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2/18/13 I did not get to write much so I missed my deadline (which was yesterday) but I got Faith to postpone the editing until March. I am going to wrte today and I have tomorrow off for Cataract surgery so I hope to get some writing done then as well.
I was delayed because I was in a horendous car wreck. The other guy was driving a stolen car, had been drinking, had the cops after him, and came into my lane of traffic and hit my car head-on. Fortunately, I didn't get hurt much (though he did - both ankles broken and his hip broken - plus he will be going to jail, which is only right and proper).
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2/25/12 - Well, it's been a long time, but I will start writing on Book 4 today (Christmas - Brenda is in Colorado). I WILL have it finished in time for Faith to edit it in February.
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11/30 - I haven't written on 4 again yet. Book 2 (Burglar) is out on Amazon and I am now editing book 3 again so it can go to Faith on the 9th. I will get to book 4 after that.
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11/1/2012 - I am currently editng Book 3. I am through Chapter 9 and hope to have the entire thing finished by the end of the weekend. It is pretty dirty and will need to be done again at least once more before sending it to the Pro editor.
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The hook:
When Adam, Marti, and Livinia attend the ghost party at the Canary House apartments on New Year’s eve, they are told the story of the lost Chandler gold mine. Knowing full well that he can't leave a mystery like that unsolved, Adam starts on a quest to follow the trail of well-hidden clues that, he hopes will help him solve one of the most storied mysteries in the history of Canary Corners, West Virginia. In the process of ferreting out clues, a couple of dead bodies are found and Adam, Marti, and Bagel have to figure out who the murder is while continuing to search for the mine.
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Butter has a problem. She's afflected with a common pet disease called PICA in which the dog will eat all kind of none food items. That's how she will end up eating the drawing.
Butter also gets ahold of some chocolate (fortunately it was white chocolate) but it makes her very sick.
--------------------------------
When Adam buys Marti roses, he alsways composes a small verse. The one in this book is (he also bought her a necklace)
These flowers and this necklace are for you
I hope they prove my love is true
When we’re apart I feel the pain
But when we’re together you drive me insane.
All my love, Ram.
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“That’s right, Ram. It’s short for Robert Adam Madigan.”
“I get it. That’s cute. Did your folks anticipate the
nickname when they named you or was it just a lucky, or unlucky, accident?”
Since Adam had originally just pulled the name out of thin
air, he paused a moment before he answered. “Honestly, I don’t know if they even
thought about it. I guess they just liked the names Robert and Adam. Nobody called
me Ram until I was in junior high school.”
“Well at least it’s kind of a cute name. Sometimes kids can
come up with some really cruel names. For example, I have a friend who,
unfortunately for her, has rather big feet. One day some wise guy called her
big foot and that let to Sasquatch and from there to Sassy. Sassy by itself wouldn’t
be all that bad a nickname, but since she knows where it comes from, every time
someone calls her Sassy, it’s like they’re calling her big foot. So I don’t
call her Sassy. Her real name is Beverly or Bev. Mine, by the way, is Julie,
but everybody calls me Jules.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
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Chapter 1
“Alright,"
Harriet Thompson, said as she clapped her hands a couple of times to get
everyone's attention. “Places everyone.” Harriet was the leader of the theater
troupe and director for their performance of “A Christmas Carol.” All the
performers hurried to where they were supposed to be even though only Ebenezer
Scrooge and Bob Cratchit were on stage in the first scene. Ebenezer Scrooge was
being played by Adam Martin Swope , who was better known as Robert Adam Madigan
or Ram to the readers of the local newspaper, in Canary Corners, West Virginia,
called the Tweet. Adam was not only known because of his newspaper articles,
but also because he was the money man behind the Rambling Foundation, which
he'd started to distribute some of his massive wealth to those in the area
deserving of his monetary help.
Adam had gained much of his wealth by winning two large
lotteries; thanks to his inherited psychic abilities. The lotteries and his
stint as a finder had shown him just how valuable his abilities were.
Unfortunately, his time as a finder had also shown him how much of a toll being
a finder would have on his psyche. That's why he was now hiding from his real
name of Adam Martin Swope and his history as a finder in Canary Corners,
working for his long-time friend Larry Archibald at the Tweet for whom he
writes a column called Ram’s Ramblings, or just Rambles, which is also posted
as a blog on the internet.
This Saturday matinee performance of the play went smoother
than did the first performance before a live audience, which was done the
evening of the prior Wednesday. Naturally, a few cues were missed and a few
lines were flubbed, but, all in all, it went well. When all of the actors came
to the front of the stage for their bow after the final curtain, Harriet raised
her hand to silence the audience. “As most of you know," she began,
"Robert Adam Madigan, better known as Ram, did a marvelous job as Ebenezer
Scrooge in our play. But what some of you may not know is that the Rambling
Foundation funded by Ram is responsible for this marvelous new theater you now
find yourself sitting in.” She paused while the audience gave Ram a standing
ovation. The rest of the cast moved back so he was virtually alone on the stage
for his moment of glory. After a few moments of applause, Adam turned and swept
his hand to indicate that the applause should be for the rest of the cast as
well so they all took another bow. Adam thought he should say something, but
couldn't think what that might be so he just let the audience continue to
applaud until they tired and sat back down. Then he led the rest of the cast
off the stage.
Backstage Harriet said, "Good job, everybody. See you
tonight. Please be on time."
Everyone filed through the doors at the back of the stage
and down the few stairs to their dressing rooms. Adam was waiting in the hall
by the time his semi-constant companion Marti Blossom came out of her dressing
room. Marti and Adam had been together since the first few weeks that he'd been
a resident of Canary Corners. They'd been introduced by Marti’s great aunt, the
septuagenarian Livinia Blossom, who just happened to be Adam’s next door
neighbor on the sixth floor of the Canary House apartments where he initially
settled. Now he lived in a large house on Political Street just a few blocks away
from the Mayor's house. He‘d initially moved into the house temporarily to try
and capture a burglar that was plaguing Canary Corners. After that was
accomplished, he decided that he liked the house so much he'd moved in permanently,
paying rent to an unknown man in Charleston through a rental agency. That man
had inherited the house from the daughter of one of the prostitutes who
originally plied their trade in the infamous Cat House. His wife, who was extremely religious, decided
she wanted nothing to do with the house, because of the history of her
husband’s ancestor, and she forced him to donate it to the Rambling Foundation.
That meant, of course, that the house was actually owned by Adam. He, however,
didn't look at it that way and continued to pay rent to the foundation.
When he first moved into Canary House, Adam was told by
Livinia that it was originally the self-same Cat House and was purchased and
converted in about 1920. Three floors were added to the original three and many
other modifications and repairs were made to the building. Livinia's father was
one of the workers during the construction and the new owners liked his work so
much they hired him as the maintenance man for the apartments. When he died,
they generously allowed Livinia to stay and kept the rent low so she could
manage to pay it, being as she was, in her words, on the government dole.
Marti put her arms around Adam and gave him a brief kiss.
“You were wonderful night, Sweetheart."
"So were you.” Marti played the part of the Ghost of
Christmas Past in the play. “Shall we go?”
“Ram,” Harriet had walked up behind them without notice. “I
want to thank you and Larry for the fine article on the new theater in the
paper and the nice review of the play too, of course. Since the articles came
out yesterday, we’ve sold virtually every ticket that was left.”
“Good, I was hoping that’d happen,” Adam said. “Larry and I
thought that maybe some people who weren't all that interested in the play
might buy a ticket anyway, just so they could see the new theater. I guess that
proved to be the case.”
“Honestly, I hope that's not the case. I hope the tickets
went to those who also want to see the play. But I don't care why the tickets
were sold, I'm just glad they were sold."
“Me too,” Marti said.
“I'll give sales one more week,” Adam said, “And then
whatever tickets are left I’ll buy and give them to Marti so she can give them
to any of her students that might be interested in seeing the play but can’t
afford tickets. We’ll also arrange transportation for anyone that needs it
since the theater is a ways out of town.” The new theater had been constructed
in an old mining company store after the existing theater in Canary Corners
burned down. They did their best to locate the new theater between the local
communities to make it convenient for the actors and their audiences who lived
in the surrounding towns instead of in Canary Corners.
When Adam and Marti arrived back at Adam’s house, they put
the dogs on the back porch and let them go through the doggie door to the
backyard. Adam owned two dogs, or, as he often said, they owned him. Both
pure-bred beagles, Bagel had been owned by his mother and she bequeathed him to
Adam when she succumbed to her reoccurrence of cancer. Adam had long known that
his abilities were inherited from one of his grandmothers many times removed who
was burned at the stake in the Salem witch trials. What he hadn’t known was
that apparently she had a dog that was thought to be her familiar and one of Adams
aunts traced the genealogy of that original dog and discovered Bagel. He was
owned by a distant relative and she bought Bagel and gave him to Adam's mother.
Before she died, Adam’s mother learned of Bagel’s special abilities and even
taught him several games that most other dogs can’t play. Bagel plays colors
whereby, when asked, he can fetch a toy of a particular color from his large collection
of toys. He also plays with the dice from a Boggle game. He upends the box on
the floor, pulls a certain number of dice away from the rest, and turns them to
the appropriate letters with his paws and his nose. Adam has discovered that
the letters can most often be rearranged to form a word that has something to
do with a mystery Adam is trying to solve.
The other Beagle, a female named Butter, came into Adam's
life from the Mason Jar restaurant where it was tradition for the customers to
give the dog any butter left over from their meal. Adam knew that couldn't be
healthy for the dog, which was evidenced by her vastly overweight bulk. When
his sister Sarah told him that he needed to perpetuate the line by getting
Bagel a girlfriend and that girlfriend had to be a purebred beagle, he checked
with the restaurant owner and found out that Butter was indeed purebred. When,
he was given Butter as a favor by the owner of the restaurant for writing a
favorable review of the restaurant, he knew something had to be done. Of
course, Adam didn't write the favorable review to be awarded ownership of the
dog, he’d already written the favorable review before he proposed the change in
ownership. Since the time he’d taken Butter home, Adam had been hard at work
keeping Butter’s diet to a minimum and making sure she got at least some
exercise each day so she could trim down to a more healthy weight. Since the
plan was to breed Bagel and Butter, Adam knew Butter had to be healthy.
Unfortunately, even though Adam frequently gave Butter carrots and other
vegetables to supplement her dog food as suggested by the vet, sometime she was
apparently still hungry because he’d found her eating all sorts of things that
probably weren’t good for her including, once, chocolate. Fortunately it was
white chocolate which has less of the chemical theobromine, which is what make
dogs and other animals sick. Adam had actually written a Ramble about how bad
chocolate is for pets.
