. Boys, you don't understand. Those were his diamonds and someone stole them from him."

The Kid sat back, no longer interested. But Heyes was curious. "Who stole them, Harry?"

"Mr. Bannerman has information that makes him believe they were stolen by a professional jewel thief, a Mr. Vernon Lawless. Although we have no information on that name. Could be an alias."

Heyes rolled his eyes. "You think?"

"But one thing Mr. Bannerman believes for sure is that the jewel thief, whatever his name is, is headed out west. With the jewels!"

"Big country," said the Kid uninterestedly.

"Not so's you think," Briscoe slyly said. "Some verrrrrrry good detective work . . ."

"Done by someone else," Heyes interjected, and the Kid laughed.

" . . . indicates that there is a big Halloween party going to be thrown by a very rich man who lives not too far from here, and that same source of information says that Mr. Jewel Thief has managed to get himself an invitation to this party. Most likely to use this opportunity to try to sell these stolen gems to the rich party host or one of the guests."

"And you've managed to finagle yourself an invitation to this party, too, right, Harry? And you're going to be a hero and find the jewel thief and the jewels before he has a chance to offer them for sale, right, Harry? And exactly how do we fit into this perfect little picture?"

"I want the two of you to come along as my assistants. Kind of my backup."

"We're not detectives, Harry," the Kid said flatly.

"No no no! I'm not going there as a detective!"

"Now that makes sense," Heyes said, and he and the Kid giggled.

Briscoe either ignored their jibe, or, more likely, missed it. "I'm going in as a spirit hunter! This guy has this big house, see? And he thinks it's haunted. I'm coming in as a professional ghost finder! I've even got a name for my company, Spirit Squelchers!" He sat back and beamed with self-importance.

They both stared at him open-mouthed. Finally Heyes said, "You're kidding."

"No! Pretty good, huh? And you two are coming along as my assistants. Kid, you can be Thaddeus from Spirit Squelchers and Heyes, you will be Joshua from Spirit Squelchers. How's that?"

"And what exactly are we supposed to be doing as spirit . . . whatevers?" the Kid asked.

"Detective work, of course! Spirit Squelchers is just our cover. We'll really be detectives!"

"I told you, Harry, we're not detectives and we're not interested."

"You'll be interested when I tell you that you know the guy!"

But really they weren't. "What guy, Harry?" they asked in unison.

"Why, the thief, of course! He'll be a party guest. I need you to come along to identify him for me!"

Heyes and the Kid looked at each other. "Harry, we don't know anyone named Vernon Lawless, and, for that matter, we don't know any jewel thieves. We were strictly banks and trains," Heyes pointed out.

Briscoe was crestfallen. "You don't know him? But he's a jewel thief!"

"Then you should know him, not us. Good-bye, Harry." And they stood to leave.

"Oh, come on now, boys. I told you I'd pay you!"

"What's your idea of 'pay'?"

"For one thing, you'll be staying in this mansion. Good food, people waiting on you. Maybe make some good connections to use in your new lives."

"Pay, Harry?"

"How does fifty dollars apiece sound?!" Briscoe tried to sound enthusiastic.

"Like it's time to leave. See ya, Harry," said Heyes, and he and the Kid started to walk away.

"Sit back down," Briscoe sneered. "You're not going anywhere." His voice suddenly turned sinister, and Heyes and the Kid looked at each other. Kid Curry removed the safety from his gun.

Minisculely intrigued, Heyes sat down again. "You've got one minute, Harry. Explain yourself."

Briscoe lowered his voice so they could barely hear. "You're forgetting I know exactly who the two of you are, Heyes. That information is worth a lot of money to me, you know. I don't owe you any more favors, either. Now you do this tiny little favor for me, and I'll forget all about who you two really are!" Briscoe leaned smugly back in his chair and attempted to re-light his cigar.

Heyes and Curry exchanged looks. "That sounds suspiciously like a threat to me; how about you, Kid?"

Curry nodded. "Yeah. And after all the times we've helped him out, and saved his sorry hide, instead of turning him over to the law like we should've."

"Now, boys . . . " Briscoe began.

"We don't like being threatened, Harry," Heyes said darkly. "Not by anyone, not by anyone who wants a favor from us, and especially not by you!" His dark eyes bore into Briscoe's. "If I were you, I'd think twice before threatening us again – and I mean ever again – or you'll have to answer to my partner." Heyes nodded in the direction of the Kid, who pulled out his gun and twirled it a few times before aiming it at Briscoe.

This threat rattled the detective so badly his chair came crashing down and he dropped his match on the table. Heyes put out the flame with his gloved hand. "Do we understand each other, Harry?" As a reinforcement to the threat, the Kid sat back down and leaned forward. "Harry?"

"Uh, yeah, Kid, sure, I . . . uh . . . uh . . . I was only kidding, you know! Ha ha!"

"We're not, Harry," Curry said menacingly.

"All right," said Heyes, "Just so's we understand each other. Now, Harry, with that understanding, my friend and I have decided to take you up on your offer. For three hundred dollars apiece."

"Three hundred?! Uh . . . oh . . . okay, three hundred apiece." Briscoe started moving his fingers like he was counting on them.

"And," Heyes continued, "you pay any expenses, like the stage to get there or whatever."

"Huh? Oh, sure, sure . . ."

"And, we get half the reward money!"

Heyes expected Briscoe to blow up at that last statement and he was ready, but Briscoe merely looked contrite. "I'm sorry, boys, but there's not going to be any reward money."

The Kid started. "What are you talking about, Briscoe!? Half a million in diamonds and you recover them and there's no reward? Who are you trying to kid?"

But Briscoe looked sincerely apologetic. "I'm sorry, real sorry, but it's God's truth. There just isn't a reward this time!"

Heyes was still suspicious. "There's always a reward. Even though it's your job."

Briscoe looked down. "Well, that's sort-of it, Heyes. Bannerman Detectives sort-of . . . uh . . . well, they fired me again. But Mr. Bannerman said that if I solve this case, I can have my old job back!" He looked up. "And I want my old job back, boys. Real bad! I was real good!"

Heyes and the Kid looked at each other for a long moment. Heyes sighed. "Why am I always a soft touch around you, Harry? Am I loco or something?"

"Must be," said the Kid. "But so am I. Harry, we'll still do it. But if it turns out that there is a reward, you'll be sharing it with us equally."

Briscoe smiled and jumped up. "Of course, of course! Thank you, boys, thank you." He started shaking their hands. "You're doing a great service here for mankind. And for me, too!"

"Uh huh," Heyes said under his breath and turned away.

"All right, Harry," said the Kid. "Let's start at the beginning. This jewel thief you think we know, what does he look like?"

"I'm not sure. Only a few people have seen him. Hey, wait a minute! There's a wanted poster on him. I have it here somewhere!" He searched in his coat pocket and came up with a folded piece of paper, which he started reading to himself. "Everyone only knows what the wanted poster says . . . Saaaay . . . this sounds a lot like you, Kid! Are you the jewel thief?!"

Heyes rolled his eyes. "If we had half a million dollars in jewels, would we be wasting our time with people like you, Harry?"

"Good thinking, Heyes!"

PART 2

Harry Briscoe was greatly amused by the expressions on the faces of his two companions until he realized that he probably bore the same expression. After several variations on the "Holy (whatever)" theme, the three of them looked at each other and smiled.

"This might not be so bad after all," said Kid Curry. Heyes agreed.

"There, you see, fellas," Briscoe said. "You can always trust old Harry Briscoe to come through for you!"

That comment wasn't worth any more response than disappearing smiles. 'Harry Briscoe' and 'trust' just didn't belong in the same sentence.

"I wouldn't put any money on that one, Harry," said the Kid, "but you sure were right about this party guy being rich. Look at the size of his house!"

"I think, Kid," said Heyes, "when they start getting this big, they're called mansions. But, Harry, how exactly are we supposed to get over there? That island the house – correction, mansion – is on is smack dab in the middle of Lake Seco. It's got to be at least a mile from the shore. And I don't exactly see a rowboat anywhere."

"There you go not trusting me again, Heyes. We'll get there." Harry was smug and Heyes wasn't convinced. Harry removed a piece of paper from his inside pocket. Reading glasses then appeared on his nose. "All right, let's see here. This telegraph his man sent me says that the party guests will all be arriving today. Says we should wait right here at the landing because his boat will be going back and forth all day to pick up guests."

"What's our genial host's name?" queried Heyes.

"Hmmm? Oh – Ellwood. Thomas Ellwood. New money, not old. From somewhere in New England. Decided to bring some of his money out west, I guess. Bought himself Espiritu Island. Right in the middle of Lake Seco. Not a bad idea, I think. Good security being surrounded by water. Island is a mile from land, any direction. Yup, not a bad idea at all, rich man like that."

"Hey, look, Harry, there's a boat that's just leaving the island, headed our way." Kid Curry's good eyes were correct – a medium-sized boat was slowly making its way through the water.

At the same time, another surrey, similar to the one that had delivered them to the landing a few minutes earlier, was pulling up. A distinguished-looking couple disembarked, stepping gingerly onto the wooden platform. They were elegantly dressed and the woman carried a parasol. The driver removed their suitcases from a compartment in the back and set them off to the side. The gentlemen handed the driver some greenbacks and thanked him, and the driver left with the surrey.

