Case of the Highland House Haunting

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “That’s a good point, Zachary. Well, where would you like to go from here? I don’t think we will find anything useful in here. I’m sorry for dragging you out here.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go back to Highland House. There’s still furniture in there. One of the guys found another hidden room. I’ll bet you the answer is there. We just have to find it.”

  I have gone on record numerous times, stating that I am oftentimes wrong, frequently really wrong, and on a few times, horribly wrong. It certainly felt like the last one to me. Jillian and I searched that house from top to bottom. No, we didn’t discover any more hidden rooms. The dogs seemed to perk up whenever we went upstairs, but I think it was because they loved to jump up on the huge king bed in the master bedroom and watch the door. Personally, I think it was because the bed was lower to the ground.

  Anyway, whenever Jillian and I would head off to explore another room in the house, if the dogs ever wandered off, we’d always find them in the master bedroom. Now, I know what you’re thinking. There must be something Sherlock and Watson want us to find in there. And, it’s a possibility the two of us discussed several times. However, no amount of searching in there could uncover anything we didn’t already know. I simply could not figure out why they were so fascinated with this one room. More specifically, the big bas-relief thingamajig on the southern wall. I must have stared at that blasted thing for hours, and had nothing to show for it.

  I found Jillian sitting on the bed several hours later, with the dogs, as I returned after searching the ‘second basement’. It was creepy as hell down there and I wasn’t about to subject Jillian to that again if she didn’t have to. I sat down heavily on the bed and eyed my girlfriend. Well, I eyed all three of them. And, for the record, all three were now staring directly at me.

  “Find anything?” Jillian wearily asked.

  “Not a damn thing, I’m afraid.”

  “I’d say it’s about time we call it quits here. I know it’s early, but I was thinking about doing a little research in the library. Would you care to join me?”

  “I would be delighted. If I don’t have to go up and down several flights of steps, then I’m your guy.”

  “No steps,” Jillian confirmed. “What about you two? Care to go with us?”

  Both dogs jumped down to the ground, but not before Sherlock turned to look back at the bed. Curious, I glanced at Jillian before looking back at Sherlock. What was the deal with the bed? Was there something under it?

  I passed the leashes to Jillian.

  “Keep an eye on these two, would you? I want to see what’s under this thing.”

  Jillian led the dogs to the other side of the room and waited while I tipped the mattress over on its side so I could see underneath it. Nothing. I then pulled the box spring out of the sleigh bed frame and also inspected the undersides. Again, nothing. Grumbling, I was in the process of lowering the mattress back onto into position when I hesitated.

  Something was on the ground, about to be covered up by the mattress. It was small, dark, and almost blended in with the dark gray carpeting in the room. Grunting with surprise, I tipped the box spring back up on its side and rested it against the wall. Stretching over the frame, I reached down to retrieve that which had caught my eye.

  “What is it?” Jillian wanted to know.

  I turned and held out my hand.

  “It’s a cube.”

  “A cube? A cube of what?”

  I brought my hand close to my face and studied the one inch by one inch dark gray object. The surface was dotted with tiny holes, and on one of the sides there was a teeny tiny button. Curious, I pressed it. I waited for a few moments and then grunted. Nothing happened. I walked over to Jillian and let her take the cube from my hand.

  “This looks like a speaker,” Jillian decided.

  I stared at the tiny cube.

  “That? You think that’s a speaker?”

  Jillian nodded, “I do. We can test this. Would you hold the leashes, please?”

  Once control of the dogs had been returned to me, Jillian reached into her purse for her cell. She tapped the screen a few times before looking expectantly at the tiny device. She frowned, and then shrugged.

  “I thought for sure this was a speaker. If it was, then more than likely it would have had a Bluetooth chip in it. If that was true, then my phone should be able to pick it up. However, it didn’t find anything.”

  I remembered pressing the pinhole-sized button. I held a hand out. After Jillian passed the cube back, I pointed at her phone.

  “Hang on a second. I want you to try again, but let me press this first.”

  Once I gave Jillian the signal, she tried again to search for any nearby Bluetooth devices. This time, her phone chirped and displayed a new entry: Micron Bluetooth Speaker. Jillian tapped the newly discovered device and was rewarded with a soft chime. Then, bringing up her list of songs on her phone, she hit ‘Play’.

  The sounds of Uptown Funk filled the room with surprising clarity. A look of anger passed over my girlfriend’s features. She pointed at the cube.

  “Curtis has been using this to play eerie sounds, hasn’t he? It’s so small that I bet it was taped under that mattress.”

  I turned back to the mattress and examined the surface. Sure enough, there was a strip of beige two-sided tape near the end of the bed. Being light brown to begin with, the tape blended in almost perfectly with the rest of the mattress, so even if you were looking for it, you’d be hard-pressed to spot it.

  “You’re right. There’s some adhesive residue right here. Good job, Sherlock! Okay. You, too, Watson. I’m sorry. I don’t have any Scooby snacks for you. We’d need Vance for that.”