When they brought the dogs back in the house, Marti looked appreciatively
at the large Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. They’d bought the
tree together from a Boy Scout tree lot and had put it up and decorated it with
all the brand new lights, ornaments, and icicles that Adam and had bought with
Marti’s guidance. Adam had never had a Christmas tree that he could’ve actually
called his own. Of course his parents had had a tree every year when he was
growing up and there’d been trees around when he was in college, but after he’d
finished college and was on his own, he never put one up. He just hadn’t seen
the need since everywhere he turned, whether in the newspaper office, in the
lobby of whatever apartment he was living in at the time, or whatever store in
which he chose to do what little shopping he did, there were lavishly decorated
trees. He felt that whatever tree and decorations he might be able to afford on
his paltry reporter’s salary would look pretty sad by comparison and thought
coming home to that type of tree might even be depressing.
“Are you sure you won’t give me just a little hint,” Marti
said looking longingly at the packages under the tree with her name on them.
“What, and spoil the surprise. Not on your life.”
“Well, what now then, Sweatheart,” Marti said, giving up
quickly. She actually didn’t want a hint since she preferred being surprised.
She was also looking forward to his opening the presents she’d bought for him
as well as the one that had come from his sister in Maine. She’d told Marti
what was in it and though Adam had begged for a hint, Marti had been completely
silent about the contents of the package. She knew she’d enjoy his surprise
upon opening it almost as much as the surprise she’d experience upon opening
her own presents. There were also presents under the tree for each of the dogs.
She was actually surprised that they hadn’t been disturbed because she thought
the dogs could probably smell the treats in their packages. She’d caught Bagel
sniffing the packages a time or two, but that seemed to be the end of it. She’d
even seen Bagle shoo Butter away from the tree when she’d seemed intent upon
disturbing one of the packages.
“Why don’t we just relax with some music for a while? I’m
still a bit keyed up from the play.”
“Sounds like a plan. I could use a bit of relaxation
myself.”
“Shall we then,” he led the way into the living room. She
settled on the couch while he turned on the music system.
“Vivaldi, again,” she said.
“You know it’s Bagel’s favorite. Would you like something
else?”
“No, Vivaldi’s fine. But how about some Mozart after this CD
is finished?”
“That’s fine with me.” He settled next to her on the couch
and put his arm around her.
They were both dozing slightly when the CD finished so Adam
got up carefully, hoping not to disturb Marti. He went to this music system and
changed CDs, but when he turned around she was smiling at him.
“Did I disturb you Sweetheart?”
“Maybe just a little, but that's all right.” She looked at
Bagel. “Would you like to play some colors Bagel?"
Bagel raised his head, pulled back his upper lip in what
passed for a smile, but didn't move.
“I think he likes the idea,” Adam said.
"Bagel, blue," Marti said.
Bagel went over to his collection of toys, nosed through the
toys for a second or two, and then brought a blue, stuffed hippo out of the
pile and dropped it at Marty feet. “Good boy,” Marti reached down and massaged
Bagel’s ears. “His ears are so soft.”
“And he loves it so much when someone massages them.”
“I know.”
“Bagel, red,” Adam said.
Bagel went to the pile and shortly brought back of a red,
rubber alligator and dropped it at Adam's feet.
“Let's see if he's learned, orange yet,” Marti said. “Bagel,
orange."
Bagel looked up at her with what could best be described as
a look of confusion and didn't move. “Guess not,” Marti said. “Bagel,
yellow."
Bagel went back to the pile of toys and brought back a
yellow, rubber Canary and dropped it at her feet.
“I wonder if we could teach him orange,” Marti mused.
“I doubt it. Though I've not tried to expand on his
knowledge, I was told by Ryan and Sheila that dogs can't discern between orange
and yellow.” Ryan and Sheila were his sister Sarah's children. Ryan was 10 and Sheila
was eight.
“Well, I guess that answers that question, then,” Marti
said. “I’ve noticed though that when we ask him to get yellow toys, he generally
brings a yellow toy, not an orange one, though, that’s not always true.”
“You know, I think you're right. I've never noticed that.
Maybe, in that case, we could teach him orange. Maybe orange does look exactly like
yellow to him. Maybe there's just enough difference in shade, to allow him to
tell the difference.”
“How about some other day. Right now I think I want to just
relax and listen to the music.”
“Fine by me. It's wonderful just sitting here with you.”
“Thank you, Sweetheart," she had to stretch to kiss his
cheek.
“I know it's not time, but where would you like to eat
tonight?"
"I've been thinking about that. If it's all right with
you, I think I'd like to eat at Ariel’s tonight. I feel like having a
steak."
“We're on the same wave length. I was thinking the same
thing."
They continued to listen to music and doze for a couple more
hours before it was time to go eat. They’d decided they should eat early so
they could have time to come back to the house and get ready before they had to
go the theater for their nightly performance.
“I think we have time for a couple of games of Boggle,
before we go," Marti said. "It might be a good idea to wake up our
minds after relaxing all afternoon.”
“It might at that,” Adam walked over to the shelf and picked
up the Boggle shaker box. Then he walked out into the kitchen to get the
electronic timer. When he returned, he noticed that Marty had grabbed a couple
of pads of paper and pens so they could write down their words. He accepted a
pad and a pen, set down the timer, shook the box until the dice fell into the
bottom, and then asked, “Ready?"
"Absolutely.”
He reached over and turned on the timer. “Go.”
The timer was set for 3 minutes and at the end of their
time, they compared their lists of words. After eliminating the duplicates,
Adam had four four-letter words left while Marty had 2 4-letter words and 3
5-letter words left which gave her the victory.
They played two more games with Marty winning both of them.
“Boy,” Adam said, “I feel like a real dummy tonight.”
“I hardly think so. You're just not seeing the words as well
as you usually do. It happens to me sometimes like that too. You've seen it.”
“Yeah, I guess so. But now, I think it's time to get ready
to go.”
Marty glanced at the clock on the wall and agreed, so they
went into the bedroom and got into their costumes.
They arrived at the theater 10 minutes before their
appointed time and stood around talking to a couple of the other cast members
who’d also arrived a bit early.
When the cast walked to the front of the stage after the
final curtain, Harriet again gave Adam the same recognition for his part in the
creation of the new theater as she’d done earlier in the day. She’d noticed
that Rupert Nichols, the contractor responsible for the building of the
theater, was in the audience so she had him stand and accept a well-deserved
ovation as well.
Back stage, Marti went into the dressing room and came out a
few moments later with a Christmas package for Harriet. She held it behind her
back until she saw Adam come out of the men’s dressing room.
“What’s this?” Harriet said when Marti handed it to her
after Adam had joined them.
“Just a small token of Ram’s and my esteem for you to show our
thanks for all your hard work.”
“But I didn’t…”
Adam held up her hand. “Not necessary. We just wanted to
share a bit of our good fortune with you.”
“What can I say but thank you? It seems to be so
inadequate.”
“How do you know? You don’t even know what it is yet,” Adam
said.
“If it came, at least in part, from you, I’m sure it will be
lovely and, probably quite extravagant.”
“Remember, a poor teacher helped pick it out.” Marti smiled.
“Do you want me to open it now?”
“No. We want you to save it for Christmas morning,” Adam
said, “I think it’s good to feel a bit of our inner child each Christmas.”
“You’re right. It is,” Harriet smiled. “I’ll run out and put
this in my car before I set it someplace and forget it. You know how I can be.”
Neither commented on Harriet’s last comment but instead Marti
said, “Why don’t you do that. We’ll see you after Christmas for the Wednesday
performance.”
Harriet nodded and left the theater.
On Christmas day when Adam and Marti went into the living
room, Bagel had pulled all his and Butters packages from beneath the tree. He
hadn’t torn any of the wrapping paper, he had simply dragged them to the middle
of the room.
“Do you suppose he read his and Butter’s names on the
packages?” Adam cracked.
“I think it much more likely that he simply smelled them and
knew they were treats. Besides,” She said with a smile, “If he’d know who they
belonged to, wouldn’t he have separated them into two piles?”
“Yes, I suppose he would have. I was going to suggest that
we have breakfast before we open packages, but I don’t think that’s going to
work now.”
“I agree. We‘d better at least give them a treat either from
their Christmas packages or from the bag of treats we are already have."
"It’s Christmas after all. I think we ought to let them
open their packages."
“Well were going to have to watch Butter so that she doesn't
eat the paper.” Butter had shown a propensity lately to eat paper. Adam had
checked with the vet and it seemed that Butter had a condition called pica
which caused Butter to have a taste for a variety of non-food items, paper
being one of them.
“We can watch her, and Bagel to make sure that she doesn't.
But right now, I think you need your presents," Adam said.
"And you don't?"
"Well, of course I do." Adam reached under the
tree and retrieved five packages for Marti handing them to her one by one. He
also picked up the rest of the packages that he knew were for him. These he sat
on the couch and then separated Bagel’s packages from Butter’s and placed them
in front of each of the dogs. “Before you start, read the label on the packages
please.”
“Which one? You mean the one that says ‘Open me first?’”
“Of course I do."
"Does that mean it’s a camera like that old television
ad?”
“Well, now you'll just have to open the package and see
won't you?”
She did just that, being careful not to rip the paper.
“Don't tell me you're a paper saver.”
“But it's such pretty paper.”
“But opening it like that takes away half the fun of opening
presents," he said as he ripped the paper off one of his presents. “Hang
on just a second.” He got up and went into the kitchen and returned with a
plastic trash bag. He shoved the wrapping from his present into the bag. “We
need to be careful not to leave paper lying around that Butter might try to
eat. As I understand it, Christmas wrapping is even more toxic than regular
paper."
“All right,” Marti said and shoved her paper into the bag. When
she opened the box she was holding and saw the pearl necklace she caught her
breath. “Oh my God,” she said, “I assume these are real?”
“Would I give anything else to the woman I love?”
“I know I was admiring them in Laurent’s, but I really
didn't expect…” He’d gone with her into Laurent’s jewelry store several weeks
ago when she needed a new watch band. She got up, went over the where he was
sitting in the chair, gave him a kiss, and held the necklace out for him to put
around her neck.
He did so and then smiled, “Very lovely.”
She looked down at them, put her hand on them under her
chin, “They certainly are.”
“I wasn’t referring to the pearls, although they’re nice
too.”
They opened the rest of their gifts and opened the bags of
treats for the dogs. Adam and Marti each gave each of the dogs one treat. Adam
had given Marti a pearl bracelet and earrings to go with the necklace and he
had also given her a blouse of her favorite color, lavender, and several other
items of clothing. For his part, he’d received several shirts, one in lavender,
a new watch since he’d misplaced his old one, and a new dice game she’d found
since she knew he liked to play Yatzee.