"Were we supposed to tip our driver?" Briscoe whispered to Heyes.

"Doesn't really matter anymore, does it?" Heyes whispered back.

As the couple conversed, Briscoe said to his two confederates, "Here's my chance to start my interrogations. Watch the master!" And he walked over to the couple and started chatting with them.

Heyes and Curry remained where they were. "Heyes, did you see the diamond pin that woman is wearing?"

"The one on her coat, at her neck or on her hat?"

"That's what I mean. Those people are loaded! And that brings up another interesting question."

"If we find the stolen gems before Harry, do we take them ourselves and abscond."

"Exactly!"

Heyes shook his head. "We're not jewel thieves, Kid. Never have been. No, we're here to do a job for Harry and that's the only reason we're here." He put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "It'll be hard, I know, but you just keep thinking 'amnesty.' Not 'prison.' The only one going to prison here will be the jewel thief. Besides, if some of the guests' goodies disappear, you know we'll get nailed for the diamond thing, too!" Kid Curry sadly agreed.

It wasn't long before the boat reached them. The boatman, after perusing their invitations, assisted the passengers on board. It was a large, roomy boat with comfortable seating and a roof overhead to protect the passengers from the sun or rain during the short trip to the island. While riding, the passengers chatted. Harry presented his "friends" as Mr. Joshua Smith and Mr. Thaddeus Jones. The couple introduced themselves as Trevor and Trudy Teagarden. It seemed they were neighbors of Mr. Ellwood's. On shore, of course, for Mr. Ellwood lived alone on his island, except for servants. The boatman gave them some information about the house, named Espiritu after the island. Mr. Ellwood had it built to his specifications over the last couple years, and it included all the best amenities and latest inventions. Mr. Ellwood had other houses in the US and Europe, for he traveled often, but he always returned to this, his favorite home. The boatman further explained that this was the first party being thrown in this house and that Mr. Ellwood had gone "all out" to make it a fun one! He then hoped their weekend would be an enjoyable one and that they would find their rooms comfortable.

On the island, their wellbeing continued to be addressed, as a butler cordially met the company at the boat dock. The butler led the way along the beautifully landscaped winding path up the small hill to the mansion. The boatman loaded the luggage on a cart and veered off to the back of the house.

The butler opened the double front door and stood aside for the Teagardens to enter. As the Teagardens were crossing the large lobby to the next room where the sound of conversation made it obvious the other guests had gathered, the butler turned back to Briscoe, Heyes and Curry and said, "Please wait here." He then entered the home and closed the doors behind him.

"What the hell?" wondered Heyes, obviously miffed.

"Guess we're not going to be in the diamond crowd after all," said the Kid. He was disappointed and actually a little depressed.

"Now, boys," Briscoe tried to console them, "there's got to be a logical reason for . . . "

A well-dressed man suddenly appeared from the side of the house and hurried up to them. "Spirit Squelchers?" he asked them.

Briscoe and his moustache smiled. "At your service! Mr. Thomas Ellwood?"

"At your service as well, gentlemen. Thank you for coming!" He was a tall, good-looking man in his late 30s with light-colored hair and an amiable manner. He was impeccably dressed and appeared to be the kind of man who would fit in anywhere.

Briscoe introduced himself and his two associates. Ellwood heartily welcomed them to his island. "I wanted the opportunity to speak with you before you joined everyone," he said. "I want to be perfectly clear how you will be presenting yourselves to the other guests. And to let you know what your duties are. There seems to be a nasty ghost living in my house, maybe even two . . ." Briscoe nodded gravely and Heyes rolled his eyes. "They're bothersome and I am certainly hoping you can find him or them and rid my home of these unwanted spirits. There is going to be a party here tomorrow night, Halloween night, the first one I've given, in fact, and the guest list includes some very prestigious names. I want this party to be a success. I have put a lot of effort into the planning of it and I do not want any uninvited spirits ruining things! So do whatever you have to do to rid my home of these supernatural beings! You have carte blanche, as far as I am concerned. By the way, what will you be doing?"

When Briscoe took a deep breath and said, "Well . . . ," Mr. Ellwood continued. "Oh, never mind, it doesn't matter. Just do whatever you have to do. Now, what are the identities you are going to present to my guests?"

"We are gentlemen in the banking business!"

Bankers?! Where on earth did Briscoe come up with that? Curry looked at Heyes and Heyes looked at the sky.

Sleuth Harry Briscoe had been all set to watch everyone's faces as he entered but being detained outside by the host delayed that plan. Ellwood himself brought them into the solarium and introduced them as his bankers. The last guests to arrive.

There were seven other guests in the room already, all clearly comfortable in overstuffed chairs, with a maid seeing to it that each guest was given a glass of sherry or other wine of their choosing. Appetizers were liberally sprinkled on tables throughout the room.

One of the guests who had arrived earlier stepped forward to shake the hands of the new guests. "How do you do, gentlemen?" he articulated. "My name is Professor Aloysius Argot. That lovely young lady sitting over there is my wife Anne-Marie." Although he was clearly in his late 30s, his wife was, thought Heyes, barely of drinking age yet. "Hello, everyone," Anne-Marie sing-songed, but looked only at Kid Curry as she spoke.

"Gentlemen," another guest addressed the new arrivals as he shook their hands. "I'm Phil – Phil Hanson." He was also in his late 30s and, like their host, had fine handsome features and a genial manner. Also like their host, he had a slight British accent. For a moment, Briscoe wondered if they might be brothers, but Hanson squelched that idea immediately. "Call me Phil. Tom and I are old friends. Childhood, in fact. I understand you gents are the last guests to arrive."

"So we've been told," Heyes said, shaking Hanson's hand.

Another male party guest also stepped forward to shake the hands of the new arrivals. "How do you do?" he said elegantly and with a Dutch accent. "My name is Aldert Beekhof. I would consider it an honor if you would address me by my given name, Aldert." He swept his hand to a chair on his left and further said, "The very lovely lady who occupies that chair is Miss Constance Cornwell. Although, I've no doubt she needs no introduction."

Heyes and the Kid looked at each other and shrugged slightly.

But Harry Briscoe apparently did indeed know who Miss Constance Cornwell was. He bowed and scraped his way over to her and took her hand in his own, kissing it. Miss Cornwell seemed to expect this reaction to any introduction. She smiled lamely and indicated a chair near her for him to be seated.

"Oh, Miss Cornwell," fawned Briscoe, to the amusement of Heyes and Curry, "this is indeed such an honor! I was very lucky to be able to have seen you on the big stage on Broadway in 'The Lady's Jewels!' You were magnificent! I must say that performance is without a doubt the finest performance I have ever witnessed! I am indeed a lucky man to make your acquaintance!"

"That was, of course, several years ago," was her only reply, but the slight suggestion of a smile played on her over-rouged lips.

"It has always been my greatest desire . . . " Briscoe continued, but happily the crowd was spared the knowledge of Harry Briscoe's greatest desire by Heyes's interruption.

"Mr. Briscoe, Mr. Jones and myself are certainly looking forward to this party! Mr. Ellwood, it was considerate of you to invite us. And, may I say, your home is quite impressive."

"Yeah, it's whopping!" said the Kid, who said no more because Heyes kicked him.

"My friend means your home's beauty is unstoppable," Heyes corrected, with a quick scowl to his partner.

"Uh, yeah, that's what I was going to say," the Kid unconvincingly said, and managed to kick Heyes as well.

Young Mrs. Anne-Marie Argot smiled at him. "You're just so right, Mr. Jones. It's top-notch!"

"Tom," Mr. Teagarden addressed the host, "thank you for inviting us. Trudy and I have admired the view your home provides from our own home across the lake."

"But I must say, Tom," his wife continued. "We never realized the opulent style with which you have furnished the interior. It's really quite beautiful! I heartily approve."

"As do I," actress Constance Cornwell inserted. "I am quite comfortable here."

"And – knowing Tom – this promises to be an exciting weekend!" said Phil Hanson. He slapped the host on the back. "Thanks for inviting me, old friend."

Ellwood laughed. "You're always the life of the party, Phil! But, everyone – your compliments are appreciated but unnecessary. I built this house for comfort and comfort should be shared, right? Shared via a party! And I have other fun events planned for this weekend prior to the party as well. I'm going to go check on our lunch but before I do, I'd like to explain how I know you all. Now my neighbors all know each other, the Teagardens who live on the shore, and Professor and Anne-Marie Argot . . ." (Heyes noticed that Ellwood smiled at Mrs. Argot as he called her name.) " . . . who live a few minutes down the road. Phil, you've probably gathered, is a lifelong friend. We grew up together in Britain and traveled to the States as very young men, almost at the same time. Phil and his wife and children live about 200 miles away; his wife Christie decided to pass on my invitation because of the travelling and is staying home with the children . . ."

"She's going to miss a good time!" Phil laughed.

