The Billionaire’s Curse (16 page)

G
erald skirted the hedges to keep out of sight of the house on his way to the tennis pavilion, his backpack bouncing on his shoulders. It was only three days before Midsummer’s Eve, and the moon on the horizon was almost full. Sam and Ruby were already at the tennis court, discussing what had happened at dinner.

“Don’t you see?” Ruby was saying, “The major and his mother are hard up at the moment. You heard Mrs. Rutherford—the unpaid bills, the house needing repairs—they’re desperate for cash.”

“Yeah, so what?” Sam said. “That doesn’t make the major a killer.”

Ruby groaned.

“Oh, don’t be so thick. The major stole the diamond so he can sell it. It’s worth one hundred million pounds, remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” Sam said. “I also remember the inspector saying it would be impossible to sell because it’s so famous. Had you forgotten that?” He screwed up his face at his sister. “What do you think, Gerald?”

The sound of a dog barking echoed across the hills.

“I think I don’t want to get into any family arguments. Come on, let’s go.”

Gerald hoisted his battered backpack and led the way down the hill toward the lower meadow. He had a bottle of water and some flashlights that he’d found in the pantry, but it didn’t look like they’d be needed. The moon cast a ghostly hue over the landscape. They walked near a line of chestnut trees that ran down one side of the fields, making good progress through the ankle-high grass.

After a while, Sam prompted Gerald again. “You think the major is the killer?”

“No,” Gerald replied. “I think the thin man killed Geraldine. But I think he was acting on someone’s orders. And I don’t think that someone is the major. There’s something else going on here.”

“Well, if you think the major’s innocent, why are we doing a midnight dash over to his place?” Sam asked.

Ruby interrupted before Gerald could speak. “Oh, don’t be so gullible, it’s because of the diamond box. The thin man is after the casket and so is the major. It’s supposed to be hidden on this peak of eternal light, which the major reckons is on his property. Sam, you are so dim sometimes.”

Sam stopped walking.

“You don’t have to be nasty,” he said.

“What?” Ruby pulled up and turned to face her brother.

“Just because I’m not thinking the exact same thing as you doesn’t mean I’m stupid or gullible,” Sam said.

Ruby took a breath. “I’m sorry, Sam,” she said. “I get ahead of myself sometimes. I’m sorry if I’ve been mean to you.” She walked back and took hold of his hands and squeezed. “I’ll try to do better, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Good. Now, an interesting thing about the word
gullible
,” Ruby said as they continued up the grassy slope. “It’s the only word that’s not in the dictionary.”

“Really?” said Sam.

Gerald tried to catch Ruby’s eye, but she had suddenly found the night sky intensely interesting.

At the top of the rise they stopped. They were looking into a small valley bathed in silver moonlight. On the far side they could make out a large house, fingers of smoke curling up into the night sky from the chimneys. A clockface in a tower at one end of the building glowed a faint amber. They could just hear the chimes marking midnight. But most striking of all was not the house or the expanse of grounds or orchards around it, but the sight of an enormous conical hill in the distance. On the top of the hill, clear against the night sky, a lone tower stood sentinel over the valley.

“What do you make of that?” Sam whispered.

“Looks a bit like a lighthouse, doesn’t it?” Gerald replied.

“Bit far inland for that, don’t you think?” Ruby said. “And it’s missing something if it’s a lighthouse.”

“What’s that?”

“A light.”

Gerald shouldered his pack and they set off into the valley. After twenty minutes of clambering over stiles and dodging cows and cowpats, they emerged out of some woods into a rose garden. A stone stairway at the far end led up to a large terrace. An enormous house loomed over them.

“You’re kidding,” Gerald whispered as he gazed up at the building. “It looks like Dracula’s wedding cake.”

The house at Beaconsfield was indeed a bizarre sight. It stood three stories tall and looked like it had been transplanted direct from Transylvania.

Ivy grew thick up the lower sections of the gray stone walls, twisting around ancient columns and tangling through moss-coated archways. The house was topped with spires, gothic turrets, and chimneys that probed the sky. Gargoyles clung to the ledges of the upper floors, and two enormous bats were sculpted into the walls, their mouths contorted in silent screams. An overwhelming sense of decay enshrouded the place. The pitched roof of what appeared to be a large chapel could be seen behind one wing of the house. At the other end of the building stood the clock tower, the amber eye of the clockface staring down at them. Sam tugged at Gerald’s sleeve and pointed to the top of the tower.