Chapter 2
On Friday before the last play performance, Larry had Adam
meet him in his office in the afternoon. “Are you glad the play performances
are almost finished?"
"Sort of. I like performing, but it’ll be nice, to
climb back down into my rut."
"Are you trying to say you find writing for the Tweet
boring?"
“Not at all. Perhaps rut was the wrong term to use. That
implies I don't like my life, and I definitely do. All I meant is it'll be nice
to get back to my ordinary life without the obligation of being at the theater
five times a week. But enough about that, what did you want to see me
for?"
"I know you know the story of Canary house and its
ghosts.”
“Of course I do since I wrote a Ram’s Ramblings on it.”
Ram’s Ramblings was the name of Adam’s sporadic column that he’d agreed to
write for Larry under the condition that he could write absolutely anything he
wanted. “I think I know where you’re headed. Supposedly one of the prostitutes
died in a closet in the Cat House New Year's Eve, and her ghost supposedly
shows up in the same closet every New Year's Eve making noise and so on.”
“That's the story."
"Did you investigate last New Year's Eve?"
"I was going to have Alex do it last year, but he came
down with a bad case of the flu a few days before hand. I tried to send someone
else, but I couldn't talk anyone else into it. They all had logical excuses,
but I think they were basically afraid to go. I even tried to bribe them with
the champagne party, but no one would volunteer."
Adam looked slightly confused so Larry tossed a folded copy
of the Tweet to Adam. Adam, briefly looked over the page, that he was sure,
Larry wanted him to see.
"I've seen the ad.” It was an ad put in the paper by
Canary House. There was to be a champagne and finger food celebration in the
meeting room in the lobby for which outside guests would pay $20 and residents
of Canary House would be charged $15. Then everyone who didn't live in Canary
House but wanted to come in just to witness whatever was going to happen with
the ghost had to pay a five dollar admittance fee. The ad had a headline stating
that everyone could go up to the second floor to hear Dorothy do her thing in
the closet. “Do they do this every year?"
"I can't say. They did it last year. And, as I said, I
even tried to bribe the reporters by paying to get them into the party but no
takers."
“Well why didn't you go?"
“It's not my place. I'm not a reporter anymore. I run the
newspaper. I'm supposed to get other people to write the articles."
"So, let me guess. You want me to go.”
“I do, unless you're afraid."
“Are you going to pay my admittance fee for the party?”
“Boy, sometimes you can really be a cheapskate.”
“Is that the pot calling the kettle black?”
“Never mind. I think you can afford to pay your own way into
the party.”
“All right, if you insist. And you know darn good and well I
don't believe in ghosts. Therefore, why should I be afraid?"
“So you'll do it?"
"I absolutely will. What time does Dorothy supposedly
start her ghostly whatever?”
“I’ve heard it’s anywhere from 9:30 to 11:00 but never later
than that, and the whatever is supposed to be moans, screams, and other sounds
you’d associate with someone in pain.”
“Okay, I’ll be sure to be there early and I’ll take my
digital recorder to see what I can get. Do you want me to write it up for a
regular column, or would you like it to be a Ram’s Ramblings?"
“Either way. But, honestly, it might be better if it was a
Ramble since people are getting used to your column and it’s become one of the
most popular features in the paper. A random article, even under your byline, might
not have the same impact as a Ramble.”
“Works for me. I assume I can take someone else with me.”
“You need someone there to hold your hand?”
“That would be nice, but not for the reason you're implying.
I think Marti might enjoy going, especially since Livinia lives in Canary
house. I've never asked Livinia, or Marti for that matter, if they’ve been around
when the ghost supposedly appears in the closet, but Livinia did tell me that
she's never seen one of the ghosts.”
“Well, perhaps they're scared. Besides, this is not a ghost
to be seen."
“I understand that and I suppose it's possible they’re
scared, but I highly doubt it. Marti and I once talked about ghosts and she
doesn't believe in them any more than I do."
"They might find the experience exhilarating
then."
“They might at that and I'm certainly willing to ask them.”
“Since New Year's Eve’s on Monday this year, can I expect a
column by Wednesday?”
“I should be able to manage that."
Since Marti was an English teacher at the local high school,
she‘d been on Christmas break since December 17th and had been
staying with Adam most of that time. She’d gone to her house to do some
paperwork for school while Adam visited with Larry, but she was there when he
got home. He gave her a quick kiss and then said, “Got any plans for New Year’s
Eve?”
“Why, do you have plans that don’t include me?”
“I certainly hope not, though I do have plans. I hope
they’ll include Livinia as well.”
“Okay, enough beating around the bush, out with it.”
“Have you or Livinia or both ever been at the appropriate
place in Canary House to hear the New Year’s Eve ghost?”
“Now you know I don’t believe in ghosts, so no, I haven’t
been there on New Year’s Eve other than to be with Aunt Livinia in her
apartment. And I’m pretty sure she hasn’t been down to listen for the ghost
either.”
“Well, would you like to this year. Larry wants me to go a write
a column on what happens. Do you think Livinia would be interested in going
with us if I can talk you into it?”
“From what I’ve heard, the hallway where the ‘Ghost Closet’ becomes
a real circus on New Year’s Eve.” Marti indicated the quotation marks in her
sentence by making two finger indications in the air.
“So they actually call it a ‘Ghost Closet?’”
“That’s the name I’ve heard. I’ll go with you. It might be
an interesting experience, but I don’t know if Aunt Livinia will want to go. At
her age she doesn’t really like crowds anymore.”
“I don’t think age has anything to do with disliking crowds.
I don’t like them either. I’ve found, though, that sometimes you just have to
put up with them to go somewhere you want to go or to see something you really
want to see.”
“True enough. Would you like to go over to Canary House and
ask her if she’d like to go with us?”
“I have a better idea. We haven’t taken her out to eat for a
while since we’ve been involved with the play, so how would it be if we invite
her to the Mason Jar or anywhere else she’d like to go.
“I think that’s an excellent idea. I’ll call her,” and Marti
took out her cell phone and speed-dialed Livinia’s number.
“Hello Aunt Livinia this is Marti.”
“You think I not know your voice,” Livinia said.
“No, I’m sure you know my voice by now. Adam and I’d like to
invite you out for supper at the Mason Jar or wherever else you’d like to go if
you’re not busy this evening.”
“I not busy, and like to go. Thanks for invite.”
“It was Adam’s idea. Specifically because he and I have
something we need to ask you.”
“What be?”
“We’ll save that for tonight. What time’d be good for you?””
“”Six be okay if okay by you.”
“Six it is then. See you.” She turned to Adam, “You heard?”
“We pick her up at six.”
“That’s right.”
“What would you like to do in the meantime since we have a
couple of hours to kill?”
“I know you like to play Boggle, but do you ever play other
word games like Scrabble or Upwords.”
“I used to play Scrabble with my sister when I was a kid,
but I haven’t played in years and I don’t know what Upwords is.”
“It’s kind of a neat game. You put letters on a square board
and score points by stacking the letters making words in multiple directions.
“Either one sounds fun, but I'm afraid I don't have either
game.”
“That's all right," Marti said, "I have both of
them in the car. I thought we might need something to do this afternoon.”
“Good plan. You want me to go get them for you?"
"Not necessary. Why don't you take the dogs out on the
back porch and see if they need to go out while I get the games from the
car?"
"I can do that. Why don’t you set up Scrabble since I
already know how to play that. We can try Upwords another day.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.” She headed for the front door.
Adam turned to where the dogs were laying and said,
“Alright, Butter, what’re you eating this time.” Marti turned back around and
Adam added, “Butter’s eating paper again.” He noticed the trash can. “Darn, I
forgot to put the waste basket up on the desk.” He’d gotten in the habit of always
putting it on the desk to keep Butter from eating paper. Since he still needed
to keep Butter on her diet for a while longer, he’d learned he had to be
careful to not leave anything sitting around that she could interpret in some
way or other to be food. How she found any nutrition in paper, he couldn’t
fathom, but he’d caught her eating it several times.
“Well you’d better get the rest of it from her,” Marti
turned back around and continued her trek to her car.
"I will, but I think I'll call Maggie to see if she's
come up with any ideas how to keep Butter from eating paper. It can't be good
for her." Adam reached down and pulled the remnant of the envelope of a
solicitation that he’d thrown away earlier when he’d gone through the mail. As
Marty went through the front door, he dialed Dr. Maggie Ridley's phone number.
She’s that he’d taken butter to when he first got her. The receptionist put him
through to the doctor immediately.
“Maggie, this is Ram."
"Ram, so nice to hear from you. Are Butter and Bagel doing
okay?"
“More or less. But Butter’s still eating paper. I know you
told me that it's a sort of disease called pica when dogs eat non-food items.
But other than spraying all paper items with Tabasco sauce or something like
that, is there any other thing that you can suggest?"
“The only thing I can suggest is to take butter to a specialist called a Certified Applied Animal Behaviorist. That's
someone who's sort of a pet psychologist. Is she eating any other nonfood items
besides paper?"
"I've caught her eating bits of the tree
branches that seemed to continually fall from the trees in the backyard. And of
course she eats grass and weeds like most folks do. But I think that's a fairly
normal behavior isn’t it. Don't they eat grass when their stomach is upset?”
“That's true. Sometimes they do it in an attempt to
make themselves vomit when they are feeling sick. With some dogs it helps to
improve their digestion. They may also eat grass to help get rid of worms or
help them over some other kind of stomach problem. As long as Butter only eats
grass occasionally, it’s nothing to be concerned about. But her eating paper
does sort of bother me. I assume you’re doing what you can to keep paper away
from her as we discussed and continuing to supplement her diet with carrots and
other vegetables.”
“Of course I am to both,” Adam turned as Marti came
back into the house. “Unfortunately, I sometimes forget and leave the waste
basket beside the desk and the next thing I know, I find her chowing down on
something that was in the trash.”
“Well, as I said, the only other thing I can suggest
is a specialist.”
“Is there one anywhere close that you can suggest?”
“The only one I know of is Dr. Sylvia Jackson
in Charleston. I’ve given her name to a couple of other people and they have
reported that she helped somewhat.”
“Well, I’ll have to give that some thought. I wouldn’t mind
taking her to a specialist, of course, but I don’t know about a pet
psychologist. That sounds a bit odd to me.”
“By and large, my research and studying that I’ve done tell
me that it’s a reputable profession and that they can sometimes help. Of
course, it doesn’t always help just like when a human goes to a psychologist,
sometimes the person doesn’t get any better.”
“As I said, I’ll have to give it some thought.”
“You do that. Be sure to give me a call if I can help any
other way.”
“Naturally.” He hung up and turned to Marti, “She suggested
taking Butter to a pet psychologist.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know. I’m going to have to think about that one. I
don’t necessarily put a lot of stock in human psychologists so you can imagine
how I feel about one for pets.”