Ellwood nodded in agreement. "And this is the first time Phil's been to my new home as well. Mr. Beekhof . . ." (He nodded in the direction of Aldert Beekhof.) "Aldert is also a friend of mine, although I have not known him more than a few years. We met on the ship as I returned from one of my trips to Europe. Aldert and his wife were moving to the United States from Amsterdam at the time. Poor Lotte was quite ill and was hoping for improvement with American doctors." Ellwood's voice tone had changed to one of sympathy.

Beekhof continued the story for him. "But it was not to be. No money was spared for the improvement of her health and for her comfort, but she finally succumbed. I have been a widower for a year now."

"I'm very sorry," said Constance Cornwell, convincingly sympathetic. But, thought Briscoe, as an actress she could just be putting on an act.

In an effort to change the general tone, Ellwood slapped him on the back. "I promise you a good time this weekend, Aldert!"

"Ja, ja!" Beekhof replied.

Ellwood walked over to Miss Cornwell and gallantly kissed her hand. "And I'm sure this lovely lady needs no introduction. Miss Cornwell is a stage actress who magnanimously has accepted my invitation to vacation in the West. She has graced this home with her presence for a few days already, but will be leaving on Sunday with the rest of you. Where are you off to next, Connie?"

"San Francisco," she smiled, obviously grateful for the attentions of the host. "I shall spend some time there and attend a play or two myself. This time as a spectator, not a participant," she added grandly in a stage voice. Everyone laughed except Heyes.

"And finally, my bankers," Ellwood said, stepping over to Heyes, Curry and Briscoe. "Good men, all three of them. Helping to preserve the family fortune!"

Teagarden nodded in grave understanding. "So you are the financial engineers of our genial host. How long have you been associated with Mr. Ellwood?"

Heyes said, "Not long" and Briscoe said "A long time" simultaneously. When the guests looked confused, Heyes quickly covered with, "That depends on your definition of 'long,' I suppose. We've been with Mr. Ellwood a while." He snuck a peek over to Briscoe, who was studying his cigar.

"That's right," Ellwood said, slapping Heyes on the back. Ellwood was clearly a back-slapper. "Now I'm moving on to the kitchen to let them know it's time to serve lunch." He turned and headed for a doorway. Just before leaving, he added, "Thank you all for coming. You have no idea how much I appreciate it!" And he disappeared into the kitchen. Heyes thought he saw a whitish shadow accompanying Ellwood, but when he blinked, it was gone.

PART 3

Turns out the mansion truly was haunted. Briscoe quickly concluded that as soon as he entered his bedroom. The ethereal groans and growls emanating from the attic right above him convinced him an immediate powwow with Heyes was in order.

Heyes's bedroom was two doors down from his, with the Kid's in-between. When Heyes didn't immediately respond to his knock, Briscoe panicked. He's just shaving or something. He's fine, I'm fine, everything's fine, there's no such thing as ghosts, he thought. But aloud, he called, "Joshua! Open the door! Hurry up, damn it!"

Kid Curry heard the yelling from his room and stuck his head out the door to see what was wrong. "Harry, what's up?"

"Something's wrong with Hey . . . Joshua! He's not answering the door!"

But at that moment, Heyes did open the door. "Harry, what's the matter with you? What's all the racket about?"

"Harry missed you," the Kid laughed. "It's been a good – what? – two minutes?"

Briscoe pushed his way past Heyes and sat heavily on the bed.

"Harry, what's the matter with you? You're shaking. You're white as a ghost." The Kid stepped in the room as well.

"He always looks like that," Heyes wisecracked.

"No no no, boys!" Even Harry's voice was shaking. "Didn't you hear it? Those noises? From the attic? Didn't you hear them?"

Heyes was a little piqued at the rude interruption. "Of course I heard them! Probably just a couple cats in the attic is all."

"Try to calm down, Harry," the Kid consoled.

Empowered by a sudden new thought, Briscoe pounced on Kid Curry. "Kid! Did you hear those sounds?!"

"Sure, I heard 'em. Animals got in the attic is all, like Heyes said."

"No no no! I'm sure I heard a woman screaming in there, too!"

"Can't be, Harry," Heyes pointed out, "the women guests' rooms are downstairs. Besides, what have they got to scream about? – they've already met you."

But Briscoe was too upset to respond. He shook his head. "I think you two are going deaf. There was groaning, and . . . it sounded a little like a woman's scream, and . . . something jumped up and down."

"Uh huh, yeah." Heyes and Curry each grabbed one of Briscoe's arms and led him back to his room. "Just take it easy, Harry, and get ready for lunch. And remember not to mention ghosts at lunch! We're supposed to be bankers here," the Kid reminded him.

Heyes added, "And we're right here too, Harry, to protect you. Mr. Big Strong Detective." Briscoe turned his face to Heyes in appreciation and his breath came a little too close for comfort; Heyes turned his head aside.

"Thanks, fellas, thanks. I knew I could count on . . ." was the last thing they heard Briscoe say before they shoved him in his room and closed the door.

In the hall in front of his own room, the Kid asked Heyes, "You think there's something to that?"

"Maybe. I heard it too. But we're not here to squelch any spirits, no matter what our genial host thinks; we're here to find a jewel thief. And the stolen diamonds."

"I don't know . . . "

"Come on, Kid, you don't really believe in ghosts, do you? It was just cats or something."

"No. But what about that woman's scream from the attic?"

"It was a lady cat."

Briscoe was shaken. It took another visit from them to get him moving.

"Come on, Harry, let's go! We'll be late for lunch!" Kid Curry urged.

"Sorry, boys. I'm just a little rattled."

"I thought you weren't afraid of ghosts," the Kid admonished.

"I'm not! I don't even believe in them! But . . . those unearthly sounds . . ." Briscoe's voice trailed off.

"Leave him, Kid," said Heyes. "You and I will go down to lunch without him."

Briscoe jumped up. "And leave me here alone? Oh no, you don't!"

Lunch was served on the side patio. This allowed the guests the opportunity to enjoy views of the lake and the mansion, as well as the woods behind them. A table for eleven was arranged, with Ellwood the host at the head.

Heyes, Curry and Briscoe were the last to arrive. They walked in on a conversation between Ellwood and the Dutch man, Beekhof. Apparently Beekhof had just inquired about the chef.

"Cookie?" said Ellwood. "Yes, he's very good, isn't he?"

"Coincidence that? The cook's name is Cookie?" Beekhof was amused.

Ellwood laughed, also. "No no, I think his real name is Durand or something."

"You Americans and you English with your nicknames!" Everyone laughed.

"I doubt if you'll even see him while you're here," Ellwood continued. "He's very serious about his work and usually stays in the kitchen. Now Maggie here is his assistant and she will be serving your meals." He pointed to the young woman attending the table. She was the same one who had served the sherry prior to lunch.

"Maggie, you're quite lovely," Beekhof said, as a father might compliment his daughter. Maggie blushed.

"Yes, she certainly is," said Ellwood's friend Hanson, with a distinct unfatherly tone to his voice. Heyes and Curry caught the quick chastising look Ellwood cast at his friend.

Tom Ellwood continued, "Don't hesitate to ask Maggie if you need anything. Or Wethersby either. He's the butler who will be attending you as well. Been with me for a while now. Quite dependable."

Apparently properly scolded, Hanson said, "Yes, Wethersby's a reliable chap. Known him for years. Staunch, very professional."

Ellwood then led the luncheon conversation in a few interesting directions, one of which was the short history of the house they were in. Since every guest made some remark about the beauty or opulence of the home, Ellwood hastened to point out that many of the furnishings had been shipped from England when his parents had passed on. "Old money" was implied, which made Heyes and Curry remember Briscoe's earlier remark that "new" money was what Ellwood had. Since the host was only in his late 30s, it was probably "old" money that was actually involved. Briscoe maybe, just maybe, could be wrong, Heyes thought to himself with a grin. A quick glance at the Kid found him grinning also.

Prof. Argot and his wife Anne-Marie were active participants wherever the conversation led. As a professor and author, he was anxious to 'show off' (Kid Curry's term) his elocution (Heyes's term) skills, and his wife just seemed to want everyone to notice her. Her skills seemed to lie solely in the area of flirting (both Heyes's and the Kid's term).

Ellwood, as the host, was of course the common denominator of the group, although Prof. and Mrs. Argot and Trevor and Trudy Teagarden had a passing acquaintance with each other. Both couples were neighbors of Ellwood's, the Teagardens living just across the lake, and the Argots living a couple miles away. Mr. Teagarden was quite wealthy, Heyes determined when listening to the man speak of his own mansion. Clearly he married his younger wife for her beauty, and she married him for his money. Nonetheless, he looked at her often with what probably passed for love in his eyes. Most likely Trudy was his one weak spot. When Teagarden spoke of his rapid rise through the business world, both Briscoe and Trudy lost interest. Heyes did a much better job paying attention to the things the guests said than Briscoe did.

Constance Cornwell, an elegant woman in her late 40s, was less inclined to participate in conversations but politely answered any questions directed to her. She confirmed what Ellwood had said when introducing her. Briscoe and Aldert Beekhof hung on her every word.

When Heyes, Curry and Briscoe were asked banking questions, Heyes did most of the talking. He did a good job of faking it. The Silver Tongue at work, thought Kid Curry, and probably Briscoe as well.

