Jane Carter Historical Cozies: Omnibus Edition (Six Mystery Novels)

by Alice Simpson

  We could see a bit of light now, and we crept down the tunnel until we reached an arching doorway opening into a dimly lit room. I shrank back against the wall, just far enough into the darkness to remain hidden, but just close enough to see the prisoner.

  Jack had glued himself to my side, and when I reached out to hold his hand, he didn’t pull away. Normally, I’m not a handholding sort of woman, but lurking in a possibly-murderous lunatic’s lair seemed an appropriate occasion for it.

  Leo Silva, his face twisted in pain, stood tied to a wooden post. At the other end of the chamber, likewise bound upright, was another prisoner— Clara Jenson.

  Clara starting coughing uncontrollably.

  “You do not like the damp air, my dear?” Leonard Henderson laughed. “No? Perhaps next time you will not try to defy Leonard Henderson! Unfortunately, for you, my sweet, there will be no next time!”

  He offered Clara a drink from the jug, but scarcely had she taken a sip when he jerked it from her lips.

  “You fiend!” Leo Silva said.

  “Soon you both will have all the water you wish!” Leonard Henderson laughed again. “Yes, all you wish!”

  “Go away and let us die in peace,” Silva said.

  “I shall go away, for my work is not yet finished. Before midnight, you will have company, my dear master. Are you lonely for that beautiful sister of yours?”

  “You heartless monster! Take your vengeance out upon me but leave Helene alone!”

  “I’m going in,” Jack whispered.

  “Wait!” I hissed, but Jack was already moving forward.

  Jack never laid a finger on Leonard Henderson. Henderson must have sensed movement out of the corner of his eye because he whirled around with the water-jug raised high and struck Jack over the head with it. Jack crumpled to the damp stone floor and lay there motionless.

  I reached into the pocket of my skirt for the cosh, but it wasn’t there. Somewhere, along the dark passageway, it had fallen from my pocket, and now when I most needed a weapon, I had none.

  I was fighting mad, but not so sufficiently blinded by fury as to contemplate taking on Leonard Henderson with my bare hands. I fled back up the passageway. If help had not yet arrived, I would find something in the doll shop to serve as a weapon. Looking for my lost cosh without the aid of a flashlight was hopeless.

  I could see nothing, and repeatedly knocked against the cold walls as I half-ran, half-stumbled. I prayed the police would come soon so that Jack and the two prisoners might be spared further injury.

  I had covered barely half the distance to the ladder, when, without warning, I collided with someone coming from the opposite direction. For an instant, I thought that it was Florence, then I felt long, bony fingers wrap around my throat.

  My assailant was a woman, and no match me. I had pinned her to the cold stone floor when footsteps pounded down the passageway. I could see the bobbing beam of an approaching flashlight bouncing off the stone walls.

  “Henderson!” the woman yelled. “Help! Help!”

  A powerful hand grasped my shoulder and pulled me backward. I let go of the woman and righted myself just enough to give the man a good hard kick in the shins, but he just grunted and grabbed me tighter. I tried biting him, but he appeared impervious to pain.

  “Good work, Pauline,” the man said and then I was certain it was Leonard Henderson who had me shoved up against the cold stone wall. “We capture another bird for our cage!”

  Pauline had the electric torch now, and she went ahead of us and flashed it in my face as Leonard Henderson carried me down the passageway. I continued to struggle, but nothing I did could induce him to let me go.

  We’d reached the room containing the other prisoners. Henderson directed Pauline to tie my hands and feet together. I continued to struggle, but I was almost out of strength.

  Leo Silva watched in silence, and Clara turned her head away and cried. I felt pity for Clara, she must be blaming herself. Neither prisoner said a word.

  “I came to tell you I am quitting, Henderson,” said Pauline, when I was securely tied to another upright wooden beam and had ceased to struggle. “This is dangerous business, and I don’t like it. We may have once been man and wife, but I never supposed you would go to such lengths. Already, Miss Barnett is suspicious.”