  “Scooby snacks?” Jillian repeated, with a giggle.

  “He always has doggie biscuits with him,” I reminded her. “What else would you call them?”

  “I wonder how many more of these there are around here,” Jillian softly wondered. “If the cubes are turned on, which I presume they are, then our phones should be able to spot them. Should we look for them?”

  Shaking my head, I was about ready to throw the device away when I thought better of it and dropped it back on the ground. Confused, Jillian stared at the small speaker.

  “What did you do that for? Shouldn’t we get rid of it?”

  “Then he’ll know we found it,” I pointed out.

  “He already knows we know he’s here,” Jillian argued. “I think that speaker is a moot point right about now.”

  “Still, I’d rather not disturb them. We’ve already touched this one, but if you’re right, there are others in the house. I say we let Vance and his guys find them. That way, they can check for prints. Besides, I think our pal Curtis is going to come back. We just have to figure out how to catch him.”

  Jillian wandered over to the closest window and looked outside.

  “For all we know, he’s already out there, somewhere, watching us right now. He’s probably just waiting for us to leave.”

  I pointed at the marked squad car parked just outside the front door.

  “Not with the police just outside. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I think he’s trying to figure out how to get back inside, but as long as Vance has our backs, I think we’re okay.”

  Jillian took my hand, “Come on. We still have an hour before the library closes. I’d like to see if there’s anything on file about that necklace I found. It would be wonderful if we could find some type of proof that it belonged to Hilda.”

  “I think we both know it belonged to Hilda,” I argued. “However, you’re right. Let’s find proof. Out of curiosity, if we do, what do you plan on doing with it? Are you going to sell it?”

  “Probably not,” Jillian decided. “I might loan it to our museum here in town. I’ll see if they’re interested in setting up an exhibit about this house and Dame Hilda. As we’ve already learned, this house has quite a history.”

  “Sherlock? Watson? Come on. We’re going f
or a ride.”

  “Should we take them home?” Jillian asked.

  “No, they should be fine. It’s been a perfect day outside, weather-wise. They’ll be fine in the Jeep. Besides, I keep a bag of treats in there. They should be okay for a little while.”

  Half an hour later, we were sitting at one of the terminals inside the PV library. Jillian, being much more adept on the library’s computer system than I was, sitting in the chair and typing away. Every so often, she’d pull the catalog number to some book she’d want me to find. I’d find it, and then, together, we’d go through it, looking for any mention of the Highland name.

  Jillian had been right. This library had a lot of information about one of its most colorful citizens. And, much to my delight, that included photos. Every single one of them, thank the lucky stars, was digital. When you think about it, it’s actually very smart. That way, the library doesn’t have to waste precious storage space in order to keep a physical copy there inside the building. Oh, I’m sure they still had the originals, but I was also pretty certain that they were tucked safely away in some storage facility.

  Going through the photos, we saw pictures of Dame Highland in her early teenage years, next to whom I’m guessing was her father. Then we saw photo after photo of her in her car, the sporty-looking roadster we had seen in the album back in Highland House. Seriously, there had to be several dozen photographs of Dame Highland and that car, in various locales. There she was, driving up the coast on what I presumed was Highway 101. There she was, driving her car through Sequoia National Park.

  “I wonder what type of car that is and where it is now,” I mused aloud.

  “I’m sure it’s long gone,” Jillian answered, as she scrolled through more photos. “Out of curiosity, why do you ask? Do you like it?”

  I nodded, “I do. It reminds me of those old gangster movies. I always imagined Bugsy Malone owning a car like this. I wonder…”

  I trailed off as a thought occurred. What if Dame Highland had hid her jewels in her car? What do you suppose were the chances of tracking that car down after all these years?

  “You wonder what?” Jillian asked, after she noticed I had trailed off.

  “Could she have hidden anything in her car?”

  Jillian shrugged, “Possibly. However, I don’t think we’ll ever know. That car is long gone by now. Think about it. Hilda was murdered in 1947. That’s over 70 years ago. Even if the car survived, it’d be nothing more than a rusted hulk by now.”

  “What a depressing thought,” I muttered. “Hey, that picture shows promise. She’s wearing some jewelry in it, at least.”

  Jillian nodded, “I found some files on another server. This one has a different batch of photos. Based on the upload date, they haven’t been here that long.”

  “Just under two months, actually,” a new voice said.

  We both turned to see a young kid, probably in his late teens to early twenties, standing just behind us. Annoyed that this person was able to sneak up on us, I glanced at Jillian, but she was already smiling at the kid.

  “And who are you?” I politely asked.

  “Jason Merrick. I work here.”

  “Ah. Well, hello Jason. My name is…”

  “You’re Zack Anderson,” Jason interrupted. “I know who you are, of course.”

  I narrowed my eyes, “Dare I ask how you know me? No offense, pal, but you don’t look old enough to drink.”