Although the luncheon fare was simple compared to what dinner no doubt promised to be, the variety of salads, breads, autumn fruits and freshly-caught lake fish proved unbeatable and compliments to the chef abounded. When questioned by Trevor Teagarden, the butler explained that apart from himself and the chef, the only other live-in assistant was Maggie. The remainder of the staff was ferried in from the mainland each day.

Before the dishes would be cleared away by Maggie, the guests decided to move indoors to the solarium for coffee. Storm clouds on the horizon squelched the invitation that Anne-Marie Argot made to the crowd (mostly the male guests, Heyes and the Kid noticed) to join her for a walk in the woods.

As the guests were settling in the seats they had previously occupied, Miss Cornwell said, "Well, that's odd! My gloves are missing! I distinctly remember leaving them right here!"

"Could these be them?" Beekhof asked, gallantly handing the gloves back to their owner. "I found them sitting over here on this table."

"Why, yes, they are!" Miss Cornwell was confused. "I know I didn't put them there! But – no matter – thank you, Mr. Beekhof!"

Aldert Beekhof blushed. "Aldert, please!"

"You're not the only one," said Prof. Argot. "I left my pipe and tobacco right here, and now they are missing!" He turned to his wife. "I suppose you hid them?"

"I didn't touch them, but I'm glad they're gone. Ugh!" Anne-Marie made a face. "That stinky pipe!"

Ellwood noted, "I remember seeing a pipe and tobacco pouch on the sideboard near the breezeway. I don't smoke, so maybe those are yours. Wethersby, would you fetch them, please?"

Trudy Teagarden let out a little yelp. "My brooch! It's missing! Trevor, my brooch is missing!" She reached for her husband and he put his arm around her. Heyes, Curry and particularly Briscoe sprang to immediate attention.

"When did you have it last, dear?" Teagarden asked his wife.

"I had it at lunch!"

"Yes," said Miss Cornwell. "I remember seeing her wear it then."

"Perhaps it fell off as we came inside," soothed Ellwood. "When he returns, I'll have Wethersby search for it."

Properly soothed by the crowd, Mrs. Teagarden waved her arm. "No, no, don't go to any bother. I have others!" (This comment was startling enough to cause Briscoe to pay attention to the reactions of everyone there. A jewel thief, after all, would love to hear something like that. But, unfortunately, everyone reacted.) Trudy Teagarden also noticed the reactions and laughed. "I just meant that I have copies at home. Those diamonds weren't real! Heavens, no! I keep all my real jewelry locked away in a safe somewhere!"

"Off property!" Mr. Teagarden warned the crowd. Just in case, apparently. This led to a general discussion of jewelry as an investment. In a short while, Wethersby returned with the pipe for the grateful Prof. Argot.

"Wethersby," asked Ellwood. "Did you happen to see a brooch lying anywhere?"

"No, sir," the butler responded. He stepped closer to Ellwood and lowered his voice. "I overheard your conversation and did search for it. It was nowhere to be found. However, sir, I did find something else rather peculiar."

"What's that?"

"Miss Maggie is in the kitchen making coffee and has not had yet the chance to clear the dishes from the luncheon table."

"So?'

"I looked at the table, sir, and noticed that it is clean! Not a dish left on it!"

PART 4

"Don't say anything to the guests about the clean table," Ellwood told his butler surreptitiously. "It's that damn spirit acting up again."

"Yes sir. At least this time it did something useful."

"I didn't tell you, Wethersby," said Ellwood, looking around to make sure no one else could hear him, "but those guys posing as bankers are really from Spirit Squelchers."

"Sir?"

"They get rid of ghosts. Things like that. Three of them came so let's hope they can do some good. I don't need my guests exposed to any more nonsense like their things getting moved."

"And jewelry disappearing!"

"Uh . . . right, right. Remember, now – keep it to yourself."

Maggie came up to Ellwood. "Sir? The dishes . . . "

"I know, Maggie, I know. They're probably clean and put away."

"They are, sir."

"It's that damn pesky ghost again. Just don't upset the guests – they don't have to know about it."

"No sir."

And then the storm hit. All through lunch the group had watched the clouds moving in from the distance. Everyone was safely in the solarium when the thunder and rain started. There was some wind, too. Enough to make everyone grateful they were dry and comfortable.

Wethersby left to close any windows open in the house. Miss Cornwell had been standing at one of the solarium windows when the rain started, and she herself magnanimously volunteered to close the solarium windows. Each was too heavy for her to manage, however, and Mr. Beekhof was only too happy to assist her. When the wind picked up and it suddenly started raining in, Prof. Argot also jumped up and together the three of them managed to close the last large window just in time.

"Did anyone see that?" he asked as the other two were returning to their chairs. He seemed confused.

"See what, Professor?" Miss Cornwell inquired.

He scratched his head. "I could have sworn I saw a sort of . . . I don't know . . . maybe a shadow? Or a . . . a white shadow? I'm not sure how to describe it."

His teen-age wife skipped over to him and grabbed his hand. "My husband at a loss for words?" she said gaily. "That's a first!" She laughed and so did a few others.

But the Professor just shook his head. "Sorry, darling. I saw something. I don't know . . . it must have been the wine. Yes, that's it, surely the wine."

Anne-Marie Argot rubbed her husband's head and pouted with her red lips and generally made a silly fuss over him, which made Phil Hanson and Kid Curry and who knows who else jealous.

In a little while, the host returned, followed by Maggie. They were carrying a coffee urn, several cups and accessories, and a tray of cookies.

"Everything all right?" inquired Trudy Teagarden.

"Yes, everything's fine," Ellwood said happily. "Got everything all secured. No problems. This rainy weather is unfortunate since I planned on some outdoor activities this afternoon. But – no matter. We have games we can play indoors." He spread his arms and pointed out his elegant chess table, and, near it, a table set up for backgammon. "Connie?" he continued. "I have the feeling you'll find better competition than me for chess today." He turned to the crowd. "Whoever has the courage, I have to tell you – she's beaten me every game this week!"

Mr. Beekhof went over to Miss Cornwell and held out his hand. "I would be very pleased if you would honor me with a game of chess," he said to her. She grandly nodded and the two of them ventured to the chess table.

"And backgammon's definitely my game," said Trevor Teagarden. He held out his hand to his wife Trudy. "My dear?"

"No, dear," she replied. "I'm not really in the mood for backgammon today. You win way too often."

Harry Briscoe jumped up so quickly he startled Heyes. "Backgammon happens to be my game," he announced. Before he retired to the backgammon table, he turned to Heyes and whispered, "Here's my chance to interrogate the rich guy. Watch the master at work!" Heyes rolled his eyes.

Teagarden sat down opposite him and rubbed his hands together. "Excellent, Mr. Briscoe! Always enjoy annihilating a stalwart of the banking institution!" A quick image of an annihilated Harry Briscoe crossed Heyes's mind and he smiled.

"Sorry, but I don't think I have any other board games," Ellwood apologized.

"Anyone for a game of whist?" Heyes ventured. "Or poker?" said the Kid. But no one seemed interested in cards.

"I know!" gushed Anne-Marie Argot. "Let's play some parlor games! They're such fun!"

The remaining men probably did not think parlor games were 'such fun,' but something about the enthusiastic bouncy way Mrs. Argot said everything with her rouged lips enticed them to want to participate in any game of her choosing.

"All right! Very good, Anne-Marie! What did you have in mind?" Ellwood tried to keep her enthusiasm going.

"How about 'Graces?' Oh no, wait – that's a girl's game." She put her finger to her pouty lips and this apparently helped her to come up with another choice. "How about 'Blindman's Bluff?'"

"No, I don't think so." Kid Curry had no intention of being blindfolded in a roomful of strangers. Heyes understood and smiled gently.

This caused an actual true pout on Mrs. Argot's part, which the men thoroughly enjoyed. "Well, then," she said, at only a momentary loss, "how about 'Lookabout?'"

"I'm afraid I don't know that game," said Phil Hanson, but he quickly added, "but I'm willing to play. Whatever it is!"

"I'm unfamiliar with it as well," said Mrs. Teagarden. "Anne-Marie, how is it played?"

"Well, you take an object in the room . . ." She looked around. "Like this doily here. And everyone leaves the room except for one person, and that person hides the object. And then everyone comes back and looks all over the room for it. And the person who finds it wins something!"

"What do they win?" Heyes asked.

"Well, uh . . . " Mrs. Argot looked to her host.

"I'll tell you what," Ellwood said. Maggie had been disbursing coffee all around the room and was about to start with the cookies. Ellwood grabbed the tray of cookies from her. "Why don't we say that everyone gets just one cookie, but whoever finds the object gets to have as many as they want?"

Mrs. Argot clapped her teenage hands. "Oh, goody! I like that!"

"All right, everyone?" Ellwood tried to get some enthusiasm going.

Heyes and Curry looked at each other and shrugged. "All right." "Fine." Everyone else replied in the affirmative. "Who starts, Anne-Marie?" Ellwood asked.

"Why, the host always starts!" she said.

"But that means that I don't get a chance to win and get all the cookies!"

"Silly you!" Anne-Marie Argot, pouty lips, bouncy curls (etc.) and all, playfully tapped Ellwood on the chest, causing all the men to envy him. "Why, you live here! You can have cookies any time!"

