Ghouls, Ghouls, Ghouls (23 page)
Read Ghouls, Ghouls, Ghouls Online
Authors: Victoria Laurie
Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General
“So, you two are saying that Gopher’s not even at the castle?”
I hesitated before answering, thinking that through. At last I told him what I honestly thought. “No, that’s not quite what we’re saying. What we mean is that when we’ve gone there to try and feel out Gopher’s energy, we haven’t been able to. He could be there, or he might not, but from where we were standing, he wasn’t within our intuitive range.”
“There is a way to find out for sure,” Heath said.
My heart sank. I knew what he was going to suggest, and it filled me with dread.
“What’s that?” asked Gil.
“Now that the backpack M. J. found has given us plenty of magnetically charged spikes, we could storm the castle and see if we can find Gopher.”
Gilley visibly paled. “You mean, you’d go in there and face the phantom head-on?”
“With enough magnets, I don’t know that it’ll be able to come anywhere near us. What do you think, M. J.?”
Truthfully, I thought that I’d rather join John, Kim, and Meg on that plane home, but what I said was, “If we’re both loaded down with enough magnets, then it might keep the phantom at bay, and any other spook, which, in theory, would allow us to only focus on Gopher’s energy.”
Gilley’s face clearly expressed that he wasn’t so into the idea. “You people are crazy!”
“What else would you suggest, Gil? I mean, at this point, I think we’re out of options.”
“You could wait for me to pull more off that recording or find out who this Alex person is!”
“You broke the camera, remember?” I said, a bit frustrated.
Gilley’s eyes narrowed. “I saved the recording on my computer, M. J. I mean, what do you take me for, an amateur?”
I was about to make a snarky reply, but Heath interrupted with a question for Gil. “Were you able to pull anything else off the recording?”
Gilley focused all his attention on Heath. “As a matter of fact, I did. I managed to get the words
Amérique du Sud
off the recording.”
Amérique du Sud
off the recording.”
“America?” I asked. I don’t speak a lick of French.
“South America,” Heath corrected.
Gilley rocked back on his heels. “Exactly.”
I shook my head. “But what does that have to do with anything?”
“I have no idea,” said Gilley, “but I know it’s important. I mean, why would Bouvet say the word ‘South America’ when he was talking to his buddy right before the phantom showed up?”
Heath’s brow lifted with a sudden realization. “Hey, M. J., didn’t Mary say that Jordan found Alex living in Peru right before he convinced her to come here?”
I thought back and remembered the conversation quite clearly. “Yeah, but
how
does that connect to all this?”
how
does that connect to all this?”
No one answered me, but it was clear to each of us that there was in fact a connection.
My attention, however, went back to the letter. Lifting it from Gilley, I said, “I think we need to take this to Constable O’Grady.”
Heath cocked his head. “Why?”
“Because on the off chance that Gopher has actually been kidnapped by a living, breathing person, we need to tell the police.”
Heath nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
“While you guys are informing the authorities, I’ll get back to finding this mysterious Alex from Russia but living in Peru.”
I studied him for a minute before I asked, “How long do you think that will take?” Gilley opened his mouth to answer and I cut him off by adding, “And please don’t lowball it, Gil. Tell me honestly.”
He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Maybe a few days,” he said. “Three at the most.”
I shook my head. “That’s way too long.”
“You guys haven’t given me enough useful information to find her!” he nearly shouted. “Do you know how many Alexandra N-A-R-somethings there
are
in the world?”
are
in the world?”
“Which is why we have to go back to the castle and do a thorough search,” I said gently. I eased my arm around his shoulders. Gilley looked like he was about to protest again, but I cut him off by saying, “We’ll be very, very careful. I pinkie swear.”
Gilley wasn’t assured. “But, M. J., if you both get into trouble, who’s going to help you? We’ve lost half our team already! You’d be leaving just me behind to figure all this out!”
“So we won’t get into trouble,” I vowed. “We’ll keep all our magnets exposed, search the castle as quickly as we can, and get out.”
Gilley looked down at his feet and pulled out from under my arm to trudge up the steps. “Well, I don’t like it,” he said moodily. “Not one little bit!”
Chapter 10
After we’d settled on a plan, Heath and I headed to the constable station and found O’Grady right away. “Afternoon to ya!” he said with a warm smile. “Come to tell me you’ve found your friend, I hope?”
“No,” I said wearily. “Unfortunately not. We do have something we want you to look at, however.” Pulling the envelope out of my back pocket, I handed it to the constable and waited while he read the letter tucked inside.
“What’s this supposed to mean, then?” he asked, lifting his eyes back up to mine.
“We don’t really know,” I said. “But we think by the tone of that letter that maybe someone knows where Peter is, and they’re not going to tell us unless we try to get rid of the phantom.”
O’Grady looked thoroughly puzzled. “But why would they do that?” he asked. “After all, if they knew where to find your friend, they should tell you, now, shouldn’t they?”
“In a perfect world, yes,” said Heath. “But we think that maybe the person who wrote this might have had something to do with our producer’s disappearance.”
Quinn sucked in a breath. “You mean, you believe the letter is referring to a kidnapping?”
I nodded reluctantly. “Yes.”
O’Grady’s reaction surprised me. He actually laughed. “Oh, you Americans!” he said, thoroughly amused. But when he saw our serious expressions, he quickly sobered. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just that here in Dunlee we don’t see much in the way of crime, you know. I think we’re a far more simple folk than you lot from the U.S. Kidnapping is quite out of our league, you see.”
“So, you don’t think that someone could have taken him?”
“No, miss, I truly don’t.”
“Then why would someone write that?” I pressed, pointing back to the letter.
O’Grady read the text again before answering. “What I think you might have here is a bit of mischief from some young lads with nothing better to do than antagonize some poor foreigners,” he said sadly. “And I think I know just the ones to reprimand.”