“Look familiar?”

Gerald looked up. Atop the tower, clear in the moonlight, was a large weathervane. Not the traditional rooster, but a man with a bow and arrow—the same archer that stood guard at the gates of Avonleigh.

“What’s that doing there?” Gerald said.

A breeze rustled the leaves of the rosebushes behind them. The archer didn’t move, his arrow remained pointing resolutely west.

“This place is creep central.” Ruby shivered. “Hell of a place for a party, don’t you—”

A light flickered on in one of the rooms above the terrace and spilled onto the expanse of tiles.

Ruby and Gerald stopped. Sam dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to the base of the stairs.

“Sam,” Ruby whispered.

Her brother glanced back, then scurried up the stairs, stopping at the top to hide behind a large pot.

Ruby turned to Gerald. “What’s he doing?”

Gerald shrugged, not taking his eyes off Sam. At the top of the stairs Sam signaled for them to follow. Then he disappeared onto the terrace.

“I take it back,” Ruby fumed. “He is an idiot. Come on, before he gets into trouble.”

They hurried up the stairs, ducked behind the large pot, and peered out from either side. The terrace was lit by the moon and the light shining through glass doors about twenty yards away. Gerald could see Major Pilkington inside, standing behind a desk at one end of a long room. At the other end, sitting in an armchair, was an elderly woman.

“His mother?” Gerald whispered.

Ruby nodded. “Where’s Sam?”

Gerald scanned the terrace and finally spotted Sam, lying on his stomach behind a line of shrubs just a few feet from the major. He was resting his chin in his hands and idly waggling his feet in the air.

“He won’t die from stress, will he?” Gerald whispered to Ruby.

Ruby muttered, “Come on, then.”

They crept onto the terrace and scuttled across to join Sam, who looked up as they slid in beside him.

“What took you so—”

Ruby pressed her index finger to Sam’s lips.

The sound of voices drifted onto the terrace through an open window above the glass doors.

“Think, Mother. You’ve lived here all your life. Surely you’ve heard of it.” The major’s voice rang out into the night.

Gerald had to strain to hear the reply.

“I’ve tried, dear. But it’s no use. It doesn’t sound familiar at all.”

“Take another look at the map, then. The peak of eternal light.”

Gerald motioned for the others to stay still and he poked his head out of the shrubbery. He could make out the major and his mother studying a large piece of paper on the desk.

“It’s no use, Horatio. It doesn’t ring any bells.”

The major exhaled. “We’ve only got three days. It must be here. It has to be here.”

“I’m tired, Horatio, and I’m going to bed. There’s still a lot to organize for the party.”

“Don’t you understand? If I don’t find this box there won’t be any more parties. There won’t be any more anything.”

The major shook his head and followed his mother out of the room, switching off the light as he closed the door.

The terrace was silent for a few minutes as the Valentines and Gerald waited. Light filled a window on the floor above and then it too was extinguished. From the clock tower came a single resonating bong—one o’clock.

Gerald, Ruby, and Sam crept across to the French doors.

Sam tried the handle but the door was locked. He glanced up at the window above the door. It was still open.

He turned to Ruby. “Think you can do it?” he asked.

Ruby studied the opening. It was about twelve feet off the ground.

“Yep.” She nodded. “No problem.”

Gerald blinked. “How are you going to climb up there? It’s glass—there are no footholds.”

Ruby winked at him. She took Sam by the shoulders and positioned him under the window with his back to the door.

“Ready?” she asked.

Sam bent his knees, cupped his hands in front of him and nodded. “Yep, ready.”

Ruby walked halfway across the terrace, turned, and ran straight at her brother. A few paces away she leaped into the air, landing one foot hard into the stirrup of Sam’s hands, the other onto his shoulder and then with her arms outstretched and palms together over her head she launched herself up and through the open window. Her feet just cleared the sill as she tucked into a ball and tumbled smoothly onto the rug inside the major’s study. Seconds later she stood at the open French doors, a broad grin on her face.

