Jane Carter Investigates: Episode Twenty-Eight
“I’m sleeping where?” Jack was incredulous.
“In room seven,” Dad repeated. “You’ll come back with a corking
story.”
“If I come back at all.”
“I won’t force you to do it.” Dad was no longer smiling. “I know
it’s a dangerous business, Jack.”
“I’ll do it.”
“I thought you would, Jack. You’ll be armed, of course. I’ll
station guards somewhere around the house.”
“Isn’t that apt to give the whole thing away?” Jack asked. “It
isn’t likely anything will happen if it’s known we’re watching the place.”
“And the Times may get
wind of it, too,” I added. “Then your scoop will explode like a soap bubble.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Dad said. “It would be better to have no
guards in evidence, but I can’t let you take too much risk, Jack.”
“Dad, I know how you could keep folks from suspecting that the
house was being watched!” I said.
“How?”
“Give a big party there tonight. It would be killing two birds
with one stone.”
“I don’t understand.”
“For weeks, Dad, you’ve been saying you intended to entertain your
staff. Old Mansion is perfectly spooky for a wonderful ghost party. Florence
and I could plan all the entertainment and serve refreshments. Everything would
appear just like an ordinary party. The townspeople won’t suspect what’s behind
it all. While the party’s in progress, Jack could be keeping his eyes open.
Also, if anything goes wrong while he was staying in that room, there would be
any number of helpers at hand.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Dad said doubtfully. “It sounds a bit
fantastic to me. Your thought would be to have the party last all night?”
“Into the wee small hours, at least. Oh, Dad, it would work out
beautifully. The guests wouldn’t need to know anything about why Jack was in
the house.”
Jack said he thought it was a good idea, and Dad gave in. Mrs.
Conrad did not protest. She was past protesting. I think we could have proposed
housing a herd of swine on the premises, and she would have inquired as to how
much straw we required.
“I’ll leave all the plans for the party in your hands, Jane,” my
father said. “Can you take care of it on such short notice?”
“Yes, you invite the newspaper gang, and I’ll do the rest. You
might sign over a couple of checks in blank. I’ll have to arrange with a
caterer to bring in food and find musicians.”
I had a lot of work to do, and I couldn’t do it alone. I headed
back to Greenville. On the way home, I stopped off at Mud Cat Joe’s shed. There
was no one around, so I wrote a hasty note, telling Mud Cat where we had seen a
houseboat resembling the one he had lost. I tacked it to the shed door and
hurried home.
Mrs. Timms and Florence both came to my assistance. We found a
caterer willing to deliver at short notice. Flo had a cousin who played in a
five-piece orchestra, and they were free for the evening. The only thing left
was the entertainment.
“Even if it isn’t Halloween, we’ll have ghost stunts and the
like,” I said. “That reminds me that I must buy candles. Mrs. Conrad’s dreadful
furniture won’t seem so bad by candlelight.”
By eight o’clock, everything was ready. Dad had invited every
member of the Examiner’s staff who
would not be required at the plant. There were to be nearly thirty guests.
The caterer filled up Mrs. Conrad’s kitchen. Flo and I scattered
candles around the parlor. The five-piece orchestra was shoehorned into a
corner.
I was so tired that I couldn’t even look forward to the prospect
of dancing with Jack.
“There, I can’t think of another thing left undone,” I said,
checking over the food and drinks supply in Mrs. Conrad’s kitchen. Florence and
Emma had been helping me while Jack leaned indolently against the table helping
himself to the dessert tray.
“Jack, if you keep on pushing cakes down your hatch at this rate
we’re going to run short on food,” I said.
“I have to have something to fortify my courage,” he said. “I see that
the Greenville Examiner intends to
adhere to the law of the land when it comes to the consumption of liquor. It’s
a shame, Jane, that on his last night on earth, a poor condemned man can’t even
get a decent drink.”
“So, in lieu of a nice scotch, you’re having several pounds of
chocolate cake?”
“I am,” said Jack, “fully realizing that this may be the last food
I’ll ever eat.”
“Don’t say such things—even in fun,” I said. “You don’t have to do
it, you know. It’s not too late to change your mind.”
Jack didn’t answer and went to stand by the window. Flo and Emma
had left us, and I went to stand beside him.
“It’s the perfect night for a dramatic happening,” he said. “Dark,
rainy, wind howling. And a nice bed waiting for little Jack in room seven.”
“I almost wish you weren’t doing it,” I said.
“Jane—”
“What?”
Just then, a batch of guests arrived. I could hear them in the
hall.
“Tell me later,” I said, and went out to play hostess.
For the first two hours, we all danced. I danced eight times with
Jack, but only the fast tunes. He seemed to be avoiding the slow waltzes.
When everyone was good and tired, I introduced a series of games
and stunts. I was kept so busy that from ten o’clock on, I caught only an
occasional glimpse of my father or Jack.
Shortly after eleven o’clock, I realized that I hadn’t seen Jack
for a while. I found my father and asked if Jack had already taken himself off
to maintain his vigil in room seven.
“Yes, Jack is up there now,” Dad told me. “But I’m fairly certain
nothing will come of it.”
“Why do you think that, Dad?”
“I believe it was a mistake having this party here. Not that it
isn’t going over big. You’ve done a good job, Jane. But I can’t see that it
will contribute toward our scoop.”
I was disappointed, but I tried not to show it.
“Do the Conrads know that Jack is staying in room seven?” I asked.
“I didn’t tell them, but they probably know it by now. I
instructed Jack to advertise his presence by turning on the lights.”
“Just what did you hope might happen tonight, Dad?”
“Well, I thought someone might try to enter room seven. Jack has a
gun, and we rigged up a camera trap. All he needs to do is to touch it off.
But, as I say, our plans probably will be wasted.”
“Is anyone besides Jack keeping guard?”
“No, he’s alone in the room. I intend to go up there every fifteen
minutes or so just to make certain he’s all right.”
I returned to the parlor to find that all the lights save one
candle had been extinguished.
“You’re just in time, Jane,” called out one of the guests. “We’ve
thought up some games of our own.”
“That’s fine. What is this one?”
“Oh, that old Halloween stunt,” the girl went on. “You hold a
mirror and a candle and see the face of your beloved. Your turn will be next
after Florence’s.”
I laughed as I saw how the stunt worked. In the darkness, a young
man slipped up behind the girl who was gazing into the mirror so that she saw
his reflection in the glass.
It was Flo’s turn, and she took her place not far from the window.
Holding the candle in her left hand, she stared into the mirror.
Suddenly she screamed, and the looking glass dropped from her hand
to the floor. All the color drained from her cheeks.
“What is the matter, Florence?” I said. “Didn’t you see the face
of your future sweetheart?”
“I saw a man.” Florence shuddered.
“It was only Bill Evans, the sports reporter!” I laughed.
I thought Flo must be overtired not to have realized how the stunt
worked. Florence glanced nervously over her shoulder and retreated to a chair
by the wall. A shout of laughter went up at Bill Evans’ expense, but Flo did
not join in.
“Let’s try some other game,” I said, and before anyone could
protest, I switched on the electric lights.
At the first opportunity, I drew Florence into the hallway.
“You weren’t pretending, Flo. You really saw something in that
mirror?”
“That was not Bill Evans that I saw in the mirror!”
“You’re certain?”
Florence gave me a scornful look.
“I saw Bill’s face in the mirror too, but that wasn’t what
frightened me. Someone was watching us all through the window!”
Comments
Post a Comment