I thought back to the three boys Mary had caught stealing from the library. I felt embarrassed for having brought the letter in then, as when I looked at it from that perspective, I could clearly see the prank. “Thank you, sir,” I said, motioning for Heath to go. “Sorry to have bothered you with this.”
“Think nothing of it,” O’Grady said. “And come round to me pub later and have a pint on me,” he said kindly.
Heath and I headed back to the inn and found Gilley typing furiously on his keyboard, attempting to locate the mysterious Alexandra. We left him to his task and Heath and I busied ourselves getting ready by laying out warm clothes and double-checking the supply of magnets. Gilley had graciously lent me the use of his sweatshirt, as it was too tight on Heath and he planned to carry the backpack of spikes anyway.
We also went over our plans at the dining room table, drawing a rough outline of the castle from memory. As Heath was sketching it out on paper, the front door to the B&B opened and Mary from the library stepped into the hall. “Oh, hello! ” she said when she saw us. “I’ve been looking for you two.”
“Mary!” called Anya, coming out of the kitchen to greet the newcomer warmly. “I was just putting the finishing touches on some supper for my guests. Would you care to stay for a warm meal?”
Mary blushed. “Oh, thank you, Anya, but I really can’t. I must get home to my Charlie. You know how he hates it when his supper’s late.”
“Oh, very well, then, dear, I won’t beg you to stay. But have you come round for a cup of tea with me, then? Any new gossip to share?” Anya’s eyes were sparkling with interest.
Mary eyed Heath and me uncomfortably, her blush deepening. “Oh, that’s so lovely of you, Anya, to offer me a cup of tea, but I’m afraid I can’t stay long and I’ve actually come round to speak with those two.”
Anya’s head swiveled curiously to Heath and me. “Oh, of course!” she said warmly. “I’d forgotten you two were at the library earlier. Well, I’ll leave you three to it, then. I best get back to the kitchen. That meal’s not going to cook itself.” And off she padded.
Mary came into the dining room and swept a hand in the direction of a chair at the head of the table. “May I?”
“Of course,” Heath and I said together.
Mary sat down across from us. “After you left the library, I remembered something I should have thought to mention, but I believe I was still a wee bit distracted by those naughty lads,” she began. “I know someone who has a copy of the blueprints to the castle.”
“Who?” I asked anxiously.
“Bartholemew Mulholland. Bertie for short.”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “There’s a
living
Mulholland heir to Dunnyvale?”
living
Mulholland heir to Dunnyvale?”
“Aye,” said Mary. “And Bertie’s a lovely chap with a wonderful sense of adventure. He used to write travel books, you see, and his writing took him all over the world before an accident many years ago robbed him of the use of his legs. Hasn’t stopped him from enjoying life, though, no. He still gets up every morning and tends to his garden and writes a few articles here and there. I believe you’ll find him lovely company.”
“And he has a copy of the blueprints?” I said, wanting to be sure.
“Oh, aye! I made it for him myself several years ago. Bertie loves history and maps and such. He’s quite a scholar on Irish folklore and myth too. I’m sure he’ll want to help you in whatever way he can.”
Heath smiled. “Where can we find him?”
“Oh, Bertie’s house you can’t miss. It’s at the very top of Marney Lane, within walking distance actually. If you turn left at the end of this street and just follow the road up a wee bit, you’ll find it. Just look for the blue mailbox with the name Mulholland on it.”
We thanked Mary profusely and saw her out. “Should we go now?” I asked Heath the moment the door was closed.
“Supper’s ready!” Anya called from the dining room.
I heard Heath’s stomach grumble almost at the same moment I heard Gilley’s fast footfalls on the stairs.
“After dinner,” he promised.
“Okay,” I agreed.
We ate a quick but delicious meal and left Gilley in the middle of his second portion. I didn’t want to mention it then, but he was looking a little rounder to me, and I wondered if he might be stuffing all the anxiety of this bust down with a few too many calories.
The night was chilly, but otherwise clear, and Heath and I walked along the road without passing a soul. “Everyone must be eating supper,” I said.
“Do you think it’ll be okay to ring Mulholland’s doorbell during the dinner hour?”
I eyed my own watch nervously. “I think it’s a mistake to wait too late. Gilley says the low tide will crest around nine p.m. If we hit the causeway by then, we’ll have two full hours to search the castle and hustle back home.”
“What time is it now?”
“A little after seven.”
“If we interrupt his dinner, we can always say we eat early in America.”
“We do?”
“No. But he might not know that.”
“Good point.”
We continued along the road as it wove around to point toward the sea before angling up at a steep slope. From there it wound a bit more in an S curve until we rounded the last bend and there, in front of us, was a huge home sitting atop the peak of a cliff overlooking the channel.
“Whoa,” I said, seeing the house and marveling at both it and the view. It was so large compared with all the other quaint little gingerbread houses we’d seen dot the village that both Heath and I stopped midstride.
“Is
that
Mulholland’s place?” he asked.
that
Mulholland’s place?” he asked.
“Has to be,” I said, pointing to the blue mailbox.
“I thought his family was broke.”
“Guess there’s more money in travel books than I thought.”
We moved quickly to the door, anxious to see the inside. Heath rang the bell and after a few moments we heard someone call, “Coming!”
We waited a few more moments before the door was opened and I had to drop my gaze a bit. Bertie Mulholland was sitting in a mechanized wheelchair with a plaid blanket thrown over his legs. “Good evening to you,” he said with a smile.
He didn’t appear the slightest put out by the appearance of two strangers at his door, so Heath and I quickly introduced ourselves before getting right to the point. “We’re here because Mary from the library said you might be able to help us,” I told him.
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