A Ghost at Stallion's Gate (19 page)

His eyes lit up. “What a lovely thought. I’d love for it to be a 1920s Bentley or Fiat Torpedo. Imagine, all these years, in storage down here, the auto would be in pristine condition.” Seamus then turned to his work crew, and said, “Steve, this is your area of expertise. What’s next?”

“We need to carefully dismantle this crate. After a few boards of the crate are removed, we can look through the slats and see what’s inside. How about you and Miss Delaney step back into the other room and I’ll see to it the temp is raised to seventy degrees in there, cool, but you won’t freeze. Joe brought down some folding chairs, not the most comfortable, but it won’t take long.”

“Thanks Steve, we’ll do just that.” We stepped away from the crate and went into the other room. We could hear the men at work, but not see them. We waited and chatted casually. It was nearly four in the afternoon when Steve came to fetch us.

“Well, we went ahead and totally dismantled the crate and I should say, it is not an automobile, sorry to disappoint you. You need to see for yourself,” he said to Seamus.

Seamus was composed but I sensed his heightened energy, it was electric and I’d say mine was too. We stepped inside the locker room. I stared up in total fascination with what was revealed.

“Rory!” I exclaimed.

Chapter 33

I approached Rory cautiously and was very pleased to see how well preserved he was. Though in an instant I was conflicted with sadness that he had been done this way and relieved I had found him, at last. I looked at Seamus, whose expression was somber.

“Why would anyone do this to such a beloved creature?” Seamus approached the standing figure of the stuffed Rory, and ever so gently, he ran his right hand over Rory’s neck. He stepped back and looked at me and said, “Shannon, I know you’ve been searching for this horse, and I am pleased he has been found, but truly, I am sad to find him this way. To have been treated like this, and not given a proper burial, one can only imagine what of his soul, restless and roaming, not given the peace it deserves. To be sure, we must give him a proper burial”

I was dumbfounded by Seamus’s remark and I was profoundly touched by his interpretation of an animal having a soul, a belief I wholeheartedly shared. I had to wipe away a tear, and then catching my breath, I said. “I’d like for him to be buried at Stallion’s Gate, but I doubt if the Pasadena Conservancy will allow it. The long story short is that another horse was found buried there, in the pasture, it was killed and I suspect it was killed to hide that fact it was a ringer for Rory, in races held down in Mexico. Also, the horse that has been posing as Rory in the trophy room at Stallion’s Gate, it is really a clever composite sewn together from more than one horse. All the horses deserve a proper burial, but where?”

Seamus gazed at Rory, deep in thought and not turning his gaze away he said, “This situation needs a bit of negotiating. I do believe that a few carefully chosen words and suggestions will render the approval from the Pasadena Conservancy to go ahead with your idea.” He turned to me and smiled. I could see mischief in his smile and even more so in his eyes. “Shannon, you leave this to me and my da. Rarely ever has a person or an administration refused a proposal from Connor O’Kelley.”

My agony of what to do with Rory and his horse mates melted into laughter. I knew Seamus would follow through. “I have yet to meet your father, but knowing that he is held in high esteem by Sister Rosario Santiago speaks volumes of good graces about him. Thank you Seamus.”

“Tis my pleasure. Now what about that little crate?” He pointed to a small box underneath the standing Rory. “Let’s see what is in it.”

Huh? I hadn’t even noticed another object near Rory. Seamus walked over to it, knelt down and picked it up and brought it over to me. He set it down on the concrete floor. We knelt down to each side of it.

“Not quite as big as a bread box, what treasure lies inside?” Seamus teased.

One of the work crew had already broken open the crate’s lid. Seamus lifted the lid and set it off to the side. Old newspapers and wood shavings that had been used for packing material covered the top. He took out the bundled up newspapers and dusted off the shavings, and then, reaching in with both hands he extracted a lovely white marble box. Seamus set it down in front of us.

“Hmm, a bit smaller than a bread box,” he joked.

“Look at the carving on top, it’s a glove box,” I said. The deep carving portrayed a pair of gloves. “It would have been quite common for this to be on a entrance hall table, with an umbrella stand and coat rack nearby.”