“Why don't you like psychologists?"
"It's not that. I just think the mind is such a
wondrous and enigmatic thing that I don't really think anyone can delve into
the mysteries of anyone's mind and solve them.”
“They may not be able to solve everyone’s problems, but
don't you think that psychologists might be able to help some people?”
“I really can't say. I think that sometimes a psychologist
might be handy when someone just needs somebody else to talk to. I know
sometimes that just talking out a problem can help solve it.”
“I think that’s may be what the psychologists think too.”
“We could hash this one out for hours and probably not come
up with a definitive opinion. The real question is do we think that a pet
psychologist is a viable choice for Butter.”
“If we go on the premise that a psychologist does a the most
good for those who need to talk out a problem and, as far as I know, Butter
doesn’t talk…” she paused to let her point sink in.
“On that basis, you would be right. I guess I’m back to what
I told Maggie, that I’ll have to think about it.”
“Well, why you think, can we play a game of Scrabble or
Upwords?”
“Sure, why not. As I said earlier, let’s play Scrabble. We
can set it up on the kitchen or dining room table. Why don’t you set it up. I
still haven’t taken to dogs out.” He did that while she set the game up on the
kitchen table. It was all laid out with the tiles mixed up when he came back
in. As he sat down at the table, Bagel and Butter continued on into the living
room.
“Shall we?” Marti picked up her first tile and showed Adam a
D.
He picked up his first tile and it was an N. “”I guess that
means you get the first word.”
“Guess so,” and she picked her other six tiles. She studied
her tiles for a while and then put the word DONUT on the board.
“Just a minute. Is that really a word? I thought donut was
spelled D O U G H N U T.”
“Actually, either spelling is correct. I know, because it’s
come up before in one of my classes. The word was originally spelled D O U G H
N U T since it is made from dough, but, at one point, someone started spelling
it D O N U T and now either spelling is considered correct. This is just
another example of why English is such a difficult language to learn.”
“I’ve heard that and, based on how many words are spelled
the same as other words, how many words that are spelled differently that sound
the same, and other more or less nonsensical rules of English, I’d agree that
English is tough. It seems I pick up something new every time I read a book or
magazine. Ah, there we go,” he picked up five of his tiles that he’d been
studying while they talked and made the word DOUBLE building off the D in
DONUT.
They continued to play for the next hour and when they were
finished, Marti won with 235 points to Adam’s 190 points.
With scarcely a word, Adam dumped the tiles on the table,
they turned them face down, mixed them up and chose their first letter again.
This time Adam stated but, by the end of the game, Marti had won again. They
played two more games with Adam finally winning the last one, but only by three
points.
He shook his head, “You’re just too good for me.”
“What do you mean? You won that time.”
“Maybe, but by the barest of margins and you stomped me the
other times. You also win most of our Boggle games. Maybe I shouldn’t let you
teach me the other game. What was it called?” He looked at her.
“Upwords. It’s sitting here,” she picked up the box from the
chair beside her where it had been hidden from Adam’s view by the table. “But I
can’t believe you’re going to wimp out on me.”
“I was just kidding. You should know by now I only care
about playing the game not about who wins.”
“I know.” She glanced at the clock. “But we don’t have time
right now. We need to get ready so we can pick up Aunt Livinia by six.”
Adam glanced at the clock as well. “You’re right. We’d
better get ready.” He grabbed the top of Scrabble box, held it under the edge
of the table, a swept the tiles into it. Then he folded up the board, put it in
the box, put the tile holder in, and poured the tiles in it before closing the
box and putting it on top of the Upwords box on the chair.
Marti got up and walked toward the bedroom and Adam
followed.
“Hello Livinia,” Adam said when she answered his knock.
“Evenin’,” she said.
“Are you ready?” Marti said.
“Am. Let me grab coat.” She ducked back inside and was out
the door shortly. She locked the door and led the way to the elevator.
“Did you decide where you would like to eat?” Adam asked.
“Choose Mason Jar if okay.”
“Of course it’s okay,” Marti said. “You know we both like
it.”
“I too,” she said as the elevator doors creaked open. “What
to know?”
“I’ll let Adam tell you.”
“I have been asked to write a Ramble on the goings on around
the supposed closet ghost on New Year’s Eve. Marti’s going to keep me company and
we’re wondering if you’d like to go with us, though, you, of course, don’t have
to go far, just down a couple of floors. ”
“Would.”
“You would? That’s nice. Have you been there before?”
“I went once a few years ago, but when I saw the crowd, I went
back upstairs.”
“And you’re sure you want to brave the crowd this year?”
Adam asked.
“It will be better with you. Maybe you can keep the crowd
back.”
“We can try,” Marti said, “But that’s about all we can
promise. I’ve not been so I’m not sure how bad the crowd will be.”
“That’s alright. We find out together.”
“That we shall,” Adam said.
Chapter 3
Adam and Marti decided that they’d go to Canary House at 8 to
see what was happening but that they wouldn't get Livinia until a bit later.
They didn't want her to have to endure the crowds any longer than necessary.
There was a line of about 10 people when they'd parked and
walked up to the door. They seemed to be in excited and animated conversations.
The line was moving slowly and then someone shouted “Ram’s here. Make way.” Several
people moved aside and an unobstructed path to the front door was formed where
Trudy Hammerschmidt,, the Canary House manager, was taking admission.
"Ram. So nice to see you. You come to hear Dorothy's
ghost."
"We did," Adam said, "But how did you come by
the name Dorothy. When I and others researched my column on Canary House, we
couldn’t find anyone who knew her name. I guess no one thought to ask you."
"I know 'cause my grandmother knew her. Don't get the
wrong idea, though. Grandma didn't work at the Cat House, she just knew Dot
before she started working there and they became and stayed friends even after
Dot was working there. Grandma was already married to Grandpa when she met
Dot."
"So your grandmother knew her as Dot rather than
Dorothy?" Adam said.
"Yes, but I’d better just let you in. We're holding up
the line."
"How much for the two of us?" Adam indicated Marti
by grabbing and raising her hand.
"For you and your lady friend, nothing. I presume
you're going to write an article about Dot." Trudy grabbed Adam’s right
wrist and encircled it with a tag, the ends of which stuck together. Adam
looked at it and Trudy said, "That's for getting into the champagne and
food party."
"I see."
Marti raised her arm and Trudy put one on her wrist as well.
Marti and Adam went into the building hand-in-hand
Even though Adam had lived in Canary House in the past, he
wasn’t sure he knew where the conference room was. He didn't have to wonder
long, however, since there was a rather large crowd milling around in the
hallway. He led Marti down the hall and into the room. He leaned over and said
in a voice loud enough she could hear over all the other voices in the room,
"Larry said if I was scared, I could take someone to hold my hand. I'm not
scared, but I certainly picked the right person to hold my hand."
"And I'm glad you did," she had to speak loudly as
well.
Adam glanced around the room and recognized several faces.
There were a couple of people he recognized as actors who’d been in the play,
Carl Everett, the director of the local funeral parlor, and, much to his
surprise, Sheriff Daniel Stibbens was there. He was in street clothes rather
than his uniform and he had a glass of champagne in one hand and a plate of
finger food in the other.
“Chief,” Adam walked up to the sheriff, “Might’ve known I'd
find you here at the goodies table stuffing your face.”
“I’m paying my fee so I'm entitled.
“Are you here to protect the people from the ghost?"
“Wouldn’t I need my gun if I was going to do that?” Daniel
was smiling.
"So you’d shoot the ghost?” Marti asked.
“I don’t think so,” Daniel said. “Hasn’t the ghost suffered
enough?”
“Don’t tell me you actually believe in this nonsense,
Chief?”
“Of course I don’t. I’m only here because I think the
happenings are kind of interesting. Besides, Trudy let me in for free if I
volunteered to keep the crowd from becoming too rowdy. That’s the fee I was
referring to. I’ve actually been here a couple of times in the past for the
same reason.”
“And does Dorothy always make an appearance?” Adam asked.
“She doesn’t appear, she only makes noise in the closet.
Once someone even opened the closet, but, as you might expect, nothing was
found and the noises stopped after that. I have heard that noises have been
heard every year as far back as anyone can remember.”
“Does she start rattling her chains the same time each
year?” Adam said.
“No, and she doesn’t rattle chains. This isn’t an episode of
‘A Christmas Carol’ after all. The only thing I’ve ever heard are a few screams
and some moaning and groaning.”
All of a sudden someone from across the room hollered “Adam!”
Immediately the question crossed Adam’s mind who would be
calling him Adam. All the people in Canary Corners knew him as Ram. Then he
recognized the face of the man approaching him. He reached out a hand as the
man walked up. The other did not take the proffered hand.
“Anton what’re you doing here?” Before he could answer Adam
continued with, “And please call me Ram like everyone does.”
A quizzical look crossed Anton’s face, but he said, “Okay,
if you say so. What kind of scam are you running here, Ram?”
Adam turned to Marti, “Marti, I’d like you to meet Anton
Didier, a friend from Chicago.”
Marti held out her hand and Anton did shake hers. “Any
friend of Ram’s,” Marti said, “But what did you mean by ‘scam?’”
Before Anton could answer, Adam said, “Marti, if you’ll
please excuse us, I think I need to talk to Anton and it really is too noisy in
here. We’ll be back in a few” And before Marti could respond, Adam grabbed
Anton rather roughly by the arm and led him from the room and out of the
apartment building. Once they were outside, Anton shook free of Adam’s grip.
“What’re you doing here?” Adam said quietly so anyone within
earshot wouldn’t overhear and he continued to walk to the parking lot so they
might be alone, “The last time I saw you you were in Chicago charging people
exorbitant prices for your finder services.”
Anton followed Adam. “I’m still in Chicago and I only charge
people what they can easily afford. After all, not everyone can use their
psychic abilities to win lotteries like you did. But what happened to you? One
day you were stealing my clients and the next you were gone.”
“You and I both know that being a finder is not easy on the
psyche. After rescuing a small girl from her pedophile teacher I’d decided I'd
had enough and went to Mexico.”
“So what’re you doing here?”
“I had to come back to the states because my mother's cancer
reoccurred. My friend and former colleague had purchased the newspaper here in
Canary Corners and offered me a job so I decided to stay. The people hereabouts
don't know who I really am.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don't want to be a finder anymore.”
“I guess that answers my next question. You are going to
stay here, aren't you? I was getting awful tired of you pirating my business.”
“I'll stay here as long as you or someone else doesn't ruin
it for me. Therefore, I suggest you call me Ram like everyone else does. I have
no intention of going back to Chicago unless the people here discover who I
am.”
