The Mystery in Dracula's Castle (4 page)

But Alfie wasn't listening. He was sizing up the possibilities for filming the circular tower and the connecting oblong building. "That was probably used for a garage, I guess," Alfie said, pointing to the storage building. "It's the lighthouse itself I'd film — Dracula's Castle! And we wouldn't be bothering anybody here. Come on, Leonard. Let's see if we can get inside."

Leonard hung back. "Alfie, we'd better not."

Alfie groaned. "I might have known — scared again."

"I am not!"

"Then come on." Alfie marched around to the entrance of the lighthouse and turned the doorknob. The door creaked spookily and swung inward.

"Man! Hear that creak!" Alfie's voice rose with excitement. He closed and then opened the door again. "Listen to that! Wow! If I only had sound equipment!" He stepped into the building and Watson squeezed past him.

"Watson!" Leonard called out softly. "Come back."

But Watson was as interested as Alfie in exploring. Leonard hesitated, then stepped inside.

Hazy sunlight filtered through the windows, making shadow patterns on the circular staircase. Alfie almost jumped in delight. "Look at those shadows! Look at those stairs! What a shot!" He looked up into the iron skeleton of the circular stairs. "I know just how I'd do it — Dracula climbing up, up, up. And his shadow would be like a bat, and it would loom across the walls at every step."

There was no reply from Leonard. He was paying no attention to shadows, but he was paying a lot of attention to the things spread out on the worktable. He didn't need his magnifying glass to see the mallets, chisels, and jimmy-bar, but he whipped the glass out of his pocket to examine more closely the letters printed on the box on the table: DYNAMITE.

"Hey, Alfie," he called. "Alfie."

"I'm up here," Alfie's voice called back from the next floor. "Come on up. I've just discovered somebody's laboratory!"

Leonard's heart thumped. Where there were laboratories there were usually mad scientists. And about the last thing Leonard wanted to do was to discover a mad scientist. But almost anything was better than being alone with a box of dynamite. Slowly, he went up the winding stairs to the second floor.

At the top floor of the lighthouse, in the seclusion and bright light of the glassed-in lantern gallery, Keith Raynor heard the voices of the uninvited visitors. Hastily he lifted the Daumier necklace off the drawing board and slipped it into his pocket. Then he went quickly to the open trapdoor and looked down the staircase.

Alfie's voice floated up to him. "This is the place where mad scientists do their experiments. Just look at all those bottles and tubes!"

Then he heard Leonard's quavering voice: "What kind of experiments?"

"Transplants…brains, glands, hands,
everything
," came the reply. "You know, Frankenstein, Wasp Woman."

Why, it was only two kids and a dog. One of the kids was dressed in a funny-looking long black cape. Keith crept on down.

Watson suddenly gave a low growl.

"Alfie." Leonard grabbed his brother. "Let's get out of here."

"What are you kids doing down there?" Keith Raynor called out roughly. He came thumping the rest of the way down the stairs.

Leonard's voice trembled out. "Are you the mad scientist?"

Keith Raynor burst out laughing. He flicked a light switch and immediately the "mad scientist's laboratory" turned into an artist's workshop. Daubs of color were everywhere and sheet-draped canvas paintings were propped around the walls. "No. I'm not a mad scientist. I'm an artist — Keith Raynor. And who are you? Dracula?"

"Oh, no," Leonard answered quickly. "I'm Leonard Booth. And this is my dog, Watson."

"And I'm Alfie," said Alfie.

"I wish I could say I was glad to meet you," Keith Raynor said. "Do you want to explain why you're here, or should I call the sheriff?"

Alfie gasped. "The sheriff! What for? We haven't done anything."

"No?" replied the artist. "I'd say you've done something — it's called 'breaking and entering'."

"We didn't break anything," Alfie said.

"The door wasn't locked. We just entered," Leonard added, truthfully.

Keith Raynor looked from one boy to the other. "Why?"

Alfie spoke up. "I'm making a film —
Dracula
. My brother's playing the lead role. And this would be a great location — it's really a weird layout."

"It looks like a torture chamber," Leonard said.

Keith Raynor smiled. "First time I've heard an artist's workshop called a torture chamber." He waved his hand toward the paints, brushes, and easels. "I paint pictures for a living."

"Then what's the dynamite for?" Leonard asked.

"
Dynamite
!" Keith Raynor and Alfie Booth exclaimed together.

"Yes, dynamite. It's on the table downstairs."

There was a long pause. Then Keith Raynor laughed. "Oh,
that
. You mean my fireworks. I had to label them 'dynamite' just in case the sheriff saw the box. You know fireworks are unlawful in this county."

"Real fireworks?" Alfie asked. "Wow! Are you going to set them off on the Fourth of July?"

Keith Raynor looked uneasy. "Oh, no! Labor Day, maybe."

"Maybe I could work them into a movie," Alfie said eagerly.

"Maybe you could," the artist replied. "But if you want to help me with the fireworks on Labor Day you'll have to go now."

Alfie sighed. "Too bad. This really
is
Dracula's Castle."

"Sorry," Keith Raynor said. "But that's the way it has to be."

Alfie nodded sadly. "Okay. Come on, Leonard. I'll just have to change the shooting schedule again."