  “I’ll have her in my net, too, before nightfall,” Henderson boasted. “If you won’t do it for love, surely you will do it for money.”

  “What do you intend to do with your prisoners?”

  Leonard Henderson just chuckled.

  “I wish I had never become mixed up in this,” Pauline went on. “You’re going too far, Leonard—”

  “When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,” Henderson snarled. “For years I have waited for this moment. Now that it is here, no one shall cheat me! Do you understand? No one!”

  Leonard Henderson was the hysterical one now. His voice had reached the level of a scream.

  “Hush!” Pauline warned. “Someone will hear you!”

  Leonard Henderson looked like he wanted to slap Pauline, but instead, he slapped Silva. Slapping Silva cheered him up so much that he decided to give Clara and me the same treatment.

  “I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” I said, perhaps unwisely. “It won’t be for long.”

  Striking us seemed to have calmed Henderson’s nerves, because he spoke at a normal level when he said, “You are quite right. It won’t be for long. Pauline and I must take ourselves to a safer place. The river is rising faster than I planned.”

  He laughed another ugly laugh as he retreated, with Pauline close on his heels. We watched in silence until the light from the electric torch disappeared around a bend in the tunnel, and we were left in total darkness.

  “Don’t despair,” I struggled to keep my voice calm. “We’ll soon be free. Florence has gone for help.

  “Help will come too late,” Clara said. “Listen!”

  I had not noticed it before, but when it was silent again, I could hear the gurgling of water. I remembered Leonard Henderson’s final words.

  “Clara, what did that fiend mean about the river?”

  “Didn’t you know, Jane? This tunnel empties down by the river.”

  “And at flood stage, this chamber is submerged?” I asked.

  “Yes, already the water is seeping in,” said Silva. “Leonard Henderson has left us to drown.”

  CHAPTER 25

  I know Mrs. Timms doesn’t think it womanly to carry a pocket knife, but I’m not one to let a dissenting opinion sway my habits. Unfortunately, I keep the thing in my handbag, and my handbag was tucked under the display counter upstairs.

  “Do either of you have a knife,” I asked.

  “If I did, do you think we’d still be tied up like this?” Silva sounded bitter. “I did have a pocket knife on me when I was dragged down here, but as you will recall, I was already bound at the time. Henderson checked my pockets and took it.”

  I could feel a bit of water pooling at my feet, it wasn’t swishing about my ankles, yet, but the river was definitely rising.

  “What about you, Clara?” I asked.

  “What kind of lady carries a pocket knife?”

  I decided not to inform Clara that I was the kind of lady who carried one. I could have explained why a pocket knife was so much more essential than lipstick, but it didn’t seem the time to go into the unreasonable rules of femininity.

  Jack moaned from time-to-time, so I knew he was still alive.

  I was worried. The river could rise another five feet before any of us bound upright were in serious danger, but Jack lay on the floor, probably drifting in and out of consciousness. For Jack, even a few inches of water seeping into our stone prison could be fatal.

  I attempted to free myself by wiggling about, but it only made the cords cut more deeply into my flesh. I wondered why Florence hadn’t returned with help. Then, as I wriggled futilely once more, I cried out in pain. Something, probably the he
ad of an old nail, had gouged my flesh. I wondered if I was bleeding.

  “Are you alright?” Clara asked from the darkness.

  “Just a splinter poking me,” I said.

  It wasn’t a splinter. It was metal. If it had cut me, it could also cut a rope. I decided not to say anything about it to the others. Instead, as I positioned the rope around my wrists against the bit of sharp sticking out of the wood, I made conversation. I decided that, even if I was going to drown to death, I’d at least like to have my curiosity assuaged before I shuffled off to the after-life.

  “I don’t suppose it matters a great deal now, Clara, but how did you come to be mixed up in all this mess?”

  I was rubbing the ropes tying my wrists up and down against the sharp object on the wooden column, but I couldn’t tell if it was doing much good. My movement was so restricted that even if the rope was raveling, it might take ages to get through all the strands.