“Gotcha, Ram. I won't tell anybody. The last thing I would want
to do is mess up your little setup so you might feel compelled to come back to
Chicago and start ruining my business again. It's hard enough convincing people
to pay for my finder services without you offering the same services for free.”
“You and I both know that I don't believe a finder should be
charging for their services.”
“We really don't have to get into that discussion again. As
long as you stay here, you won't be interfering with my business and I
certainly won't tell anyone where you are. I'd much rather you keep hiding here
rather than return to Chicago.”
“Okay. Now what do we do about what you said in there?” Adam
pointed to the apartment building.
“You mean about the scam?”
“I do.”
“What do the people here think you do?"
"As I said, I work for a newspaper. I write a column
called Ram’s Ramblings."
“Thus, I presume that the people here knew you used to be a
reporter in Chicago?"
"They do."
"Well, how about if we just tell the lady and guy you
were with, and anyone else who might’ve overheard, that I said scam because I
work for the Tribune and you used to scoop me on stories all the time.”
“That might work.”
“Okay,” Anton turned to walk back into the apartment house.
“Hold on a second. You haven’t told me what you’re doing
here.”
“It’s pretty simple really. My dad lives in Pittsburg. I was
visiting him for Christmas and my uncle, who also lives in Pittsburg, had gone
on vacation in this area so he heard of your ghost and told Dad who passed it
on to me. I thought it’d be interesting to come see what all the hype was
about. Little did I know that I’d run into you.”
“How long are you going to stay?”
“I was only planning on tonight. I just got here today and
was planning on starting back tomorrow.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I got a room in the Canary Motel out on Ridge Road.”
“Good. That’s a nice place. By the way, the guy that I was with
when you walked up is the county sheriff and the chief of police of Canary
Corners.”
“And that matters because….”
“It doesn’t. I just thought you might like to know. Well,
shall we go back in?”
“Might as well. I think I can handle whatever questions the
sheriff and your lady friend might throw at me.”
“Okay,” Adam led the way back into the apartment building
and over to where Marti waited.
“Now what was this about a scam?”
“Anton works for the Chicago Tribune and I used to scoop him
all the time and he always accused me of perpetrating some kind of scam to get
witnesses to talk to me that wouldn’t talk to him.”
“I see,” she glanced at her watch. “It’s almost 9:00. Maybe
we’d better go get Aunt Livinia.” Then she turned to Anton, “Would you like to
go with us? It’s alright isn’t it Adam?”
“Of course it is, if Anton wants to.”
“Thanks for the invitation. Since I don’t know anybody else
here, I’d like to join you if you’re sure it’s all right. I don’t want to
intrude, but I don’t really know much about what’s about to happen and being
with someone knowledgeable would be helpful.”
“I hate to disillusion you,” Adam said, “But we don’t know
much either. This will be the first time for all of us.” He turned to Marti
grabbing her hand, “Shall we?”
“I think we’d better. Aunt Livinia will be be wondering
where we are.”
Hand-in-hand they exited the conference room and went to the elevator where they had to wait behind
a number of people. Anton followed them. “Guess we’ll have to wait out turn,”
Marti said.
“Don’t they have stairs?” Anton asked.
“They do,” Adam said, “But Livinia lives on the sixth floor
and I’m afraid I don’t feel quite that spry tonight.”
“Sorry, didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t. But we shouldn’t have to wait long, I
image most of these people are only going to two since that is where Dorothy is
supposed to do her thing.” Almost as soon as Marti finished, several people
decided not to wait and heading down the hall to the stairs.
They still had to wait for two elevator loads before it was
their turn. Five other people got in when they did and Adam said, “Two?”
One of the others said, “Yes, Please.”
Adam pushed the buttons for two and for six. All five of the
others got off at two while Marti, Adam, and Anton went up to six. Adam looked
out and noticed how crowded the hall was.
When Adam knocked on the door the Livinia's apartment, she
opened the door, spied Anton, and said, "Who this?"
Anton reached out his hand and said, "My name is Anton,
dear lady, and you must be Livinia."
“If must be, guess am,” she smiled and shook his hand.
“Are you ready Livinia?" Adam asked.
"Am."
“Shall we go then? I think we’ll have to wait for the
elevator though.”
They walked over by the elevator and Adam pushed the call
button. It didn't take long until they heard the squeak and groan of the
elevator arriving at their floor. “It must have been on its way up
already," Marti said.
“That's not too much of a surprise,” Adam said, "Since
there are a lot of people wanting to get to the second floor. Of course, if
they started the elevator to the second floor and we pushed the button for six,
the elevator would keep coming. So, I'm guessing we hit it lucky." Adam
finished just as the doors opened.
When the elevator opened on the second floor, Livinia took
one look at the crowd, and said, "Don't know ‘bout this.”
“Don't worry, Livinia," Adam said, "We’ll protect
you."
Adam guided her off the elevator and then immediately got in
front of her to split the crowd so they could make their way to the front. When
they got near the closet where Dorothy was supposed to appear, they noticed a
large sign on the door. It read, "Please do not open the door. You will
drive Dorothy away.”
“Hello, Ram,” Rachael Aragon, Adam’s next-door neighbor on
political Street said. "Are you here to write a column about
Dorothy?"
"I am. Larry wanted someone to write an article last
year, but he couldn't get any takers.”
“So you got elected this year."
"I did.” Adam said having to scratch the end of his
nose which generally meant something bad or at least unexpected was about to
happen.
Just then they heard an eerie moan that started as a low
rumble and grew to a high-pitched whine that caused a lot of people to cover their
ears. Most people move away from the closet which made the hall even more
crowded around Livinia, Adam, Marti, and Anton. “Excuse me," Adam said
when someone stepped on his foot.
The man turned around and said, "Oh, excuse me Ram. I
didn't mean to step on your foot."
“That's all right, Walter. No harm done.” Adam recognized
Walter Harper, owner of a lumber yard in Frozenville, that he'd met during a
poker game at his house several months before which was arranged by Tom
Stevens, the sports reporter for the tweet.
The moaning, whining, and the occasional scream continued, and
there was now even a banging on the door coming from inside the closet. This
cacophony continued for several minutes when all of a sudden, a man stepped
from his spot in the crowd and reached over to open the door. When he did so, a
body fell from the closet, and several women screamed including Livinia. Adam
hurried over but knew immediately that the body wasn't a body at all but a
manikin instead.
“What is this?” The man who opened the closet said loudly.
“That darn thing nearly scared me to death.” The sounds from the closet had stopped
the moment the door had been opened.
“The sign warned you not to open the door, Jeremiah,”
someone else said, laughing loudly. In a few seconds, the entire crowd was
laughing and several people were applauding.
Everyone stood around for a few more minutes until one by
one, they realized nothing else was going to happen and people started to wander
away to the elevator or the stairs.
“Who do you suppose is responsible for that manikin in the
closet?" Marti asked.
"My guess would be Trudy," Adam said, “Though I'm
not sure what she hoped to accomplish.”
“Perhaps you're going to have to ask her.” Anton said.
“Maybe so, but I think we'd better take Livinia home
first," Adam said.
The three followed Adam to the elevator. He didn't have to
push the up button since it’d already been pushed. It took just a few seconds
for the elevator arrived and two people got on in front of them and four more
people got on behind them. The elevator stopped at the third floor and four
people got off, and then it stopped at the forth floor and the other two people
got off. When it reached the sixth floor, Adam said, “Anton, stay on the
elevator and hold it for us while Marty and I take Livinia to her apartment.”
“Sounds good. Then we won't have to wait for it again.”
“That's the idea.”
Anton leaned against the door so it wouldn't close while
Adam and Marti accompanied Livinia to her apartment. The three of them were all
back on the elevator and on the way down to the first floor in just a few
seconds.
Adam walked to the front door of the apartment building but,
as he thought, Trudy was no longer taking admission. Therefore, he walked to
her apartment followed closely by Marti and Anton. She answered as soon as he
knocked and she ushered the three of them to her apartment.
“I can guess why you're here,” she said.
“Yes, we were wondering why you put the manikin in the
closet.” Adam said.
“Just trying to bring a little excitement to the event,” she
said with a shrug.
“But do you really think you need to scare people half to death
to bring a little excitement?”
“Were they really that scared?”
“Startled would be more like it. In the end, most of them
thought it was funny.” Marti said.
“So there was no harm done.”
“I suppose not, but it really was a nasty thing to do,” Adam
said.
“But it may cause them to come back next year to see what’ll
happen.”
“It might at that. Unfortunately, I don’t know how I’m going
to write this up.”
“It’s okay with me if you just tell the truth.”
“Including the part about how the sounds are not from a ghost
but from some hidden speakers in the closet,” Adam was just throwing out the
theory that’d been bouncing around in his mind for the last few minutes.
Trudy was obviously taken aback. “But how’d you know that?”
“I didn’t, but since I don’t really believe in ghosts it was
a logical conclusion.”
“I’m not going to try to tell you what you can and cannot
write in your Ramble, since I have no say-so anyway, but I’d appreciate if you
leave that part out.”
“Well, I don’t know. It is part of the story after all.”
“How about if I offer you a bribe?”
“Now Trudy,” Adam sadly shook his head, “You know I’m rich
and whatever you might be able to offer would not impress me.”
Trudy smiled and winked, “I wasn’t intending to offer you
money but information that you might find interesting and, perhaps, enticing.”
“I’m listening,” Adam said and the looks on Marti’s and
Anton’s faces showed their interest as well.
“I know you know the history of how Dorothy died, and based
upon your article in the paper a few months ago, you also know a little about
the other prostitute, whose name was Gertrude, or Gerty, was killed in the Cat
House.”
“Only what I’ve been told.”
“Well, maybe I can add a little to your knowledge. Did you
know, for example, that the man who killed her was a prospector?”
Adam looked at Marti who shook her head and then said, “No.
I’ve never heard that. But what’s that got to do with anything and why might I
consider that information vital enough to accept as a bribe.”
“Because there’s more to the story. He got drunk that night
because he was celebrating. Guess what he was celebrating.”
Adam looked thoughtful, “Well, considering he was a prospector
I’d guess he was celebrating a gold strike.”
“You got it. And,” she said with a big grin, “His claim was
never filed nor found after his death. Based on what he bragged about to some
of the other people in the Cat House that night, it was very rich strike.”
“Okay, you’ve piqued my interest, but where are you going
with this?"
“Well, I know something that not a lot of other people know.
According to what I've heard, he drew a map to his gold mine that he buried in
a small box which has also never been found.”
“Okay, Adam said pulling out the notepad he always carried
just in case, "I assume there's more."
"Of course there is. He didn't trust his memory about
where he buried the box, so he drew directions for finding the box on the hand
grip of his pistol. His pistol had a pearl handle. He'd won the gun in a poker
game and it was his pride and joy.”