He laughed. "I suppose that's true. All right, what shall the item be? Let's see . . . how about this bowl here? It's never used, so it's clean, and it should be easy to find."

Everyone agreed that the bowl was a great idea. They all left the room, leaving behind only Ellwood, Maggie, and the four people who were deeply involved in their board games. Ellwood asked Maggie to arrange the cookies on a table with some kind of bow so they would look like a prize. She removed a bow from a vase of flowers and put it on top of the cookie tray. Ellwood looked around for a good hiding place for the bowl and decided that hiding it within a fold of one of the draperies would work well. When he had finished, he called the group back in, and he and Maggie had fun watching everyone search.

The cookies were a good impetus for Kid Curry, but Heyes was more focused. He used his "search" time to inspect drawers, paperwork, and anything that looked like it might lead to the recovery of the stolen jewels. The others clearly were having a better time than they had expected. Prof. and Anne-Marie Argot laughed a lot, and so did Trudy Teagarden. Phil Hanson was the most aggressive and it was he who found the bowl. "I win!" he declared loudly. He set it on a chair and made his way to the cookie prize. The winner declared, Maggie left the room and, just a moment later, she was heard screaming.

Led by Ellwood, the games participants all ran into the next room to see what the trouble was. Maggie was standing just inside the doorway, pointing at the dining room table. On top of the table was the bowl that had just been in the solarium a moment ago. And on top of the bowl, which was inverted, was the doily that Anne-Marie Argot had returned to its place in the solarium. And on top of the doily was Trudy Teagarden's missing brooch, tied up in the ribbon that had made up the bow!

Anne-Marie Argot clapped happily. "What fun! What fun!" she said repeatedly.

The other women looked confused at first and then they too started laughing. So did Prof. Argot, Mr. Beekhof, Kid Curry and Harry Briscoe. Hannibal Heyes, Phil Hanson and Trevor Teagarden looked to their host for guidance.

"However did you do it, Tom?" said Trudy Teagarden, laughing.

"A magnificent parlor trick," Miss Cornwell added. "I've not seen anything this convincing even on the stage!"

Unwilling to admit the possibility of spirits within his majestic premises, Tom Ellwood merely cleared his throat and said, "Well, I did promise you a week-end of surprises! I'll never tell!"

Mrs. Teagarden removed the brooch from the ribbon and attached it to her dress. "So that's why my little bauble disappeared! You needed it for the game. Tom, you're such a scamp!"

Phil Hanson looked skeptical. "Amazing," he said unconvincingly. He turned his face away from the crowd and whispered to his friend the host, "I see you found the brooch."

Ellwood ignored him. Heyes missed none of this. Briscoe missed most of it.

The rest of the afternoon was spent playing a variety of parlor games. Mr. Beekhof and Miss Cornwell spent the entire afternoon at the chess board. Mr. Teagarden complained of a headache and went up to his room for a nap. His place at the backgammon board was taken by Prof. Argot, and Briscoe yielded his place to Ellwood. The wind and rain continued to pound the house, but it was solidly built and the multiple fireplaces kept it quite comfortable.

By late afternoon, Ellwood suggested that everyone prepare for dinner. Cookie had prepared a formal dinner, he said, so he suggested formal dress for all who had brought some. Everyone returned to their rooms to prepare for dinner.

As Heyes, Curry and Briscoe were about to enter their rooms, they heard a sudden loud noise right above them. In an instant, Kid Curry pulled his gun. The three of them looked up at the hall ceiling. Heyes aimed his gun also. Briscoe froze.

The Kid indicated a door at the end of the hall. "Think that's the door to the attic?"

"Yeah," said Heyes. Guns drawn, the two of them headed over to it. Suddenly realizing he was standing alone, Briscoe also drew his gun and followed them. Closely.

Heyes stood on one side of the door and Curry on the other. They nodded to each other, then Heyes suddenly pulled the door open. Curry stepped through the doorway, gun first. The light from the hall was sufficient to only allow him to see the first few steps. "Harry," Heyes whispered, "get the lamp from my room. We need more light."

"Uh . . . "

"Harry! Now!"

Briscoe was doing mental calculations as to which was more dangerous, a ghost or an angry Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes. Kid Curry's gun won and Briscoe hurried to Heyes's room to get the lighted lamp.

The three of them ventured up the stairs, Heyes leading with the light and Briscoe, unsurprisingly, trailing. The storm was continuing in its fury and the noise was particularly loud in the attic.

Holding the light aloft, they searched the attic as far as they could see. All three of them expected to find a variety of old furniture, knickknacks, and dust. But since the house was only recently built, there wasn't much up there except for leftover building materials.

There was a solid floor, so Heyes walked around to investigate. "Look here," he said. "This bundle of boards lying here looks like it was leaning against the wall. That's probably what we heard when it fell over."

"What made it fall over?" Briscoe asked shakily.

"The storm, Harry! Probably shaking the house a little. That's all, not a ghost! Let's look further."

"I think we've seen enough!" Briscoe suggested.

Heyes smiled slyly. "What's the matter, Harry? Afraid we'll find that screaming woman you heard?"

"Well . . . no. Well . . . yes."

The Kid put his arm on Briscoe's shoulder. "Don't worry, Harry. We're right here with you," he said with a snicker.

"Sure, but you guys aren't afraid of anything. You're not human!"

Heyes continued forward through the attic, and therefore so did the light. "Are you suggesting we're ghosts, Harry?" he asked eerily. The Kid made a ghostly noise for effect.

"No, but there's ghosts here in this house! I've seen 'em, you've seen 'em, Professor Argot's seen 'em. They're here, all right! And what about that missing brooch suddenly showing up? And that bowl! I myself saw it sitting in the solarium and then I walked into the dining room and there it was! And the bow and everything! And the brooch right on top!"

"Just a parlor trick," said the Kid. "Just like Miss Cornwell suggested." He continued to push Briscoe forward to keep up with Heyes.

"Not a chance! There's no human way that bowl could have gotten past everyone without us seeing it. Flying or something."

Heyes stopped and looked back at Briscoe with disdain. "Harry, you're a detective – think about it! See if you can come up with a way that could have happened."

Briscoe looked at the floor but there were no answers there. "Well . . . maybe . . . No, it had to be a ghost!"

Kid Curry was starting to feel sorry for the detective. "It really was a parlor trick, Harry. Ellwood did it. Maggie probably helped. When everyone was in the solarium looking for the hidden bowl, one of them took a bowl that looked just like it and arranged it on the table in the next room. Maggie screams, we all run in there and – voila! – we all think ghosts! And while we're in the dining room, Ellwood took the original bowl and put it out of sight. He arranged it all for our entertainment."

Briscoe shook his head. "I'm not so sure, Kid. I saw his face when it was discovered. He was just as surprised as everybody else."

"All right, you think what you want, Harry. Come on, Heyes, we've seen enough. Let's go get ready for the meal." The Kid nodded to Heyes and the three of them went back down to their rooms.

As Heyes was entering his bedroom, Briscoe grabbed Curry and pushed them all inside. He shut the door behind them.

"What's going on, Harry?" asked the Kid.

"Boys, this is a good time to compare notes. Find out what we've all discovered. I don't know about the two of you, but I've found out a whole lot of things!"

"What could you possibly have discovered playing backgammon all afternoon?" Heyes asked, the contempt in his voice unconcealed.

Harry sat on the bed and spent some time lighting his cigar, for effect. "For one thing," he said, "that Mr. Trevor Teagarden is verrrrrrry interesting! He's a little too rich for just a businessman, if you ask me. Self-made, he says. Lumber, silver, investments, he says. Got a beautiful wife lots younger than him, and a house full of statues and paintings, he says."

The Kid was becoming mildly interested. "You thinking he's the jewel thief?"

"Well, now, boys, the thought did cross my mind. We talked about business for a while . . . and, I got to tell you, I'm not convinced he's a businessman at all! Every time I brought up lumber or silver, he changed the subject. Wanted to talk about me! I don't think he knows anything about lumber or silver like he says."

The Kid laughed. "And now he's probably not convinced you're a banker!"

"Maybe. But I'm not a jewel thief!"

Seeing he had their attention, Briscoe continued smugly. "Do you know what I found out by listening in on everyone?"

Heyes was not about to be baited. "Of course."

"What do you mean?!"

"You're not the only one with ears, Harry."

"All right, Smarty, what did you find out?"

"The Kid's right - they know you're not a banker. They're considering other possibilities. Chimney sweep was the leading favorite, last I heard. 'Detective' was never mentioned."

Harry Briscoe, for all his bad points, had some redeeming ones as well. In this case, he actually recognized he was being toyed with. "Ha ha, boys."

Heyes suddenly got serious. "There's something you should know. That brooch that Mrs. Teagarden said wasn't real? I got a good look at it. It's got real diamonds in it, all right, and I'm guessing it's worth over $10,000. And that's only one of several she was wearing!"

The three of them were ready at about the same time so they went down the stairs together.

"Harry, you finally convinced there aren't ghosts?" Heyes asked.