  “All my troubles have been due to that horrible creature,” Clara answered. “I believed her to be Mrs. Fitz. She asked me to make a witch doll. I thought it was only for a joke and did as she asked.”

  “You didn’t write the threatening note?”

  “No, Mrs. Fitz—I mean that man Henderson—wrote it.”

  “Weren’t you suspicious, Clara?”

  “Not right at first. Later, when I began to guess that something was wrong, I was terribly afraid. I thought I might be arrested. Oh, Jane, if only I had taken your advice and refused to sell my shop to Mrs. Fitz.”

  “It was a natural mistake to make. Then what happened?”

  “I didn’t suspect the truth until Mrs. Fitz took over the shop. After that, she wasn’t so careful. She set me to making witch dolls.”

  “The idea being to frighten Miss Barnett out of her wits by replacing the original doll whenever she disposed of it?”

  “I’m not sure. I think that was the scheme.”

  “When did you learn the truth about Mrs. Fitz’s identity?”

  “The very first day. Quite by accident, I saw her remove her gray wig. Then she pushed back the kitchen range and went down into this hole in the ground.”

  “You never suspected the tunnel was here, Clara?”

  “No, but I should have had an inkling. My shop building is a very old one. I’ve been told it was built in Civil War times by a man who bitterly opposed slavery.”

  “He may have been an underground railroader!” Silva added from the darkness.

  “I figure it that way. The tunnel leading to the river probably was built as an escape for slaves smuggled from the South.”

  “Leonard Henderson learned about it and decided to make use of it for his own cruel purposes.”

  “Yes, he was determined to get control of the shop at any cost. I am sure he was the one who smashed my dolls so that I would be in a mood to sell.”

  “There’s one thing I can’t understand, Clara,” I said. “Why did you go away with Henderson when he came to our house? Had you any idea he was an escaped convict?”

  “No, I only knew he had been masquerading as Mrs. Fitz. The man said he wished to talk with me, and that if I did not come he would make trouble for you.”

  “I thought it might be something like that.”

  “It was a mistake for me to leave your home,” Clara went on. “Henderson immediately made a prisoner of me, bringing me to this dreadful tunnel.”

  Leo Silva had listened mostly in silence, but now he spoke. “The man has a twisted mind. He fancies that Helene and I were responsible for sending him to prison. I know now that he robbed her of the diamond necklace that evening at my establishment.”

  “Did you never suspect Henderson had assumed a hunchback disguise?” I asked.

  “He fooled me completely. I had seen Henderson only a handful of times before, and that was years ago. He managed to so greatly alter his appearance. He used make-up and a fake hump on his back.”

  “How did you come to employ him?”

  “Well, my old assistant quit, and I needed someone. This fellow offered to work for half price. He was an ugly creature, but I thought his appearance might add to the general weird atmosphere which I tried to achieve.”

  “And you were never suspicious of him?”

  “No, Spider did his work well. He was with me several months, and I learned to take him for granted.”

  “Yet, all the while he was biding his time, waiting for a chance to strike!”

  “Yes, he had worked out a scheme of revenge, and he carried it through to the last detail. First, he warned me —do you remember that voice?”

  “I’ll never forget it.”

  “I should have been suspicious then, but Spider had altered his voice. He’s quite an actor. He must have been preparing to accomplish this scheme for some time.”

  “How did he produce the effect of the voice of doom?” I asked.

  “Oh, he knew all the secrets of my trade. He must have entered the cabinet and spoken from there. But since I trusted Spider, I believed him when he swore he could not explain the mysterious voice.”

  “I wonder why he gave you any warning at all?”

  “The fellow enjoyed my mental suffering. He tried to play upon my feelings, building up to the big denouement.”

  “He tried the same trick upon your sister,” I said. “By making the witch doll reappear whenever she disposed of it, he led her to believe in the supernatural. Henderson must have been the person who created the disturbance in the theater. And he frightened Miss Barnett half out of her wits by imprinting a witch doll picture on the back wall of the building.”