As the boys and Watson left the lighthouse and started down the driveway, the door behind them closed and locked. Alfie looked back. "Listen, Leonard — I want to get some shots of the castle. You go back to the steps. It'll just take us a second."

"But the man said —" Leonard began.

"Go on, Leonard," Alfie said firmly. "It'll be all right."

No sooner had Alfie spoken, than Noah Baxter swung the Volkswagen into the drive. The boys ducked out of sight, but Watson, who had just settled himself, didn't stir.

"We'd better go, Alfie," Leonard urged.

Alfie shook his head. "I've just got to get my title shot, at least. Wait, Leonard. He'll be going in. They won't notice us."

Noah Baxter stopped the car at the entrance to the storage room and honked the horn twice. Almost immediately, Keith Raynor opened the door.

Noah stepped from the car. "Give me a hand with this," the boys heard him say.

As the two men lifted a small but heavy safe from the seat of the car, Noah dropped the shiny car keys. Like a shot from a gun, Watson was after them. Silver — his favorite color!

Without thinking, Noah Baxter dropped his end of the safe, nearly crushing Keith Raynor's toes. He was off at top speed after Watson, who had already skidded to a stop and dropped the keys at Leonard's feet.

"What are you kids doing here?" he called out angrily.

"We're making a film," Alfie called back. "Mr. Raynor knows all about it."

"Making
film
!" Noah exclaimed. He strode up to the boys, picked up the car keys, and grabbed Alfie's camera.

"Hey! that's mine," Alfie exclaimed. "Give it back."

Keith Raynor caught up with Noah. "Give him back his camera, Noah," he said quietly. "I'll take care of this."

"You'd better!" Noah scowled as he returned the camera to Alfie.

Keith Raynor looked from Leonard to Alfie. "I asked you boys in a nice way to go. Now I'll have to do something drastic. I'll have to speak to your parents."

Alfie and Leonard looked at each other, and then up at Keith Raynor.

"Our
parent
, you mean," Leonard said. "We've only got one."

Alfie said nothing. He knew that in a case like this, one parent was drastic enough.

Mrs. Booth was just opening the screen door as Alfie, Leonard, Watson, and Keith Raynor came up the porch steps.

"Mrs. Booth?" Keith asked.

"Yes?" Marsha Booth glanced quickly at Alfie and Leonard. They were staring down at their sneakers. Even Watson had a guilty look. She looked back at the stranger.

"I'm Keith Raynor. I live in the old lighthouse on the beach."

The boys' mother hesitated. "Won't you come in?" she asked.

"Thank you," Keith replied. "But I'm afraid this isn't a social call. You see, I found your boys filming at the lighthouse—or planning to, that is. It isn't safe around there. There've been rock slides recently."

"Oh," Marsha Booth looked relieved. "Then all you have to do is to tell Alfie to keep away and he'll keep away."

Keith Raynor shook his head. "I tried that. It didn't work. I wouldn't want to suggest anything since we've just met, but maybe the boys need more supervision — if you know what I mean."

"Yes, I'm afraid I do," the boys' mother replied. "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Raynor. I'll make sure they won't bother you again."

"Thank you. Good-bye, Mrs. Booth." Keith got up and started for the door.

"Mr. Raynor!" Leonard hurried after him and tugged at Keith's sleeve. He lowered his voice. "We can still light the fireworks, can't we?"

Keith hesitated. He looked at Leonard's eager face. "Oh, I guess so… before you leave."

Leonard beamed. "Good-bye, Mr. Raynor. We'll see you Labor Day."

But when Leonard went back in the house, his smile faded. A very serious-looking parent faced her two sons.

"I know I depend on you boys a lot to take care of yourselves," she began, looking from Alfie to Leonard. "Maybe too much. But you know I can't be with you all day."

Alfie and Leonard for the second time that morning looked down at their sneakers. And Watson turned his back on everybody, as though the whole scene was too much for him.

"So," Mrs. Booth continued, "since you can't seem to take care of yourselves, I'll just have to find someone to help." She picked up the local newspaper and turned to the want ads.

Alfie made a long face.

"You needn't look that way," his mother said. "You brought this on yourself. Anyway, an older playmate will be good for you."

"Playmate! You mean baby-sitter!" Alfie said.

Marsha Booth grinned. "That's what I mean," she answered cheerfully.

She looked back at the newspaper. "Hmm! Here's a possibility — Jean Wyndham, sixteen, experienced dog-walker, piano teacher, surfboard sander, mother's helper, baby-sitter. Fifty cents an hour, 203 Main Street." She circled the ad.

"She sure can do a lot of things," Leonard said.

"But nothing we can use," Alfie added quickly, at the same time giving Leonard a nudge in the ribs.

"Why not?" Marsha Booth said. "A mother's helper is just what I'm looking for. Let's go, boys."

"Wyndham," Alfie muttered. "That's the sheriff's name. This Jean person probably belongs to his family. And she's probably a jailer-type."

"Maybe she's only a distant relative," Leonard said hopefully.

But hope faded when the Booths and Watson arrived at 203 Main Street. The man mowing the small front lawn was none other than the sheriff himself. Alfie looked alarmed. "Mom, are you sure you want to do this?"