"I don't know. Anyhow, I feel a little better about it after seeing that empty attic. But I'm still keeping an . . . open mind!"

Heyes magnanimously passed up the golden opportunity that remark presented. Kid Curry said, "And the beds sure are soft. You'll sleep good tonight, Harry."

"I always sleep like a top, boys!"

"Well, Harry," Heyes said. "Maybe tonight you'll be spinning!"

Dinner consisted of several courses, beginning with consommé and crab cakes and ending with an elegant hot dessert which Wethersby first touched a long match to and then, when the applause had died down, poured a sweet sauce over.

Each course also included a special applicable wine, and by the time the guests pushed away from the table, they were sated and talkative. They retired to the solarium once again, for the most part returning to their previous seating arrangement. The wind continued to whip the rain at the windows. The draperies did not close over the tall windows, and watching the rain produced a hypnotic effect.

Ellwood stood by the piano and said, "I had hired a pianist from town to come entertain us this evening, but the boatman apparently doesn't feel it's safe to bring the boat over now. I don't blame him; when the wind and rain whip up like this, the lake is unpredictable. I don't want anyone getting hurt. So I'm afraid you'll have to put up with my playing instead! And I'm not very good!" He laughed and sat down at the piano. "Unless anyone else wants to volunteer . . .?" He looked endearingly at the crowd.

Heyes knew that Briscoe could play the piano. When Briscoe, a natural attention-seeker, did not speak up, Heyes was proud of him; Briscoe apparently remembered it was more important to spend his time looking for clues to the stolen diamonds.

Trudy Teagarden, however, did speak up. "Tom, I play. I have taken lessons for years. But I'm not very talented." She looked shyly at her husband.

For the first time, Trevor Teagarden smiled. "Go on," he encouraged her. "You underestimate yourself, my dear. Your playing is entrancing." A modest round of applause produced the desired effect; Mrs. Teagarden and Thomas Ellwood sat at the piano together and played a duet. They both played better than they had indicated and the crowd was pleased. The continuing applause prompted them to play several selections. It also allowed Briscoe and Heyes to slip out unnoticed and investigate the rooms on the first floor they had not yet seen.

When Briscoe's search in a parlor was discovered by the butler, Wethersby inquired as to Mr. Briscoe's loss.

"Uh, just looking for my cigars, Wethersby. That's all. My cigars."

The butler nodded to the detective. "Perhaps, sir, the ones in your jacket pocket will do nicely."

Briscoe looked down and, sure enough, six cigars were sticking out plain as day. "Oh, ha ha! There they are! Silly me!"

"Yes sir," Wethersby said stiffly.

Briscoe returned to the solarium. Maybe next time he could lose his matches.

Ellwood thanked Trudy Teagarden for her willingness to entertain the guests. He asked Wethersby to serve the cognac and then moved into the crowd as everyone began to mingle.

By this time, Heyes had returned. He had searched everywhere he could think of where diamonds might be hidden on the first floor. He congregated by his friends and shrugged his shoulders. "Harry, any luck?"

"No, me neither."

"What next?" inquired the Kid.

"They'd probably be in a bedroom anyhow," said Heyes. "We're going to have to wait until morning when everyone has come down for breakfast before we start searching rooms. With Wethersby serving cognac, half the guests are already nodding off, liable to go upstairs at any time."

"And that's another thing," said the Kid, a little miffed, "how come our bedrooms are on the third floor? All the guests, and Ellwood too, have their rooms on the second floor, but we're on the third floor! How come?"

"We're Spirit Squelchers, remember?" said Heyes. "Those sounds in the attic, you know. We're closer to them that way."

Briscoe shivered.

"Quite right, Mr. Smith," said Ellwood, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Heyes wondered how much of their conversation he might have overheard. Ellwood looked around to ascertain that no one was close enough to hear what the four of them had to say. "Mr. Briscoe, have you anything to report yet? Any ghosts eliminated?"

In his usual eloquent fashion, Briscoe said, "Well . . ."

Heyes came to his rescue. "Mr. Ellwood, we investigated the attic and discovered the source of at least one of the noises – a very earthly explanation. We've also inconspicuously spent some time on this floor and so far we have found nothing unusual." He smiled.

"It – or they – are still here though. Argot saw it. Wethersby and Maggie and Cookie and I see it all the time. Gentlemen, I want these spirits eliminated!"

"Mr. Ellwood . . ."

"Oh, and there's another thing!" Ellwood continued. "That little fiasco in the dining room this afternoon? I didn't do that, you know! You can thank our invisible troublemaker for that! I don't need it stealing any more of my guests' belongings and then displaying them on the dining room table!"

Brisco suddenly paled. Both Heyes and Curry grabbed him to keep him upright.

"Make a plan, gentlemen! I don't care what you do, but get rid of these ghosts!"

As soon as he finished saying this, one of the women screamed. Everyone turned to look at Trudy Teagarden, who was pointing to the large window with one hand, her other hand covering her mouth.

"Dear God in Heaven," said Prof. Argot. Mr. Beekhof uttered something in Dutch. Anne-Marie Argot grabbed her husband and buried her face in his jacket. Miss Cornwell stood slowly and regally and announced theatrically, "It's truly a ghost!"

Ellwood took a step forward. Briscoe tried to take a step back, but his restrainers prevented that.

Everyone (even Anne-Marie Argot, who clung tightly to her husband), watched as a translucent white spirit floated gracefully throughout the room, circling just above the crowd and then disappearing through the window to the outside.

"Dear God in Heaven," Prof. Argot repeated. Mr. Beekhof went over to Miss Cornwell and inquired as to her well-being. Mr. Teagarden did the same with his wife. Phil stepped over to Ellwood and said, "What the hell?" to his friend.

The denial of spirits in the house was undeniably becoming less plausible. Ellwood looked to Briscoe and said quietly but sternly, "Well, Briscoe? There it is! Get rid of it!"

Briscoe was in no shape to get rid of anything, with the possible exception of the meal he'd just consumed. Heyes made a slight attempt at humor. "He already did, Mr. Ellwood. It's outside!"

Ellwood glowered at him. "Do something!"

The Kid looked at his partner. Although he didn't say anything, what-should-we-do? was evident in his eyes. Heyes shrugged.

Kid Curry took charge. He and Heyes sat Briscoe safely down in a chair. "I'm going out there, take a look around," said the Kid.

"Good!" said Ellwood. "Go out the side door. Take one of the slickers so you won't get too wet. Go!"

Heyes and Curry exchanged a look. Heyes knew the Kid was just going through the motions and felt helpless. But he felt just as helpless. He watched as the Kid checked his gun and then left for the side door.

The crowd heard the door open and the wind push rain in before it was closed. The last thing Kid Curry heard before he stepped out into the cold wet unpleasant dark night was Hannibal Heyes saying, "Will someone help me with Mr. Briscoe here? I think something he ate disagreed with him."

PART 5

"How about some more cognac?" Ellwood suggested brightly, going around to refill everyone's glass in an attempt to soothe their nerves following the appearance of the spectre.

When he got around to Heyes and offered the cognac bottle, Heyes shook his head, saying, "No, thank you. I think I'll take Mr. Briscoe up to his room for a rest."

They both looked at Briscoe, who was visibly trembling, his gaze fixed rigidly on the window through which the apparition had departed, his face almost as white as the spirit itself.

"Probably a good idea," agreed Ellwood. "Wethersby can help you."

"That won't be necessary, I can manage," said Heyes, who was intending to search some of the second floor guest rooms while the guests were occupied down here.

"As you wish." Ellwood turned back to the remaining guests while Heyes hauled Briscoe out of the chair and propelled him towards the door.

As they left the room, Heyes heard Ellwood say, "I'm glad everyone's enjoying my Halloween entertainments. Now Trudy, my dear, why don't you entertain us some more with another piano piece . . ."

"Can you h-honestly tell me . . . that wasn't a g-ghost?" stuttered Briscoe as Heyes urged him up the stairs.

"It was a pretty good parlour trick, I admit, but that's all it was, Harry. A trick."

"But, you could see right through it, and it . . . flew . . . around the room . . . and out through the window. Can you tell me a parlour trick that can achieve that?"

"I don't know, Harry, but it has to be a trick. There ain't no such thing as ghosts," said Heyes as they arrived at Briscoe's room. Heyes led him inside and sat him down in an armchair by the side of the bed. "Now, you just relax here. I'm going to check out the second floor rooms while everyone's occupied downstairs."

"Oh, no!" Briscoe got hurriedly to his feet, shaking his head. "If you think I'm staying here on my own you've got another think coming."

Heyes sighed exasperatedly. "All right, but keep quiet and don't disturb anything."

Quietly, they went back down to the second floor where Heyes decided to put a somewhat fearful Briscoe on guard at the top of the staircase to listen for any of the guests coming back up rather than have him following around the rooms while he searched and getting under his feet.

"But what if the ghost comes back?" Briscoe asked anxiously.

"It's not the ghost you have to worry about, Harry. It's someone coming upstairs and catching us searching their rooms you need to be afraid of. A ghost can't hurt you, but they can. Now, just stand here and keep your ears open and if you hear anyone coming up, you come get me – quietly! – and we'll head back upstairs before they find us. O.K?"

