Ghouls, Ghouls, Ghouls Part 30

I casually inspected the fingernails on my right hand. "It was a fairly easy deduction," I told him. "I mean, through a pretty thorough records check we figured out that your buddy Bertie was actually the one that brought the talisman back from South America and gave it to Bouvet twenty years ago. His story, which implicated that it was Jeffrey Kincaid who was responsible for the phantom, didn't really hold water after we'd finished looking at the evidence. Kincaid was a fairly convincing suspect for Bertie, though-I'll give him that-what with Jeffrey's mental collapse and living so far away in South Africa, and not here to defend himself. I'm pretty sure Jordan's father had no idea the talisman even existed, until his son decided to go looking into the affair. And then, when both father and son died, well, that just made Mulholland's story all that more believable.

"And then we managed a rather covert look into the hospital records and saw that Bertie Mulholland was admitted to the hospital the day after after Bouvet fell from the cliffs. The same day Bouvet fell from the cliffs. The same day you you claimed to have ventured here to have a look at the phantom, and I'm guessing you not only had a good look at the phantom, Quinn, but you also found Bertie lying helpless with a broken back somewhere here at Dunlow." claimed to have ventured here to have a look at the phantom, and I'm guessing you not only had a good look at the phantom, Quinn, but you also found Bertie lying helpless with a broken back somewhere here at Dunlow."

Constable O'Grady's face registered the guilt I'm sure he felt for his part in the lie all those years ago. "You see," I continued, feeling my way along the truth, "what I'm thinking is that Bertie really did find the gold twenty years ago, and to make sure he got Bouvet out of the way, he gave him a little present in the form of a small round disk with a gold stopper, which Gaston obviously uncorked, unleas.h.i.+ng the phantom.

"Then while the phantom was off chasing Bouvet right off the edge of the cliffs, and sending Kincaid insane, Mulholland came here and discovered the gold. While everyone else was preoccupied with recovering Bouvet's body and getting Kincaid to the hospital, Bertie managed to hide the talisman in Malachi's tomb so that the phantom could guard his gold. He thought he could come back here later with some rope, pulleys, winches, et cetera, to slide the lid aside to get at all the gold and take it before anyone was the wiser.

"The problem was, he couldn't get all of his equipment through the narrow tunnel under the causeway that led up here. He had to use the outside entrance, and the phantom proved to be far more dangerous than even he had estimated.

"I believe he made it as far as the castle before encountering the phantom. It probably chased him to the outside stairs, where he got tangled in his rope, tripped and fell, and ended up breaking his back. That's where you found him, Quinn-am I right? You found him badly hurt right on those stairs."

Quinn glared hard at me. "I only wanted to help the poor man," he said.

"Oh, I'm sure you did. But Bertie must have been in a terrible state, terrified really and in quite a bit of pain. I'm a.s.suming, to keep you quiet, he offered you some of the gold he'd already taken from in there." For emphasis I pointed to Malachi's tomb. "And that's how you had the money to buy your pub-am I right, Quinn? We looked up the towns.h.i.+p records. You opened your pub the day you turned eighteen. Where would an eighteen-year-old son of a bricklayer get forty thousand pounds to put down on a pub?"

The constable took a shaky breath and sat down on the stone slab. "Aye," he said grudgingly. "It's true."

"I'm also guessing that Bertie's tried to convince you all these years to come back to this church and take the rest of the gold, but you were too afraid of the phantom."

Quinn shuddered and then he eyed the secret pa.s.sage leading out of the church. I knew he was thinking of running for it, so I said quickly, "The one question I have for you, though, is, who was it that actually kidnapped Gopher? Was that you? Or did Mulholland manage that from his wheelchair?"

The constable's eyes darted back to me. "I had no part in that!"

"Ah," I said. "Then Mulholland somehow managed that on his own. Still, I'm guessing you were the one that stole the original blueprint from the library, right? And I can see why. It had to have shown the inside stairwell to the church, and Mulholland couldn't have anyone know about that. But why you didn't use it when he hired you to do his dirty work still puzzles me."

O'Grady's jaw bunched. "I tried," he said. "Right after that young man Kincaid fell to his death. I came here and tried to retrieve the talisman, but the phantom, it started to come inside the church. So I left it alone and told Mulholland I'd have none of it until the phantom was dealt with. He's the one who sent word to your producer friend. He told Peter about the treasure and the haunted castle, and he even told him about the phantom."

I now knew how Mulholland had lured Gopher to his home, which was where I was now convinced Gopher was being held captive. Still, I wanted to be sure. "Where is Peter, Quinn?"