“And what happened to the gun?"
"It was buried with him. But, when the body was found,
the side of the pearl handle that had directions to the map had broken into
three pieces. Each of the two people that found his body and buried him took
one of the pieces and left the third piece on the gun with the body. They
apparently tried to remove it, but it wouldn’t come loose so they left it. I
guess their thought was to go back later to get the last piece. They apparently
never got the chance to go back and since the body’s never been found, the
three pieces have never been joined. Thus, nobody’s ever had the directions to
where the box is buried.”
“Okay," Adam said, “I'll bite. Where are the two pieces
that weren't left with the body?"
“Well now, that's part of the mystery. Nobody really knows.”
“Well, who found the body? Do you know?” Marti chimed in.
“That’s never been known, but me and a friend have been
doing some research and I think maybe we've figured it out. The prospector's
name was Butch Chandler and he was married to a full blooded Hopi Indian woman
whose name was Honovi, which I believe means ‘Strong Deer.’, not that that has
to do with anything. My friend’s been doing research for a doctorate on the
Hopi Indians and he came across an Indian named Honovi Chandler from the late 1800s.
She was apparently pregnant when her husband died. There isn't any record of who
Honovi Chandler’s husband was, but since her last name was Chandler and Butch
Chandler had a full blooded Hopi Indian wife, it isn't too hard to figure out
that she must've been his wife and Honovi’s daughter must’ve been Butch's
daughter. Now, as it turns out, Honovi’s daughter, had two daughters and a son
of her own. The two daughters died a long time ago, but her son’s still alive,
though he's over 80 years old.”
“But what's all that got to do with the map to the gold
mine?” Anton asked.
“Who is this?” Trudy looked as if she’d just noticed Anton
for the first time and asked, “Should I be telling you all this in front of
him?"
"He’s all right,” Adam said. “He's an old friend from
Chicago. Go on with the story."
“Well, according to the records my friend uncovered, Honovi
found and buried her husband. The other person helping to bury her husband just
so happened to be Kitty Sheridan. I do believe you know who she was.”
Adam nodded and Marti said, "Isn't she the one who
owned your house, Ram?"
“Correction,” he said, “She owned the foundation’s house.”
He turned back to Trudy. “So you're saying that the records indicate that
Honovi and Kitty each had a part of the directions to where the box with the
map in it was buried on the piece of the gun grip they took with them.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Where they are now nobody seems to
know. Nor does anyone know where Chandler’s body is buried. So, even if you
could somehow get your hands on Honovi and Kitty’s pieces, you wouldn’t have
any way to get the third piece. But, even though that’s true, don’t you think
it’s an interesting story?”
“It is indeed,” Adam said. “In fact, it’s interesting enough
that I’ll forget about how the ghostly sounds are artificially generated.”
“Oh good,” Trudy said. “Thank you so much. If that got out,
maybe nobody would come to my New Year’s party next year.”
“Never let it be said that Ram got in the way of commerce.
Though I don’t know how kosher it is to fake the noises, I don’t see how what
you’re doing could possibly be construed as being illegal and you’re not really
hurting anyone. From what I saw, the people were having fun and I don’t think
there’s much chance all of them believe the sounds are really coming from a
ghost.”
Chapter 4
After Marti and Adam had bid farewell to Anton and were on
their way back to Adams house, Marti asked, “What now, sweetheart?”
“I guess we'll go home and get a good night’s sleep."
"All right. Quit being a wise guy. You know what I
meant."
“Oh,” Adam said, feigning innocence, “You mean about the
theoretical gold mine?”
“Of course I do. I know you well enough to know that you're
not going to be able to leave that mystery alone. So again I ask, what’s next?”
“I guess the first step would be to find Kitty's piece of
the gun grip. Without that, finding Honovi’s piece won't do any good and
without both of those, finding the one that's still in Chandler's grave
definitely won't do any good.”
“And just how do you suggest that we go about finding Kitty's
piece?"
"Do you remember that passage in Kitty’s journal that
we couldn’t figure out what she was talking about?” After Adam had moved into
the Arkin house, Bagel had noticed a small door under one of the kitchen
cabinets and Adam found a journal written by Kitty therein. He’d offered to
give the journal to Kitty’s grandson, but his wife didn’t want anything to do
with it or anything in it so he was told to do with it what he wanted. Marti
and he had read the journal which was written in a distinctive and florid
old-English style. Unfortunately, many of the passages made reference to one or
more things that were unfamiliar to either of them.
“You’ll have to be more specific than that. There were a
number of passages that we had no clue as to what she was talking about.”
“I’m thinking of the one that made reference to gold. Do you
remember what else it said?” He said as he drove into the garage after the door
automatically opened.
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t. I assume you’re thinking that it
has something to do with the lost prospector’s grave and map. We’ll just have
to go through the journal again.”
After Adam had turned off the alarm system and they’d gone
in the house and let the dogs out and back in, they settled down on the couch with
the journal. It didn’t take long before Adam found the passage for which he was
looking.
“Here it is,” he said. “See it says gold and then has the
initials RTD and the numbers 2-4, 3-6, and 5-2. Any idea what it might mean?”
“I don’t have any more idea now than when you asked before.”
“The only other time I’ve seen the initials RTD, it was in a
city and it meant Rapid Transit District, in other words, the bus routes.”
“Somehow, since most of this journal was written about 100
years ago, I doubt that it refers to bus routes.”
“I know. I was only kidding. I do wonder, however, what it
could stand for.”
“More than likely, it refers to something that had meaning
only to Kitty.”
“Maybe so, but I do have an idea. You know that Dolly’s
grandmother was Ivy Franks and she and Kitty were the prostitutes that danced
in the Undress Inn.” She nodded so he continued. “I just thought that perhaps Dolly
might have some idea what RTD stands for. And if she doesn’t, maybe her mother
does. I interviewed her mother for the Undress Inn Ramble so I’d think she’d
probably be willing to talk to me again if Dolly can’t help.” Once, when
business was slow at the Cat House, the owner sent Ivy and Kitty over to what
was then called the Snowbound Inn to do a strip-tease to help drum up business.
Their show proved to be so popular that the owner of the Snowbound Inn hired
them away from the Cat House and, henceforth, the Snowbound Inn became known as
the Undress Inn. Complaints by their wives forced the city fathers to tell the
owner of the Undress Inn to get rid of the strippers or risk being shut down. Thus,
the show was no more and Ivy and Kitty were out of a job. Fortunately, each had
a former client that loved and married them.
“I seem to remember,” Adam said, leafing through the journal.
“Ah, yes, here it is.”
“What’s that?”
“Kitty makes reference to Grave being moved to the attic. I
didn’t understand that when we first read the journal, but now I think I do.”
Marti looked thoughtful, but then said, “I still don’t.”
“You know that most of the paintings hanging in this house
were painted by Kitty Arkin, the wife of the original owner.”
“Of course I do. You know I’ve admired them ever since you
moved in.”
“I know and I know you’ve looked at the paintings enough to
know that Kitty had a label put on each of her paintings like Squirrel, Bear,
and Meadow Sunset. I’m thinking that she created a painting of the spot where
she and Honovi buried Chandler and had it hanging somewhere down here. Then, at
some point, she must have moved it to the attic.”
“Possible, I suppose. Have you ever been in the attic?”
“Only once, after I first moved in, but I didn’t see any
paintings.”
“What’s up there?”
“Just some old furniture and boxes of stuff that I’ve yet to
explore.”
“Are any of the boxes big enough to hold a painting?”
“Not if the painting in question is anywhere near the same
size as the other ones spread around the house. She seemed to like to paint on
large canvases.”
“Yes she did. Do you want to go up in the attic and look for
the painting?”
“No, I don’t think so. It’s awfully dusty up there. Besides,
we don’t really need to find the grave until we find the other two pieces of
the grip.” He didn’t want her exploring the attic since he’d hidden a box of
papers his mother had left for him before she died. He hadn’t looked at them
yet, but he didn’t want Marti finding them since he thought they probably
contained at least some family history and he even though he knew he was in
love with her, he still wasn’t ready to share his history with Marti. He might
be someday soon, but certainly not tonight. Besides, he didn’t want her going
through the papers until he’d had a chance to do it himself. He wasn’t sure why
he hadn’t gone through the papers except for the fact that they might bring
back painful memories of how his mother died. He didn’t think he was ready for
that quite yet.
“Good morning Dolly,” Adam said when she answered his call.
“Morning Ram, what can I do for you?”
“Marti and I have a couple of questions for you if it’s not
too early.”
“It’s not. I’ve been up for hours. Come on over.”
“Okay, We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Dolly answered at his first knock. She was vastly overweight
and could generally be seen wearing a Mumu as she currently was. Her silver
hair also stuck out in many places as usual and it always reminded Adam of an
untended garden.
“Mornin’ Ram. What would you like know?”
“As I said, we have a couple of questions for you, if you
don’t mind,” Adam said, “May we come in for a few minutes?”
Dolly moved aside. “Of course. Come in.” After she had
settled her bulk on the couch and Adam and Marti had sat in the proffered
chairs, she asked, “What do you want to know?”
“I know you know your grandmother’s history with the Undress
Inn, but do you know that she was friends with Kathyrn or Kitty Sheridan?”
“Yes. But I think she was Kitty Arkin not Sheridan.”
“Arkin was her married name, she was Kitty Sheridan when she
was dancing. But that doesn’t really matter. What we need to know is if you
might know what the initials RTD stand for?”
“Where did you see these initials?”
“I have moved into the house that Kitty’s husband originally
owned and was then passed down to Kitty’s daughter and then, by a strange twist
of fate, to me.”
“I’ve heard.”
“My dog Bagel found a secret hiding place in the kitchen and
we found a journal written by Kitty inside. In one passage, she refers to gold
and then lists the initials RTD followed by a series of numbers.”
“Sorry. I don’t know. I’ve never heard anyone using those
initials in reference to anything.”
“Do you think your mother might know?” Marti said.
“Can’t say. She might.”
“Do you think she’d be willing to talk to me again?” Adam
asked. “I originally interviewed her for my Ramble on the Undress Inn.”
“I knew that. She told me. She enjoyed talking to you.”
“So you think she’d talk to me again?”
“I’m sure she would.”
“Okay. I’ll call the nursing home and find out when it would
be convenient to talk to her. And now, I think we’ll be on our way. We haven’t
eaten breakfast yet. Have you? If you haven’t, would you like to join us?”
“I have. But thanks for the invitation.”
“Amy,” Adam said when Amy Frisco answered the phone at the
Sunset Village nursing home. Adam knew Amy not only from his first visit to the
nursing home to interview Audry, but also because she was a cast member of “A
Christmas Carol,” When the theater burned down caused by extremely old wiring
catching fire, he rescued her son. “I’d like to come over and talk to Audrey
Leech again whenever it’s convenient.”