Briscoe nodded and Heyes had to fight to keep the smirk of amusement off his face when he saw him physically trembling as his eyes scanned the corridor and the ceiling for any sign of the mysterious white apparition. "I don't think you'll see too many of the guests on the ceiling, Harry!"

With a wry shake of his head Heyes entered the first room, looking through closets, drawers, wardrobes and any other personal items where one might hide diamonds – hat boxes, jewelry boxes, luggage - but drew a blank, as he did in every other room he searched.

He was just finishing searching the last room when Briscoe appeared in the doorway looking agitated. "I hear voices getting near," he whispered.

Heyes quickly replaced the bag he was searching, then he and Briscoe swiftly made their exit and hurried back upstairs to their own rooms before they could be discovered.

On entering the Kid's room Heyes was somewhat perplexed to find him not yet returned. He checked his watch. Ten thirty. It had been more than an hour since he'd gone outside to look around. He ought to be back by now.

Heyes crossed to the window and pulled back the curtain to look out. The storm was still raging outside, rain lashing the window, the trees at the edge of the lake twisting and bending under the force of the wind.

Returning to Briscoe's room, he found him seated in the armchair, the bed quilt wrapped around himself, swigging whisky from a hip flask. Briscoe jumped as Heyes entered the room, a frown creasing his brow.

"The Kid's not back yet."

"He's probably searching for clues . . ." Briscoe offered weakly.

"In this weather?" Heyes shook his head.

"Perhaps he took shelter somewhere, waiting for the rain to ease off?" Briscoe suggested.

Heyes gave him a withering look that caused Briscoe to give him a helpless shrug. "Well, he can't be far away. I'm sure he'll be back soon," he suggested hopefully.

Heyes just glared at him.

By midnight, there was still no sign of Kid Curry and Heyes was worried. Against his better judgment, he decided to go out and look for him. Creeping quietly downstairs, he took one of the slickers from the hall closet and quietly let himself out of the side door.

The wind almost took his breath away once he stepped outside and, even with the slicker, the rain soon trickled down his neck, making him miserable.

He searched the patio area and then ventured further into the grounds where he could safely call his friend's name without being heard by anyone inside. But his calls went unanswered, and in the dark and the driving rain he could barely see more than a yard in front of him. After half an hour of fruitless searching, he reluctantly headed back to the house.

After hanging up the slicker, he headed up to Briscoe's room, wiping rainwater off his face with his sleeve as he went. Briscoe was sitting in bed now in his nightshirt, the covers pulled up to his neck, obviously too afraid of a ghostly return visit to sleep.

"I've been out to look for him, but I can't find a sign of him anywhere," snapped Heyes, ignoring Briscoe's demeanor. "Something must have happened to him. But what?"

Briscoe shrugged, at a loss for any kind of credible explanation, while Heyes paced the room agitatedly. Shaking his head, Heyes gave a frustrated groan before turning to look at Briscoe and pointing an accusing finger in his direction, his dark eyes menacing.

"You'd better pray he's okay. Because, if he ain't, you'll have more than some ghost to be afraid of . . ." Heyes growled before turning on his heel and striding out of the room, leaving Briscoe staring fearfully at the door. Like everyone, he'd heard the stories that abounded about the former outlaws, and how ruthless they could be, and he didn't relish being on the receiving end of Heyes's wrath should some misfortune have befallen his friend.

Briscoe was awakened at first light by a knock at his door. Getting out of bed, he crossed to open the door a fraction and was almost knocked off his feet as an agitated Hannibal Heyes pushed his way into the room.

"Is he. . . back?" Briscoe asked anxiously.

"No!" snapped Heyes. "Get dressed. You can help me look for him now that it's light."

Briscoe considered protesting about going out into a storm at this ungodly hour, but bit it back as he met the ominous look in Heyes' eyes. He hastily pulled on his clothes.

Together they headed quietly downstairs, so as not to disturb the still sleeping guests, and let themselves out the side door. The rain had stopped temporarily, but the sky was heavy with storm clouds, indicating that it would start again soon, and the wind still blew strongly.

Briscoe shivered at the chill wind, as Heyes said, "I checked the grounds last night. Let's look in that copse over there." He pointed to the trees at the west side of the house.

With a nod, Briscoe obediently followed Heyes across to the copse. They split up and began a search of the undergrowth down as far as the edge of the lake before circling back towards the house, meeting on the patio.

At Heyes' questioning look, Briscoe shook his head. "Nothing."

Turning away, Heyes raked his hands up through his hair, shaking his head in bewilderment. "This is crazy," he said as he crossed to the wall around the edge of the patio. "People don't just vanish into thin air."

Spreading his hands on the top of the wall, he stared anxiously across the lake, trying to dismiss the thought that had crept into his mind - that someone had killed the Kid and thrown his body into the water. With a despairing sigh, he bowed his head, and then did a double take. The patio was raised several feet above the grounds, with stone steps in the middle that led down to them and, as Heyes bowed his head, his eyes fell on the Kid's motionless form lying at the base of the patio wall, ten feet to his left, partially hidden by some bushes.

"Kid!" he gasped, pushing away from the wall and bounding down the steps to get to him. With a puzzled look, Briscoe followed him.

Heyes reached the Kid and knelt at his side. The Kid was lying face down and there was blood in his hair, just behind his right ear.

Tentatively, Heyes reached out to place two fingers to his neck, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse.

"He's alive," he told Briscoe, who also breathed a sigh of relief, not wanting to think about what Heyes would have done to him if the Kid had been dead.

"Let's get him inside quickly, before the others get up," said Heyes. Together he and Briscoe carried the Kid back to the house, entering quietly through the side door where they made sure no one was around before heading upstairs to the Kid's room, where they laid him on the bed.

"Get me some water and towels," Heyes ordered, as he studied the Kid's mud-streaked face.

Briscoe nodded and disappeared, while Heyes quickly examined the Kid for any other injuries. On finding none he began to carefully remove the Kid's still damp clothes.

He fished a fresh union suit out of the Kid's bag and got him into it before pulling the bedcovers over him, by which time Briscoe had returned with a bowl of water and several towels.

Heyes cleaned the mud and grime off his friend's face and carefully dried off his hair with one of the towels before gently rolling him over so that he could examine the head wound. He appeared to have been hit with something heavy that had left a two inch gash in the back of his head.

Carefully, Heyes cleaned away the blood while Briscoe looked on, clearly nauseous at the sight of the open wound.

"I need something to bandage it with," said Heyes as he finished his ministrations.

"I'll go down and see if I can find something," Briscoe offered, but Heyes shook his head. "No. The less people who know about this, the better. Unless there's some other people living on this island who we haven't seen, it has to be one of the guests who did this. I want to keep whoever it is wondering what happened to him. Hopefully they'll give themselves away sooner or later. There's a spare white shirt in my bag; rip that up and I'll use it as a bandage."

Briscoe nodded and went to fetch the shirt, ripping it into pieces as Heyes directed. Folding a piece into a pad, Heyes placed it over the wound before using another strip to make a makeshift bandage.

This done, he carefully rolled the Kid back onto his back, eyeing him anxiously. His friend hadn't stirred at all since they'd found him by the patio and Heyes was worried. To be unconscious for this long could indicate a serious, possibly life-threatening injury. Ideally the Kid needed to be seen by a doctor but the nearest one was somewhere on shore.

Pulling a chair to the side of the bed Heyes sat down, intending to keep a vigil lest his friend should take a turn for the worse.

"What about breakfast?" Briscoe asked presently.

"Hmm?" said Heyes, his attention focused on the Kid.

"It's breakfast time. Are you coming down?"

Heyes shook his head. "No, I'm staying here." He wasn't going anywhere until his friend either recovered, or . . . He pushed the thought from his head.

"What shall I tell them, you know, about you missing breakfast?" asked Briscoe.

Heyes shrugged. "I don't know, tell them . . . tell them we're both still full after last night's generous dinner and have decided to skip breakfast this morning."

"All right."

"And don't mention anything about this," Heyes reminded him, nodding towards the Kid. Briscoe nodded and left the room.

Heyes turned back to his friend, an anxious frown on his face. Leaning forward, Heyes placed the back of his hand to his patient's forehead. Aside from the head injury, which might or might not be life-threatening, after being outside in the storm all night the grippe or even pneumonia would not be beyond the realm of possibility. But so far there was no sign of a fever.

"Kid?" he called, slapping his cheek. "Kid. Can you hear me?"

On receiving no response, he stood up and began to pace the room, pausing every few moments to look again for a sign of consciousness, but the Kid remained insensible.

Heyes tried to occupy his mind by working his way through all of the guests, trying to find a motive for any of them to have done this, but came up with nothing. He must be missing something, he thought to himself. Or else one of them wasn't who, or what, they claimed to be. One thing was for certain. Before he left this place he would find out who the culprit was and, if the Kid should die, he would make them pay.

Briscoe returned after breakfast to see if there was any change in the Kid's condition and to report that, on telling the guests that Joshua and Thaddeus had decided to skip breakfast, he hadn't observed any unusual reactions from anyone.

Heyes merely nodded, uninterested in anything but his comatose friend. Since Heyes wasn't in the mood for discussing the case, Briscoe made himself scarce.