O'Grady scowled and stared at the floor without answering me.

"How many children did you say you had?" I asked, reminding him of exactly how much he had to lose.

The constable's eyes came back to meet mine. "Seven. I've seven hungry mouths to feed, Miss Holliday."

"Then I think it's time for you to help me get Gopher back-don't you agree?"

Quinn stared at the tomb again. "I could take care of all of them with a bit of this gold."

"Yes, you could," I told him, smiling like I had a big secret. "Of course, once you pried that lid up-and trust me when I tell you that you'd need a forklift now that we've resealed it-you'd discover the tomb empty of all the gold."

Quinn stood and glared at me. "You've already taken it? All of it?"

"Yep," I said. "We had all night, after all. It was a lot of work, but we've managed to clear Dunlow of its infamous treasure."

O'Grady threw the crowbar and hammer onto the floor. "You'll never prove I had a hand in any of it," he said. "It's your word against mine."

My smile grew even bigger. "Say, Quinn?"

"Aye?"

"Could you turn a little to your left? I don't think our video camera is capturing your good side." For emphasis I pointed to the cornice where we'd attached the camera. "The feed is traveling right across the Internet as we speak. I figure you'll be a YouTube sensation in about three hours."

O'Grady's shoulders slumped and he sat back down on the tomb, covering his face with his hands. "What's going to happen to me children?" he wailed.

In that moment I took pity on him, and truth be told, I knew I needed his help to get Gopher back. "I don't know that anyone really has to know about your part in this," I said. "I'd be willing to have the feed erased, especially if you decide to help us."

The constable's head lifted and he looked hopefully at me. "What do you want me to do?"

"Help me get Peter Gophner back."

Quinn looked again at the camera with its little red recording light glowing in the dim church, and I knew he was considering all he had to lose. "All right," he agreed wearily. "I'll do what you ask. But I want to warn you, miss: Bertie Mulholland is a dangerous and deceptive man. He might be in a wheelchair, but it wouldn't be wise to underestimate him."

"Noted," I said. "Now, let's work on a plan. ..."

Gilley and I approached Mulholland's large house warily. We'd already spent a little time scouting the perimeter and making sure that the camera I carried in my messenger bag was sending a good signal to Quinn and Heath in the van.

I was taking a big chance with the constable, but I hoped that the footage I already had of his confession at the castle was enough to get him to cooperate fully. I'd made sure to let him know that if I even sensed a double cross from him, I'd make sure it ended up on YouTube and in the e-mail of every member of the town council and he'd be taken from his wife and children.

"Are you sure this'll work?" Gil asked me for the hundredth time as we walked up the drive.

"Just let me do all the talking," I told him.

Gilley's stomach rumbled. "You got any food on you?"

I gave him an exasperated look and walked up the ramp to Mulholland's front door. Ringing the bell, I stepped back and waited.

No one came to the door and Gilley whispered, "I don't think he's home."

I eyed the van at the end of the drive. "Oh, he's home all right."

Ringing the doorbell again, I stepped back and leaned against the side of the house, looking like I wasn't about to go anywhere. A moment or two later I heard, "A moment!" from inside.

The door was opened and Bertie sat in his chair looking rather flushed. "Good morning to you, Miss Holliday!"

"h.e.l.lo, Bertie," I said, smiling all friendly-like. Turning to Gilley, I said, "This is my a.s.sociate Gilley Gillespie."

Bertie extended his hand. "Lovely to meet you."

Gilley shook his hand and smiled cordially. "And you, sir."

Bertie then turned his attention back to me. "I hope you're here with good news?"

"Oh, we are," I gushed.

For a moment, Bertie appeared a little taken aback. "You've found your friend, then?"

I laughed like he'd just said the funniest thing. "Oh, no," I said. Turning to Gilley, I added, "Isn't that funny? It's been such an exciting twenty-four hours that I totally forgot about Gopher!"

"Gopher who?" Gilley mocked with a chuckle. And the two of us laughed and laughed.

I took note of the fact that Bertie appeared confused and perhaps even a little irritated. Collecting himself, he backed his chair up and said, "Won't you please come in, then, and share your good news?"

Gilley and I waltzed into Bertie's home and followed him down the ramp to the sitting room. Taking a seat, I made sure to gaze appreciatively at all the artwork and knickknacks again. "I swear, this house gets lovelier every time I see it!" I said.