“I won’t argue that logic,” Seamus commented. He held the box up and examined it for a way to open it. “Exquisitely made. Where the lid meets the body is faintly perceptible and look at the lock plate, it is inset. Now, if only we had a key.”

If only we had a key? I thought to myself.

“Shannon?” Seamus nudged me to get my attention.

“Huh? Oh, sorry. I had a thought I couldn’t quite grasp and, oh, never mind.”

“If I cannot find a key, I’ll have to have a locksmith break open the lock and latch. What a pity, it could ruin the marble.”

“Oh, please, don’t do that, not yet.” And then my thoughts raced. “I’ve got it. Tonight I’m meeting with Alex and a few others at Grace Jordan’s house and oh, I know this doesn’t appear connected, but would you come along? I’ll pick you up at ten til seven and explain on the drive over, please, please bring this marble glove box?”

Seamus stood up and offered his hand to me, I got up and faced him. He must think I’ve gone mad.

But instead he smiled and then said, “I’d like that, though it would be better for me to pick you up, I know where the Rose Victorian is, after all, the owner is a colleague of mine. And it will give me some time to telephone my da. By the time I pick you up, I hope to have good news. Then you can fill me in on the drive to Grace’s.”

“Yes, of course, your idea is better. So, pick me up at ten to seven?”

“Certainly,” he answered and then he picked up the glove box and held it securely under one arm. “Shall we?”

On the way out he called out to Steve and the work crew, thanked them for their help and told them they had the rest of the day off. Steve said he’d lock up the building. Once outside, I noticed the darkening sky. The weather was changing, now it looked like rain.

“I though it never rained in this region at this time of year.” I looked up at the threatening clouds.

“It does when there is a hurricane in the Pacific, off Mexico’s coast,” Seamus explained.

“Hurricane? In the Pacific? Will it reach here?” I asked.

“Not likely. At present, there is a hurricane targeting Acapulco, it is named Beatriz. When this happens, which is rare, here in Southern California, we get a tropical storm for a few hours, at the most. The rainfall is rarely ever a concern. Most often it’s a welcome relief from the heat.”

The sudden aspect of rain worried me. Was this a harbinger of ill luck coming my way? Rory had warned me about rain. Seamus did his best to make light of the darkening clouds and the distant thunder. He walked with me to my car.

“Not to worry. The storm and its little bit of rain will not detract from our plans.”

I did my best to appear unconcerned. I smiled and waved to Seamus as I drove away.  After returning to the cottage I realized there was enough time to freshen up and get a bite to eat. In going over my notes, I knew I was ready for the meeting at Gracie’s. I also knew that the mystery of Stallion’s Gate was now as resolved, as it ever would be, well, excepting for that marble glove box and how to open it. I hoped that Francisco, in all his wisdom and experience of having been a detective would have a suggestion for opening that box. 

Chapter 34

Seamus knocked on my cottage door at the very instant a loud crack of thunder sounded, rattling the windows of my cottage. I quickly opened the door and ushered him in.

“And so, the storm came in early.” He was wiping raindrops off his shoulders. “I didn’t think to bring an umbrella.”

We stood looking out the window next to the door. Rain pounded down. I looked over at the trunk and spied the two umbrellas that had been left on top. I grabbed them. “I don’t think Alex or Darren will mind if we use these.” I grabbed my purse and portfolio and handed the full size umbrella to Seamus. “You go on ahead of me. I’ll stay under the cover of the porch while I lock up.”

With his umbrella open Seamus made a dash for his truck. He got in and I saw him reach over and begin to open the passenger side door. Perfect timing. I locked my cottage, and with the slim umbrella as my rain canopy, I dashed out to the truck. Seamus had my door open and I hopped in. We put the umbrellas on the bench seat behind. I turned to him and said, “I’ve always doubted the practicality of a king cab truck, until now. What would we do with these umbrellas, if not for that bench seat?” I asked.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. That bench seat is handy for so many reasons, not the least of which is Sadie, my lab. She can ride safely there, harnessed in with the seat belt. Doing so prevents her from becoming an unidentified flying object, in case I have to stop suddenly.”

“Sadie, huh? I must say, you seem like a dog person. Oh, and that’s a compliment.”