The morning moved on, and still the Kid remained unconscious. Heyes was seriously worried and beginning to consider asking for a doctor to be requested. But, not only could that take some considerable time since the bad weather had returned and was preventing any use of the boat to fetch one, if they allowed the news of the Kid's injury to be broadcast to all the guests, any advantage they might have trying to draw out the culprit would be lost.

A rumble of thunder sounded overhead as he sat back down at the side of the bed and raked a hand through his hair, angry with himself for even considering holding back on sending for the doctor merely to keep the advantage for the case.

Leaning forward, Heyes once again placed the back of his hand to the Kid's forehead, checking for the umpteenth time for any sign of a fever, heaving a sigh of relief when he felt none.

He was standing by the window, gazing absently out, when a knock at the door broke into his thoughts. "It's open, Harry," he called without shifting his gaze.

Briscoe poked his head hesitantly around the door before entering fully. "It's lunchtime."

"I'm not hungry," muttered Heyes.

"Even so, I think you ought to put in an appearance; otherwise the guests are going to start asking questions."

Heyes said nothing.

"You won't be helping him or yourself by not eating. You'll just make yourself ill," said Briscoe. "It's only an hour, the Kid'll be all right here until you get back."

Heyes' angry gaze snapped onto his face. "How do you know? He could die before I get back . . ." he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Briscoe took an involuntary step backwards feeling a little intimidated by the former outlaw's demeanour.

"I'm sorry," said Heyes, noting Briscoe's uneasiness. "You're right. The other guests will start getting suspicious if neither of us shows up."

He moved to check on the Kid once more, before picking up his jacket and shrugging into it. "Let's go."

Briscoe moved to the door and, with a last look at his friend, Heyes followed.

All the other guests were already seated as Heyes and Briscoe entered the dining room.

"Mr. Jones not joining us?" enquired Constance Cornwell as they took their seats.

Heyes cleared his throat. "Er, no . . . he's feeling a little under the weather . . . a bit of a migraine." Heyes closely watched the reactions of the guests as he spoke.

"Possibly that cheese we had at dinner last night," added Briscoe, drawing a sour look from Heyes.

"Oh, dear. Perhaps he'll be well enough to join us for dinner?" suggested Miss Cornwell.

"Perhaps," said Heyes dismissively.

While they ate lunch, he and Briscoe casually interrogated the guests with innocuous questions, in the hope that someone might inadvertently give them a lead, but no one said anything out of the ordinary.

Heyes was frustrated. His partner was upstairs, possibly dying, and they were no further along in exposing the culprit than when they arrived. He pushed his food absently around his plate, wanting the lunch to be over so that he could get back.

"Are you feeling all right, Mr. Smith?" Constance Cornwell's voice brought him out of his reverie.

"Pardon?" He lifted his head to look at her.

"You've barely touched your lunch. You're not feeling under the weather too, are you?"

Heyes pasted on a smile. "I'm just not very hungry. I'm not used to eating such . . . lavish meals."

Before Miss Cornwell could reply, Trudy Teagarden let out a shriek. "Look!" She pointed towards the window.

Everyone turned, just in time to see the same white apparition as the night before disappear through the wall.

Phil Hanson turned to their host with a smile. "I don't know how you're doing that, Tom, but it's very impressive."

Ellwood smiled, somewhat apprehensively, Heyes thought, and said, "All part of the entertainment," before giving Briscoe and Heyes a glare when no one was looking.

Lunch over, Heyes made his excuses and headed back up to the Kid's room. Harry stayed downstairs to indulge in a brandy and cigar.

As he opened the door to the room, Heyes hoped to enter and find his friend awake, but found his condition still unchanged. With a sigh, he crossed to the bed and once again checked for a fever, relieved to feel a cool forehead.

Raking his hands through his hair, he sat down in the armchair by the side of the bed and studied his friend's pale face.

Why on earth had they allowed Briscoe to convince them to come here? he chastised himself. They should have known better. Everything the man got involved in usually ended in disaster. And now his friend might die because of this stupid job they'd been roped into. The thought caused a wave of anger to wash over him along with promises of retribution should the Kid die.

Getting abruptly to his feet, he paced the room, his mind flitting back and forth between concern for the Kid, possible culprits for his attack, and for the diamond robbery, memories of events – both happy and sad - from his and the Kid's past, and plans for revenge if he should die.

After a sleepless night searching for his friend, Heyes was exhausted but was too wound up to rest as he alternated between pacing the room, trying to rouse his friend, or gazing pensively out the window torturing himself with 'if onlys.'

Briscoe came by some time later and said that Ellwood had cornered him, wanting to know what they were doing about getting rid of the ghosts, and asking what they should tell him.

"Why are you asking me?" Heyes gave him a disdainful look. "Posing as ghost hunters was your idea – and a stupid one at that!"

"But . . ."

"This is your scheme, Harry, you work it out!" growled Heyes. "Right now, I could care less about Ellwood and his ghosts, or the diamond thief!"

"Er. . . right . . . er . . . sure thing . . . OK . . ." muttered Harry, wisely taking his leave.

Heyes sat heavily in the armchair by the side of the bed, blowing out his cheeks in frustration.

"That man!" he said out loud. "However he ever got to be a detective I'll never know!"

He turned to look at the Kid, to see his eyelids fluttering.

"Kid?" Heyes was on his feet in an instant. "Kid, can you hear me?" He bent to slap his cheek. "Kid! Come on, Kid, wake up!"

The Kid groaned, rolling his head from side to side.

"Kid?" Heyes called again. The Kid groaned again before his eyes fluttered open, looking blankly around the room. "Hey, Kid." Heyes's smiling face appeared in his line of vision.

Kid Curry stared at Heyes for several moments before finally muttering, "H-Heyes?"

Heyes nodded, glad that he appeared to remember who he was. After a blow to the head like the one he'd sustained there was no knowing what the aftereffects might be.

"Wh-what . . . happened?"

"I was hoping you'd be able to tell me that."

"Ooh, my head . . ." moaned the Kid as he attempted to move, but gave up as pain coursed through his head.

"Lie still." Heyes placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"How long . . . have I been out?" the Kid asked several minutes later.

"About sixteen hours, I'd guess," said Heyes. "Someone tried to cave your head in."

"Water?" muttered the Kid.

Heyes poured some water into a glass and, placing a hand behind his head, lifted his friend up enough to sip. The Kid groaned loudly at the movement. "Feels like they succeeded," he said once he'd sampled the water.

Heyes nodded. "I was beginning to think you weren't gonna make it." Though his tone was deliberately casual, as the Kid met his eyes he could see the fear and apprehension in their depths. They exchanged smiles, Heyes's slightly embarrassed at giving away his feelings, the Kid's understanding, knowing what Heyes had been going through while waiting to see if he would recover or not.

"Did you see who hit you?" Heyes asked presently.

The Kid stared at the ceiling as he tried to recall the events of the previous evening. "I remember . . . going outside to see if there was anyone around who might be responsible for setting up the ghost. It was raining pretty hard . . . and blowing a gale . . ."

Heyes nodded, waiting for him continue.

"As I went around the corner of the house, I thought I saw someone . . . running down the steps into the grounds . . . so I went to see . . ."

"Go on," prompted Heyes.

"Suddenly, someone came at me . . . I turned, to try and fight him off, but . . . he must have hit me."

"He? It was a man?"

The Kid nodded.

"Are you sure?"

The Kid nodded again. "Yes. Whoever it was, he was equally as tall as me."

"Could you tell what kind of build?"

"Dunno . . . Whoever it was had on a slicker . . . or a raincoat . . . I only saw him for a second or two . . ."

"But it was definitely a man?"

"Yes."

"Well, that narrows the suspects down a little," Heyes said, as much to himself as to the Kid.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. "Come in, Harry," called Heyes, rolling his eyes and wondering what he wanted this time.

Briscoe bustled in with an air of urgency, then stopped when he saw that the Kid was awake. "Good to see you awake, Kid," he nodded to him. "'bout time, too. Heyes here was . . ."

"What is it, Harry?" Heyes cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

"I have some information," Briscoe said proudly.

"Oh?"

"I just overheard Wethersby and Maggie talking about it downstairs."

"What?" Heyes asked, exasperatedly.

"Ellwood has a boat and it's missing. Maybe someone took it."

Heyes crossed to look out the window. The rain was still lashing down and the gale force wind was whipping the water of the lake up into large waves. "They said it wasn't safe to use a boat in this weather. So who would risk a crossing, unless it was an emergency?" he said.

"Maybe whoever hit the Kid?" Briscoe suggested.

"Good chance," Heyes nodded.

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.

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." He 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's 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, pushed its way into Heyes's 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-knows-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, afantastic 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 sometime 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 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 later - 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 just 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, 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 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," he 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 he probably hoped 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 on the grounds, he must have started to worry we might be onto him and that's why he tried to kill you. He probably planned 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 ghost at the window!

Heyes did a double take, and Briscoe's cigar fell from his mouth.

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.

"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 ain't no such thing as ghosts," Heyes said confidently. But as the three Spirit Squelchers stood watching the sunrise, none of them were really sure.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.