Bertie placed his chair opposite us at the coffee table, his smile a bit strained and his eyes impatient. "Thank you," he said. "Now, you were saying something about good news?"

"Oh!" I giggled. "Yes, that!"

Gilley laughed wickedly next to me, and Bertie's confusion deepened.

I decided to get to the point. "We're leaving this morning," I told him.

"Leaving?" he gasped, then caught himself. "So soon?"

I nodded and beamed him a happy smile. Gilley snickered and held his hand up to his mouth as if he were struggling to hold back a fit of laughter. "We've come across a bit of good fortune," I said. "And we really must be on our way."

Bertie blinked in surprise. "Good fortune?"

I nodded again, and added a wink as if he were in on the joke.

Understanding seemed to blossom in his eyes ... along with something far more cunning. "But what about your friend? The producer you were looking for?"

I flicked my wrist impatiently. "Oh, phhhht phhhht!" I said. "Screw him. Gopher was always a pain in the a.s.s, and if he wants to wander off and not call, well, then he deserves to get cut out-I mean left behind."

Gilley giggled.

Bertie fidgeted nervously. "I see," he said. "But I thought you were terribly worried about him."

I sighed. "Yeah, well, it's funny how good fortune can take your worries away. Right, Gil?"

Gilley laughed and nudged me. "Good one," he said.

Bertie's eyes darted back and forth between us. "Where will you go?" he asked.

I looked at Gil as if that was the first time I'd considered the question. "Someplace tropical?"

"Definitely. I could totally use a vacation. Especially after all that heavy lifting last night. Man, I could go for a ma.s.sage!"

"Heavy lifting?" Bertie asked anxiously.

I ignored his question and stood up. "Yes, well, we really do have to go," I said. "We just wanted to stop by and thank you for all your help."

"My help?"

"Yes," I said with another happy smile. "We couldn't have done it without you, Bertie."

"Done what exactly?"

"Accomplished our mission," I said, motioning to Gilley that it was time to leave.

As we began to move to the door, I stopped abruptly and said, "Oh! I almost forgot!" Whirling back around to face Bertie, I said, "We're so appreciative of your help that we got you something."

Gilley nodded enthusiastically. "A present."

"Yes, a present, and it's well deserved." I then reached into the side pocket of the messenger bag and slid the talisman out carefully. Making sure to hold it in range of the camera, I said, "Here, Bertie. This is for you."

Mulholland wheeled backward from us. "Get that away from me!" he snapped.

I continued to hold the disk out to him. "Oh," I said innocently. "You recognize this?"

Bertie realized his mistake and tried to catch himself. "No," he said. "Of course not."

I looked at Gilley as if I were truly puzzled. "Huh," I said. "You know, that's so so interesting, because I would have thought for sure you'd remember it." interesting, because I would have thought for sure you'd remember it."

"Maybe he thinks we're being rude by regifting it to him."

I nodded. "Yeah, that must be it. I mean, how often do you give someone a gift, and then twenty years later it's given back to you by someone completely different?"

"I've no idea what you're going on about!" Mulholland snapped, still eyeing the talisman warily.

I sat down on a chair, cradling the talisman in my lap. "Oh, Bertie, I'm afraid you do." When he remained silent, I explained, "You see, you already told us everything we needed to know to point the finger at you. You were the one that told us you'd ventured to Spain to research the s.h.i.+p from the Spanish Armada that crashed on these sh.o.r.es. And in that research, Bertie, I think you came across a story about a group of Spanish conquistadors who were driven out of Peru by a mysterious phantom who could be drawn from an Incan stone if its stopper of gold was removed.

"And then I believe you traveled to Peru in search of this talisman, and I believe you found it."

"Loved your book on Machu Picchu," Gilley said with a sly smile. "Didn't sell many copies, though, did it?"

Bertie glared hard at Gilley.

But I picked up on the thread. "No, it didn't sell many copies. In fact, there's not nearly as much money in travel books as you'd have people believe, right, Bertie?"

Again he remained silent, which wasn't helping our cause, so I continued to goad him.

"Wonder how you got the money to pay for this gorgeous house?" I said."And all these expensive artifacts ..."

"Things like that don't come cheap," Gilley remarked. "Especially not that antiquey-looking telescope."

I made a show of eyeing the telescope. "Oh, that is too cool! I'll bet it still works, too, huh, Bertie?"

"I'll bet he can see all the way down to the beach with that thing," Gilley added.

"And to the secret pa.s.sage just to the right of the causeway," I agreed.

"Which is how he knew that we'd found the church exit," Gil said.