Seamus laughed. “According to Alex, Atlas, his big gray h
ound, adores you. I can say the same about you, being a dog person, and yes, it is a compliment, too. There aren’t very many animals I don’t like. But, dogs are my favorite. I was a latchkey kid. My nanny was a big black dog called Jack. He was a shepherd and lab mix. Every day I’d come home from school, go through the back gate into the yard where Jack was. I’d let him out and we would go into the house through the back door. Jack would insist on going in first, so I’d let him in, he’d survey the house, walking room to room and I’d wait until he returned to the door. I figured it was his way of telling me it was safe to go in.”

“Did you live in a rough neighborhood?” I asked.

“Yeah, sort of, it wasn’t one of the better neighborhoods in Dublin, but not the worst. It was okay, I had Jack.”

Interesting, I thought. Seamus had not grown up wealthy and yet he had no bitterness about his less than ideal childhood. I admired him for that. Seamus was a good driver. He took his time on the wet roads. We arrived at Gracie’s a few minutes late, but I wasn’t concerned. The rain was still pouring down when Seamus parked along the curb outside of Grace’s condo. He looked at me and said, “Shall we, on the count of three, make a run for it?” His eyes gleamed with mischief.

We grabbed our umbrellas and on the count of three, made a mad run for the cover of Gracie’s porch. She saw us
coming and opened the door.

“It’s a good thing you have umbrellas. Please, come on in.”

We walked into the short hall and then into the living room, everyone was there. I looked at Darren and then to Alex. “I hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed the two umbrellas that were left on top of the trunk.”

Gracie took the umbrellas, saying, “I’ll leave these open to dry and set them down on some newspapers in the kitchen. Have a seat. May I bring coffee to you?”

We both agreed to coffee. Alex was sitting on the sofa, the way he had the other night and there was an obviously empty spot next to him. I sat next to Alex. Seamus sat in a chair off to my side. Alex introduced Seamus to Francisco and Ruben and when Grace set coffee mugs on the table in front of us, Alex introduced Seamus to her. The immediate rapport between Grace and Seamus was electric.

Gracie started the meeting. “Ruben has gone through all the video from the other night in the dressing room at the Regency. And well, there is an intriguing find. But you need to see for yourselves.”

“Yeah, let me show you.” Ruben set up a laptop computer on the coffee table and directed it toward Alex and myself. “The rest of us can see this too, if we stand behind the sofa. It’s only a few minutes long.”

Once we were assembled and everyone had a good view of the computer’s screen, Ruben set up the video by remote control. Grace introduced the clip we were about to see.

“This appeared right after Shannon asked, is Gertrude Straub here tonight? The video is of the dressing mirror in the room.”

In rapt attention my eyes locked onto the computer screen. I heard myself ask the question about Gertrude and then in the mirror a smoky mist gradually appeared. It took on the silhouetted form of two people bent over at the waist, one at each end of a large rectangular box. I heard Alex whisper, “That’s the trunk crate.”

We were mesmerized as we witnessed two women bend down and grab a hold of what appeared to be a rug or a cloth the that crate was on. Then, ever so faintly, we heard one woman say, “You pull on the rug and I’ll push.” The trunk began to move. It slid across the floor and out of range of the mirror.

The screen went blank. Ruben said, “That’s all there is.”

I’ll always wonder about what happened afterward because it was Darren who spoke first and he directed his comment at me. “Shannon, did we just witness Marla and Gertrude secretly moving a large crate? Probably the very same crate that had the trunk in it, the same trunk that’s in your cottage?”

All eyes were on me.

Chapter 35

“I believe what you say is true. And it would explain why Marla said she needed extra time on that last night she was at the theater. She did not want the extra time for undressing and getting out of her costume. Instead, that extra time was to do this, what we just witnessed. Marla and Gertrude, whom by the way, Marla called Trudy, were in the last stages of a very crafty plan. I discovered revealing details about their life, after Marla left California and after Trudy divorced her husband Lincoln Straub. They were cousins, who had grown up together in Baton Rouge and their plan was brilliant, they succeeded in every way, except in living happily ever after. Neither woman lived very long. But before I go into these details, I’d like those of us, who had research assignments to share what they found out. Francisco, did you discover more information about the Straubs’ life in Los Angeles?”