Nabbed!: The 1925 Journal of G. Codd Fitzmorgan (10 page)

With a click, the secret door swung open!

Long, terrifying seconds passed as Judge and I kept our positions.

Who would emerge from the secret passage? Would we be able to subdue him or her? Would the person have a weapon and attack
us?

The wind whistled, clouds blew overhead, distant waves crashed against the island's shore. But no one opened the hidden door.

“Whoever it was must have turned back,” Judge said. I didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved. We had no way of
opening the door from this side, so we turned our thoughts to the investigation.

The hidden airstrip!

“G. Codd, what did you discover?”
Judge asked.

I described the items I had found in the tower's broadcast room. I told her I thought they'd been used to trick the guests
into thinking they were watching the plane land.

“You mean John might not even have landed at all? He could be lost at sea or…” Her voice trailed off.

Not knowing what to say, I glanced around. We were somewhere behind the mansion. Tall, dark pine trees loomed over us, their
branches whipping in the wind. Suddenly we heard a strange flapping noise coming from the forest.

“What's that?” Judge asked.

I don't know,” I said, “but I think we'd better go and find out.” Cautiously we made our way through the dim light under the
trees.

“Look—up ahead—I think there's a clearing,” Judge said softly.

We broke through the trees and found ourselves standing on the edge a long, grassy field. I took in the wind socks flapping
in the wind, and the trees that had been cleared to create a long, rectangular space.

“It's a hidden airstrip!” I said. The questions in my mind quadrupled as I looked down toward the end of the runway. I could
barely see the outline of a large objects sitting there.

Judge and I went to take a look. A tarp made of camouflage material covered a giant lump underneath. By now it was pretty
clear what the lump was.

Together, we pulled at the wet tarp—and found ourselves face to propeller with an aircraft.

“Another plane!” I cried. I noticed it was the same model as JENNY, John's airplane. “Did you know about this?”

“No,” Judge answered. “I've been here many times and I never even knew there was another airstrip. From the looks of those
stumps, the trees were just recently cut down to create this landing area.”

“Let's look inside,” I said. The door opened easily, and I peered into the cockpit. The fuel gauge read full. But the inside
of this airplane was as empty as the other one. At least that's what I thought until I noticed an object that must have rolled
to the back of the storage area.

I lifted the bottle carefully by its lip, not wanting to disturb any existing fingerprints.

“Can I have your handkerchief, G. Codd?”

I fished it out of my pocket with my other hand and gave it to her. She wrapped her right hand in the cloth and carefully
took the bottle from me, not wanting to smudge or destroy any evidence.

Judge held the bottle under her nose and winced. “It's Scotch,” she said.

“What?” I had heard her, but I found it hard to believe.

She nodded. “There was a kind of whiskey in this bottle. You can still smell it. If the bottle wasn't empty, It'd be illegal
to even be holding it. It would also be extremely valuable on the black market.”

“But it is empty…”

“Thank goodness. For a moment, I thought John might be mixed up in something,” Judge said. “But this isn't even his plane!
His plane is outside the Great Hall, so where did this one come from?”

“Is it from the fleet of your air courier business?” I asked. “Maybe it's here to make a delivery?”

Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the craft. “I don't recognize it. But I brought the business records and books with me
this weekend. I had planned to go over a few things with John's father. The books are in my room. Let's go check and see whether
this type of plane is listed there.”

With Judge carrying the bottle, the two of us started back toward the house. Just then a thought struck me, and I stopped.

“What is it?” Judge asked.

“Wait one second,” I told her, turning back to the second airplane. “I have to grab something.”

Back in the Great Hall

The Great Hall was quiet. Several
butlers scurried about the room, but there were no guests in sight. They must still have
been in their rooms.

Or vanished, I thought to myself.

Judge and I made our way up the grand staircase to the main part of the mansion. She insisted that we stop in the kitchen
for something to eat.

Minutes later, after we had wolfed down roast beef sandwiches, we were moving again. To get to Judge's room we had to make
our way through a twisting maze of hallways and staircases.

By the time we reached her room, we were both beat. “It will just take a second,” Judge was saying as she pushed open the
door. She froze. My mouth dropped open at what I saw inside.

As she had asked, the staff had brought the engagement presents up to Judge's room. At that time, they were all still wrapped.
That was no longer the case. Among other things, a silver goblet and a rather ugly teakettle had been liberated from their
packaging. Fancy gold paper and expensive ribbons lay in pieces everywhere.

Asyla was opening Judge's presents!

And who was the cause of all this chaos?

None other than Asyla Notabe. Perched on Judge's bed, Asyla was busy trying to open one of the boxes she had just unwrapped.
It was the large box I'd seen in the back parlor.

“Asyla!” Judge cried.

For a split second, Asyla had the grace to look embarrassed. Then that strange smile was back on her face. She said sarcastically,
“Oh, no, have I been caught in the act?”

“What are you doing?” I asked, astounded.

“I was bored.” Sweeping back her long hair, Asyla glared at Judge. “You invite us here for an entire weekend of events, and
then you cancel everything. Opening your presents seemed like a good way to kill time.”

Before Judge or I could reply, Asyla dumped the box on the bed, leaped up, and rushed from the room.

The packages on the bed jostled together as the mattress bounced from her speedy departure. The large box tumbled toward the
side of the bed.

“Stop!” I cried, shouting at the box as if it were a dog that could obey commands. The box fell to the hardwood floor with
a surprising crash. A sudden powerful odor—like something you might smell in a doctor's office—stopped me in my tracks.

I looked at Judge in shock and said, “That smells like…”

“Scotch.” She finished my sentence for me. “This box contains liquor.”

“Hooch? Booze?” I asked and saw the corners of her mouth twitch in a little smile at my outburst. I couldn't resist trying
to get her to smile more. I rambled off a few other slang names for liquor. “Giggle water? Bootleg? Moonshine? Coffin varnish?
Firewater? Hair of the dog?”

“Yes, G. Codd, yes.” I could see she was trying hard to smile. “And that means we now have an illegal substance leaking all
over my room. Grab some towels from my washbasin, please. We need to get this cleaned up.”