“I’m so sorry, Ram. Audrey had a stroke last night. The
doctor’s attending to her now.”
“How serious was it,” Adam glanced at Marti who looked
worried so he mouthed “Stroke.”
“Fortunately, according to the nurse who was with her before
the doctor arrived, it wasn’t too bad. She should be up and around again in a
few days.
Adam waited a few days before he called again, but Amy told
him that Audry still wasn't ready to have visitors. Thus, it was several more
days before he was allowed to visit her. He went by himself since Marti’s
Christmas vacation from school was over and she was back at work.
“Good afternoon Amy," Adam said entering the lobby of
the Sunset Village nursing home.” How’s Ivy doing?"
"She's kind of in and out. She's sleeping a lot. I just
looked in on her a couple minutes ago because I knew you were coming, and she
was awake. That doesn't mean she’ll still be awake."
“Well, shall we go see?"
"Certainly. What did you want to see her about? Are you
going to write another column about Kitty?" Kitty was Audrey’s mother, who
stripped with Kitty at the Undress Inn. Adams interviewed Audrey for his ramble
about the Undress Inn.
“No. I’m in pursuit of a story, but it doesn't really have
anything to do with Audrey’s mother, other than in a peripheral way. I just
need some information and thought perhaps Audrey may be able to give it to me.”
“Well, let's go see if she can." Adam followed Amy down
the Hall into Audrey’s room.
“Hello Audrey," Adam said. “How are you feeling?"
"Only so-so,” she said slurring her speech a bit. “You
want to talk to me?"
“I do, if you're feeling up to it."
"I’m okay, just a bit tired. What do you want to know?"
"I think I told you that I'm living in Kitty Sheridan’s,
or Kitty Arkin’s house.” Audrey nodded so Adam continued. "My dog Bagel
uncovered a hidden storage place where I discovered a journal written by Kitty.
In one of the notes, she made reference to something abbreviated RTD. I was
wondering if you might know what the initials RTD stand for?”
Audrey shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t know.”
“But I think I do," Amy said. “I wish you had told me
that's the information you were seeking. I could‘ve given it to you days ago.”
“Okay, I'm game. What is it?"
"RTD stands for rolltop desk. I only know that because
my grandfather used to build rolltop desks and he used that abbreviation all
the time.”
“That's very interesting. I'd have never figured that out.”
“I'm not surprised. It wasn't necessarily in common use,
even in grandpa’s day, and it certainly isn't in use today since rolltop desks
haven't been manufactured for many years. It's really a shame too because I
think they're really neat. Of course, it only stands to reason that I’d think
so since grandpa made them."
"Why don't we continue this conversation in your
office?” Adam glanced at Audrey and she had fallen asleep. “It doesn't appear
that our conversation stimulated Audrey.”
“I'm sure she's just tired. I don't know what you know about
strokes, but they really take it out of a person. Of course, I'm used to seeing
the results of strokes around here since, unfortunately, it's a common
occurrence for our residents." Amy left the room and Adam followed her
down the hallway to her office.
“There's more to the passage in Kitty's Journal. Just a
second," Adam took out the small notebook in which he'd jotted down the whole
passage from the journal. “Following the initials RTD, there is a series of
numbers.”
“What kind of numbers?"
“There were three sets of numbers and they were 2-4, 3-6,
and 5-2. Do you have any idea what they might mean?"
"No, I'm sorry I don't. But maybe my dad might. He used
to help my grandfather make the rolltop desks. He was a carpenter before he
retired, even though he didn't make rolltop desks anymore.”
“I'd love to talk to your dad. Does he live around
here?"
"He doesn't live in Canary Corners, but he does live in
Bear Cave which, if you don't know it, is only about 40 miles away.”
“I’m familiar with Bear Cave although I haven't been there
yet. Could you give your dad a call by way of introduction and find out when he
might be available?”
“I'll be happy to call him for you, but he doesn't need an introduction
to you. He's read your column ever since it first appeared and he feels the
same way I do about your writing. I have no doubt that he'd be honored to talk
to you. As a matter of fact, why don't I call him right now?”
“That would be appreciated."
"Dad," Amy said after she listened for her father
to answer. When she spoke, her voice was barely below a shout. “Everything’s
just fine. Ram is here and he needs some information. No, not Sam, Ram. Would
you like to talk to him?” She listened for a few moments, then held the phone
away from her body and turned to Adam, “He's overjoyed at the possibility of
being able to help you, but I think and he thinks it’d be best if you visit him
instead of talking to him on the phone since his hearing’s not the best. He was
working in a house that was near a manufacturing plant once, and the plant had
a gas explosion. Fortunately no one was hurt, but the noise from the explosion
damaged Dad’s hearing. ”
“Tell him I'll be happy to drive up to Bear Cave and see him
in person. I presume you can give me directions to his house.
"I can.” She turned her attention back to the phone and
said loudly. “Dad, when would be a good time for Ram to come for a visit? Okay,
I'll check.” She held the phone out again and turned to Adam, “He says you can
come right now if you're available. He has a golf game with a couple of buddies
in a few hours, but he's free and is going to be home until then.”
“Now’s just fine. I shouldn't need to talk to him for more
than a few minutes. Hopefully, he'll have some idea of what the numbers are all
about.”
“Hopefully, so.” She told her dad that Adam would be leaving
for Bear Cave soon, hung up, set down at her desk, wrote down an address, and
sketched a small map. When she was finished, she handed him the paper. “Here’s
his address and I drew a small map to his house. I'm not much of an artist, but
I think it's good enough that you'll be able to find his house.
Adam looked briefly at the map. “I'm sure I'll be okay. I
think you drew a fine map.”
“I thank you for that even though I know it's not true. But,
if it does the job, I guess it's good enough. By the way, my father's name is
Bernard, although everyone calls him Bernie and I'm sure he would be pleased if
you did so as well."
Adam drove into Bear Cave and, following the map, drove
directly to Amy's father's house. “Hello,” Adam said loudly when a man of about
5 foot 10, with muscles bulging under his T-shirt answered the door. Adam
remembered that Amy’s father was hard of hearing. “You must be Bernie. It's all
right if I call you Bernie isn’t it?”
“Of course it is. You must be Ram. I'm so pleased to meet
you. Amy probably told you that I love your column. I presume she also told you
I'm a bit hard of hearing because of an explosion a few years ago.”
“She told me,” Adam said loudly.
“In case you're wondering, I've tried various hearing aids,
but none of them seemed to help. I guess the damage to my ears is too severe.
Fortunately, I can hear as long as people speak up. But enough about me, what
can I do for you, Ram? And please come in and have a seat "
“Amy told me that you used to be a carpenter.” Adam said
when he settled in a chair near where Bernie sat.
“That's correct. I made furniture, cabinets, and just about
anything else you might want to be made out of wood. I even helped build some
houses around here."
“She also told me you used to help your father build rolltop
desks.”
“I did. They were a lot of fun to build.”
“Well, if you don't mind, I have a bit of a puzzle for you
to solve. At least it's a puzzle to me and to everyone else. I ask.”
“What is it? I'll help you solve it if I can.”
Adam pulled out the small notebook he'd written his notes
on. “I have a journal that was written by someone about 100 years ago, and it
makes reference to RTD and then it's followed by some numbers.”
“Numbers?"
"Yes, the numbers 2-4, 3-6, and 5-2. Do you have any
idea what the numbers might mean?"
"Indeed I do. Before my grandfather began building
rolltop desks, when he was just a youngster, someone named Carlos Danvers was
famous in the area for building rolltop desks with at least one hidden drawer
in each desk. The drawer was revealed when several of the many small drawers
under the rolltop were opened in a certain sequence. My guess would be that the
numbers mean row two drawer four, row three drawer six, and row five drawer
two.”
“You mean there's a rolltop desk somewhere that if I open
those drawers in that sequence, a hidden drawer will open?”
“I think so. As I said, Carlos was famous for making desks
like that. Any idea what may be in the hidden drawer?”
“I guess I can tell you since you may have helped me solve
the puzzle.” Adam said. “I think there’s a piece of the grip from a pistol in
it.”
“Come again?”
“You said you've been reading my columns, did you read the
one about how the Cat House became the Canary House?”
“Of course I did. That was really interesting. I didn't know
any of that."
“I've been told, that the man who beat the prostitute to
death was a gold prospector and he’d just found a gold mine. He was apparently
celebrating his find with his visit to the Cat House.”
"Okay, but what's that got to do with a piece of gun grip?”
“Apparently, he didn't trust his memory, so he drew a map to
the gold mine. He buried it in a small box somewhere. So that he could find the
box later, he drew directions to where the box was buried on one side of the grip
of his pistol. When his body was found, apparently the grip had broken into
three pieces and I think one of those three pieces may be in that hidden
drawer. At least I'm hoping it's in that drawer. I'm also hoping, of course,
that I can find the right rolltop desk. At this point I have no idea what
rolltop desk the lady who wrote the journal was referring to. I’m currently
living in the house she owned, but there isn’t any rolltop desk in the house.”
Chapter 5
When Adam got home he thought he'd look through the attic to
see if the rolltop desk he was looking for might be there since it wasn’t
anywhere in the main part of the house. He thought maybe, just maybe, he'd get
lucky. He knew there were a lot of items in the attic covered by sheets. Like
he’d mentioned to Marti, he'd checked out the attic when he’d first moved into
the house. When he hid the box of records that his mother left for him in the
attic he’d covered it with a sheet just like the rest of the items. He'd looked
under several of the sheets and had found a couple pieces of old furniture and
a stack of boxes. At the time, he thought he’d return to the attic someday and
check out everything that was there including what was in any boxes he found,
but hadn't yet done so. Now he had a perfect reason.
Grabbing a flashlight from the kitchen, he walked into the
hallway, grabbed the knob on the end of the rope hanging from the stairs,
pulled them down, unfolded them, and then he carefully climbed the stairs into
the attic.
It was just as he remembered. There was about 10 to 15 items
covered with sheets. Before disturbing any of the sheets, he walked through the
attic looking for something that looked like it might be a rolltop desk covered
with a sheet. He didn't see a likely candidate, but he knew a rolltop desk
would be at least 3 to 4 feet high. Therefore, he skipped all the items that
were not at least that tall.
First he uncovered a tall stack of boxes, then chest of
drawers, and finally a rolltop desk. The reason it hadn't looked like a rolltop
desk when it was covered by the sheet, was that it had a mirror lying flat on
the top of the rolltop camouflaging the arc of the rolltop. He set the mirror
on the floor, and raised the rolltop. As he'd hoped, there were several rows of
small drawers. Unfortunately, they were split down the middle and he didn't
know whether he should be going from the left towards the middle on the left
side or from the right towards the middle on the right side. But he knew the
first thing he needed was the set of numbers. He took out his notebook, where
he'd written the theoretical rolltop combination.