  “I can’t see how he made the doll reappear after my sister had thrown it away,” Silva said.

  “Oh, that was quite easy. Your sister’s maid, Pauline, would substitute another doll whenever the original vanished. I’m sure she was the one who gave Henderson information about the necklace, too. Based on what she said here today, they must have once been man and wife. Perhaps, she and Henderson were married at the time he was sent to prison, and her bitterness over the incident motivated her to cooperate with his nefarious scheme.”

  “Oh, the man worked out his plan very cleverly,” Silva said bitterly. “I fell into his trap like an innocent babe.”

  “How were you brought here?” I asked.

  “I was bound that night at the séance parlor. Henderson left the room dressed as Spider, but returned without his disguise, reentering the room from the secret entrance in the back of the cabinet. Then, protected by darkness, he dragged me through the secret entrance. He swung me over his shoulder, and in a specially constructed sack, carried me down the fire escape to an automobile waiting in the alley. I couldn’t shout because he had clapped a gag into my mouth.”

  “And the worst is that he has escaped,” Clara moaned. “We’ll drown, and no one will ever learn the truth.”

  “The river may not come very high,” I said. I was feeling more cheerful. I could detect a slight loosening on the rope as if at least one of the strands had given way. “Anyway, it will take hours. Before that someone surely will come.”

  “But what about your young fellow?” Silva said.

  Jack moaned again, as if on cue.

  “I think he’ll recover,” I said. “Henderson only hit him once.”

  “Not if he drowns first,” said Silva.

  “We might try calling for help,” I said.

  “We’ve already tried,” Clara answered. “Voices can’t be heard in the doll shop.”

  “If I ever get out of this mess, I swear I’ll give up my place on Clark street and go into a different line of work,” Silva muttered. “But there’s no chance of us escaping.”

  Even as he spoke, the rope around my wrists gave way.

  “I’ve got my hands loose! I’ll—”

  “How did you—” Silva interrupted.

  “Never mind,” I said. “Give me two minutes more, and I’ll be free.”

  It took more like five. The knots
were very tight, and my hands were cold and weak. It took perhaps ten minutes more to get Clara loose. I told her to immediately prop up the semi-conscious Jack, as the water was now trickling in and pooling on the stone floor.

  Silva’s bonds were the hardest of all. It was doubly hard because I could not see. I dared not ask Clara to help me, as she was busy holding Jack’s head out of the water.

  Just as Silva and I had gotten the last rope disentangled from his feet, we heard the indistinct murmur of voices down the passageway.

  “That can’t be Pauline or Leonard Henderson!” I said. “Scream for help!”

  Leo Silva was too exhausted to offer more than a hoarse croak, but Clara and I made the tunnel echo with our shouts.

  “Hello!” called a voice from a long distance away.

  In another minute we saw a light, and several shadowy figures came running down the passageway. It was my father, Florence, and five blue-coated policemen.

  “Here we are, Dad!” I shouted.

  “Are you all right?” Dad rushed over to me.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “But Jack’s not exactly in pristine condition.”

  I hadn’t even had time to get over to Jack and assess the damage.

  “Don’t worry about me, Dad. Just get the others out of here. Jack needs to go to the hospital, and Mr. Silva is in bad shape.”

  I needn’t have worried about ladies first. Two policemen had already created a chair with their arms and loaded Jack onto it, and another two were supporting Silva. The remaining policeman was asking Clara if she was capable of walking out under her own power.

  “What about Leonard Henderson?” I asked Dad.

  “He’s already on his way to the lock-up.”

  “Henderson was captured that quickly?”

  “Yes, along with Miss Barnett’s maid, Pauline. She’s not a strong woman, but she sure can scratch and bite! I know because I held her until the police snapped cuffs on her wrists.”

  “I should know,” I said. “I had a tangle with her, too. I dread to see the look on Mrs. Timms’ face when she sees what a disreputable state I’m in. I expect I look like I’ve been in a saloon fight, and I’m certain these shoes must be ruined.”