“School gymnastics champion, three years in a row!” she puffed.

Sam and Gerald hurried inside and shut the doors behind them.

“That was awesome!” Gerald breathed.

“Well, I find chess boring,” Ruby said.

Gerald handed them each a flashlight from his backpack.

They crossed to the desk and found the map still unrolled. Three flashlights shone down to show a detailed chart of Beaconsfield and its surroundings. Gerald traced his finger across the paper.

“Here’s the boundary with Avonleigh, and this is where we came to get here. And this must be that hill we saw, the one with the tower on it.”

Sam peered closer.

“Do you think that could be where the peak is?” he asked.

“Maybe, but by the sound of it the major has searched all over this area,” Ruby said. “And the rest of these hills seem pretty small—hardly what you’d call a peak.”

Gerald swung his torch around the room. The walls were hung with oils of gloomy landscapes and the occasional racehorse. The armchairs and couches all showed signs of age. The large Oriental rug that covered most of the floor was threadbare in several places. There was an oil heater in one corner and a grandfather clock stood by the door, its hands on midnight. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust.

“Doesn’t look like the cleaners have been through lately,” Gerald said, directing his light onto the wall behind the desk.

A mantelpiece over a large fireplace was dotted with curios and keepsakes, souvenirs of a lifetime in the military. Gerald picked up a small wooden box with an elaborate inlaid pattern.

Ruby shivered. “Is it just me, or is it particularly cold in here?”

Gerald shone his flashlight into the fireplace. The grate contained an arrangement of dried flowers, which, like everything else in the room, was covered in dust.

“That’s a bit odd, isn’t it?”

“What’s that?” Ruby said.

“Those flowers have been there forever. That fireplace hasn’t been used for ages.”

“It’s summer. People don’t light fires.”

“But we saw smoke coming from a couple of chimneys when we were on top of the hill. And there’s an oil heater over there in the corner.” Gerald crouched down and ran his finger over the bottom of the grate. “No ash at all. This fireplace is the cleanest thing in the room.”

“What are you saying?” Ruby asked.

“Well, maybe this fireplace is used for something other than fires. Maybe it’s hiding something?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. But it could be a good place to stash a stolen diamond.”

Ruby looked at Gerald. “You want to look for a hidden passage behind a fireplace in a rundown gothic mansion in the middle of the English countryside?”

“Uh…yes.”

“Bit of a cliché, don’t you think?”

“It’s only a cliché if you’ve heard it before,” Gerald said. He shone his flashlight around the inside of the fireplace. “It’s worth having a look.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, there’ll be lashings of hidden passages around here. Then maybe we could go searching for smugglers. How wizard!” She watched scornfully as Sam and Gerald scoured the mantelpiece for any sign of a lever that might open a secret doorway.

“What are we looking for exactly?” Sam asked, as he ran his fingers along the length of the tiled backing behind the mantelpiece.

“I don’t know—some sort of panel that slides out of the way or a button or something,” Gerald said. “Anything that might—” He stopped. From outside came the squeak of a floorboard.

“Hide!” said Ruby in an urgent whisper. The flashlights flicked off. Sam flung himself behind a couch and Ruby disappeared into a dark corner hidden behind a hanging tapestry. Gerald didn’t know which way to go. Across the room, the door opened. He dropped to the floor and rolled under the desk, just as the light came on.

Gerald lay on his side and pressed himself hard against the front of the desk. The squeak of floorboards came nearer until a pair of tattered tartan slippers came to a halt a yard from his head. The major turned on a lamp, then took something from the top of the mantel. Gerald edged forward to get a better look.

It was the wooden box that he had been looking at earlier. The major turned it over in his hands, then slid out a small panel that was part of the inlay. Under the panel was a switch, which in turn popped open another hidden panel on the other side of the box. The major shuffled the box in his hands, sliding panels and pushing buttons until at last there was a faint click and the top of the box opened.

From his hiding place under the desk, Gerald saw the major pull out a square of paper. But then his view was blocked as the major moved. For minutes all Gerald could see was a curtain of dressing gown. Then the major stood back from the desk, put the paper back in the box and returned it to the mantel.