He decided to try the right hand drawer's first. He pulled
out the fourth drawer from the right in the second row. He listened carefully
for a click or some other sound that might indicate pulling out the drawer
caused something to happen. Unfortunately, he heard nothing. Undaunted, he
pulled out the sixth drawer from the right in the third row. He still heard
nothing. He knew he had to finish so he pulled out the second drawer on the
fifth row. Nothing happened.
He knew that it either wasn't the set of drawers on the
right side that held the key to opening the hidden drawer, or it was the wrong
rolltop desk. He wasn't about to give up without trying the combination on the
drawers on the left side. Unfortunately, this availed him nothing either. He
had no choice but to deduce this wasn’t the rolltop desk for which he was
searching.
He looked under the sheets of the rest of the covered items
but there was no other rolltop desk. He also didn't find the painting of the
grave that the journal had indicated might be in the attic. He didn't think any
of the boxes were big enough to hold the painting if, as he’d mentioned to
Marti, it was anywhere close to the size of the paintings in the rest of the
house.
All of a sudden, he remembered something that Addison Marsden
told him. Addison was the realtor who originally arranged for Adam to borrow
the house when he was trying to trap the burglar. Addison had mentioned that
there’s a museum in Frozenville that had several of Kitty’s paintings in it. He
wondered if any of Kitty’s furniture was in the museum as well. He knew he'd
never rest until he drove to Frozenville and visited the museum to find out.
Since he was going to a museum and he wanted to do more than
just look at the desk, if it was indeed there, he thought he’d better take the
proof that the foundation was now owner of everything that was in the Arkin
estate. Otherwise, if he did happen to locate the right rolltop desk and the
piece of the handle that he hoped to find inside, they might not let him take
it.
When Adam arrived in Frozenville, the first thing he did was
to stop at a gas station and ask directions to the museum. Fortunately, the man
he talked to did, in fact, know where the museum was. He jotted down the
directions on a piece of paper though they were so easy he didn't think he
needed to have it written down. After he left the gas station, he drove
directly to the museum without a single wrong turn.
“Hello, Adrian" Adam said to the pretty young girl at
the ticket counter reading her nametag. Admission was being charged for the
museum but it was only three dollars. “My name is Ram and I…”
“You're the new writer for the tweet. I recognize your name.
Of course, that's not too hard. It's not everybody who has the name of Ram.”
“I'm certain that's true. I've never heard of anybody else
called Ram. But what I started to say is, I started a foundation called the
Rambling Foundation and it’s now owner of everything in the estate of Rebecca
Arkin. I was told that you have some paintings by her mother, Kitty Arkin. What
I was wondering is if you might also have any furniture that Kitty originally
owned.”
“Indeed we do. Would you like to see it?”
“That's why I came here today. But I want to do more than
look at it."
"What do you mean by that? Do you intend to take some
or all of the items back? I know it's your right since the items are only on
loan, but it’d be a real shame if you were to do that. Of course, if you intend
to do that, I'll need some kind of paperwork showing that you are indeed the
inheritor of the estate”
“No, nothing like that. I just want to explore Kitty’s
rolltop desk, if you happen to have it.”
“Actually, we have two rolltop desks that are on loan from
the Arkin estate. But what do you mean by explore?”
“I’m hoping a piece of Arkin history is located in the
rolltop desk.”
“So you’ll want to actually open the rolltop desk and maybe
some of the drawers within. If you’re going to do anything like that, I’ll
still need some proof that you have the right to do so.”
“That’s all right. I brought the paperwork with me that assigns
everything in the Arkin estate over to the Rambing Foundation of which I’m the
chief officer.”
“Okay. I guess that should do. But before I let you leave
with anything, if that’s your intention, I’ll have to talk to the manager of
the museum. Give me just a moment to call Jesse up here to relieve me, and I'll
take you back and show you the desks."
“The manager?”
“No. Just another girl who works here. I just thought it
might be best for her to leave me so I can show you around the museum and
precisely where the things on loan from the Arkin estate are located.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Adam said.
Adrian picked up a phone and spoke a few words before
turning her attention back to Adam, “She’ll be just a few minutes.”
It was actually only about one minute before a tall,
willowy, blonde came out of the back and opened the door to the ticket booth. “This
is Ram, the new columnist for the Tweet.”
“I’ve read your stuff,” Jesse’s smile lit up her face. “Are
you going to write about the museum?”
“That’s not why I’m here, but that’s not a half bad idea.”
Adam looked at Adrian and said, “What do you think?”
“I think it’s a heck of an idea. Do you think you can?”
“I’ll have to check with my editor, but I don’t see why not.
I’m supposed to be able to write about anything I want to and the museum would
seem like an interesting topic. Depending, of course,” he winked at Adrian, “On
what I see.”
“Then maybe you should go on in and see if you think there’s
enough interesting stuff.” Jesse said.
“Good idea,” Adrian exited the booth and indicated that Adam
should follow her as she headed into the museum.
The hallway they were walking down was lined with glass
cases with all sorts of historical items, each with a label. Above the cases
were a number of paintings and pictures. Adam looked at a couple of paintings
closely, and saw one that he recognized as Kitty’s style, it had of brass label
on it, and it was signed K. Arkin. It was labeled Sunset Drive and depicted a
carriage with a background of a gloriously colored sunset. A little farther on,
there was a painting that Adam easily recognized as the Cat House since it had
a large sign above the building virtually identical to the one in the
photograph he'd put in his ramble about the cat house.
Adam followed Adrian to the end of the hallway, which opened
into a large room overflowing with antique furniture. The room held several
rolltop desks.
Adrian walked directly to one of the desks. “Here's one of
her, or now your, rolltop desks,” she winked.
There was a sign on the top of the desk indicating that it
was on loan from the estate of Kitty Arkin, but it also said the desk was built
by Thomas Herriman so Adam knew this was wrong desk. “I don't think this is
desk I was looking for. May I look at the other desk from the estate?”
“Yes, of course. It is in another room.”
Adam followed her out of the room they were in around a
corner and down a short hallway into another large room that was almost as
packed as was first room. There was only one roll top desk in his room and Adam
walked directly to it. It was roped off, but he could see a small sign on this
desk as well indicating that it was on loan from the estate of Kitty Arkin.
Fortunately, it said that this desk was built by Carlos Danvers. He’d found the
desk he was looking for. He could scarcely believe his luck. But he had yet to
prove that this was, in fact, the desk with the secret drawer containing the
piece of the pistol handle.
“This is the desk. I was looking for. At least I hope it is.
Do you know anything about desks created by Carlos Danvers?”
“Only that the desks were created around 1900 and he was
famous for his desks. Why do you ask?”
"Because I was told that one of the things he was
famous for was creating a hidden drawer in his desks. I have," Adam took
out his note pad on which he'd written the numbers, “A series of numbers that’s
supposedly is a type of combination that when you open the drawers under the
rolltop in a particular order, the hidden drawer opens.”
“You don't say?”
“I do say but only because someone else told me. I don't
know it's true or not. I'm hoping it is, because I'm hoping the artifact that
I'm looking for will be in that hidden drawer. Is it okay if I try the
combination I have written here?"
“Absolutely. I want to see for myself if such a thing is true.
It’ll give me a little bit more information for the museum. I haven't shown
them to you because you didn't ask, but the museum has several more roll top
desks created by Carlos Danvers.”
“Well, if the hidden drawer in this desk, if there actually
is one, doesn't contain what I want or my combination doesn't open the drawer,
maybe I'll have to try the others.” Adam suddenly had a thought. "Since
you have several other desks created by Carlos Danvers, is it possible that
this desk was inadvertently switched with one of the others?”
“Absolutely no chance at all. We're scrupulously careful
about such things. If we weren't, people wouldn’t loan us things for the museum
and the museum depends upon those loans. Most of the things in the museum are
in fact loaned to us.”
“Okay, let's see if my combination works.” Adam went behind
the rope and raised the rolltop. This desk had a separation between the left
side drawers and right side drawers just like the desk at the Arkin house. He
thought he’d start from the right side just as he did before. This time
however, when he pulled out the fourth drawer on the second row, he heard a
faint click. He could scarcely contain his excitement. “I think this may be it.
Did you hear the click?”
She nodded. “I did hear a virtually imperceptible click.
What did it mean?”
“I'm hoping it's like the tumblers that fall into place when
you use the combination of a safe. But I guess it remains to be seen. I have
two more drawers pull out.” And with that he pulled out the drawer six on the
third row. He heard another faint click. He turned and smiled at Adrian. “One
more.” He pulled out the second drawer on the fifth row. With that, the panel
on the right side of the desk slid down and a drawer as wide as the width of
the desk poked out slightly. He reached over and pulled the drawer as far out
as it would come.
“Ah ha,” he smiled when he looked into the drawer and saw
the piece of the pistol handle he was hoping to see. He picked it up and
briefly looked at it before he held it out for Adrian to see. “This is just
what I was looking for.”
She looked at it and then shook her head. “What's so
important about that? It's not even the whole side of the grip.”
“I know it's not. It wasn't supposed to be. Look carefully
at it.”
“I see the markings, but what do they mean?”
“I was told that this piece of the grip along with two other
pieces of one side of the grip form a set of directions to where a box is
buried that holds a map to a gold mine.”
“That wouldn't be the lost Chandler mine would it?”
“You know about the Chandler mine?"
"People have been looking for the Chandler mine for I
don't know how long. Every so often, a new map to the Chandler mine will
surface. Obviously, since the mine has never been found, the maps must have
been bogus.”
“Supposedly, the map that the directions on the gun grip
lead to, was created by Chandler himself. Whether it proves to be the genuine
article or not, is still to be discovered."
“Do you intend to take that piece of the grip with you?”
“If it can be arranged. I'll be happy to bring it back at
some point. When that’ll be, however, I really can't say yet.”
“That's okay. As I said before, I guess it actually belongs
to you. But also, as I said before, I'll have to talk to my manager before I
can let you take anything out of the museum. Let's go back out to the ticket
booth and I'll call him.”
Adam followed Adrian back out to the front where she went
into the ticket booth. Though Adam couldn't hear, Adrian must have told Jesse
she could go back to whatever she was working on when she was called to the
front, because she immediately left the booth and headed into the museum.
Adrian then dialed the phone and spoke to someone for a few minutes.
When she hung up the phone she turned to Adam and said, “He
said it would be okay for you to take the piece. All you have to do is sign a
receipt that I’ll write up.”
“That's okay with me.”
“Okay, give me just a few minutes and I'll have it ready for
you to sign.”
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