  “I’m 19,” Jason confirmed. “And no, I don’t drink. Let’s just say I’m an ardent admirer of your dogs. And, don’t ask me how I know, but they’re presently in your car. Is there any way I can go out and meet them?”

  “You know the dogs are in my car?” I repeated, amazed. And, truthfully, a little creeped out. “And how would you know that? I’m not sure I like where this is going, kid.”

  “No! Oh, no! That’s not what I meant at all. I’ve wanted to meet them for some time now, and now that you’re here, I know they’re close. Your dogs are adorable. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

  “Focus, Jason,” I told the kid. “You said that the pictures we’re looking at were recently uploaded? Tell me how you know that and I’ll personally take you out to my Jeep and make the introductions. Once we’re done in here, that is.”

  “Because I’m the one who scanned them all in,” Jason promptly told us. “What a job that was. Do you have any idea how long I spent scanning in those four boxes of pictures? All of them cropped and scanned at 300 DPI.”

  “DPI?” Jillian repeated.

  “Dots Per Inch,” Jason translated. “Just believe me when I say that I spent nearly a year on it.”

  “To scan in some pictures?” I asked, amazed.

  “Well, it wasn’t just those,” Jason clarified. “I was tasked with clearing out our back room. We’ve been given lots of donations over the years. Then, me and my big mouth happened. I suggested we could clear up room if we digitize documents and photos. Guess who they asked to do it?”

  “Where are these pictures now?” Jillian asked.

  “In storage, at our Medford location. Thanks to our new computer system, everything is going digital these days. So, I heard my boss say they’re planning on trying to contact the families the donations belonged to, but if they don’t want them back, they’re going to be destroyed.”

  I nodded. It made sense. My guess is that whoever donated that junk is not going to want it back. I mean, who’d want boxes of old photographs and papers when they existed digitally?

  “I’ll take anything that belonged to Dame Hilda Highland,” Jillian suddenly said.

  “What was that?” I asked, certain I had heard wrong. I know my girlfriend. She was all about clearing out seldom used clutter.

  “Zachary, look at this!”

  I leaned over Jillian’s shoulder and stared at the computer screen. There, on the display, was a series of pictures. It was Dame Highland, and it looked as though she was modeling her jewelry!

  “Okay, she’s wearing her jewelry in these pictures,” I said, as I studied the thumbnails. “However, these aren’t going to do us any good unless we find any of her other pieces.”

  “I’m talking about this picture. Look, Zachary! What does that look like to you?”

  Jillian clicked on one of the thumbnails. A tiny picture suddenly expanded to fill the entire screen. It was a picture of Dame Highland, only it had to be a more recent photograph of her. All the other pictures I’ve seen had her in her teens and twenties. This one placed her in her late forties. But, all that aside, what drew my attention was what she was wearing. It was the necklace Jillian had found tucked away in that bookcase!

  “This is it! This is proof! We have our provenance!”

  Behind us, unbeknownst to either of us, one of the patrons calmly closed the book he had been pretending to read and pushed away from the small desk. He quickly gathered his things and all but sprinted for the exit.

  TEN

  “You don’t have to like it, Zack. What I’m saying is, the discovery of that necklace cements the fact our friend Mr. Stiller is going to be back. Soon. All I want to do is up the time table. Let’s move on him before he can move on us. I think we can set a foolproof trap.”

  “How?” I demanded. “And using what? It’s not going to be that necklace. It’s safe and secure.”

  “He’ll have a wide variety of choices to choose from,” Vance assured me.

  “Did you find Dame Highland’s hidden treasure trove?” I suspiciously asked. “Otherwise, I don’t know where you plan on getting any more jewels, unless you’re planning on robbing a jewelry store.”

  “They’re on their way over now, in the guise of a couple of pizzas,” Vance informed me.

  “You didn’t, did you?” I incredulously asked.

  “What, rob a jewelry store? Come on, Zack. Be serious. And be on the lookout for those pizzas.”

  At the thought of a hot slice of pizza, my stomach rumbled. Loudly. “Sorry. That was me.”
<
br />   Jillian went sympathetic, “You poor dear. Are you hungry? We’ve been running around all day. I hadn’t thought about getting anything to eat.”

  “I am hungry, but I have too many other things on my mind right now. Sitting comfortably at the top of that list is getting rid of our ‘ghost’. I want him out of Highland House once and for all.”

  “You and me both,” Jillian agreed.

  I looked around the living room of Jillian’s latest investment. She and I were sitting on the same couch we had found the clump of dirt under earlier. Vance was sitting in an armchair, only he hadn’t bothered to pull the protective covering off.

  “I have to tell you, buddy,” I said, as I turned to my detective friend, “I’m a little nervous about setting a trap in here. Yes, we probably know we haven’t seen the last of this Curtis fellow. Yes, he wants the jewelry. However, can’t we lure him somewhere else?”

  “Don’t be a big baby,” Vance teased. “Compared to what you and I have done in the past, this will be a piece of cake.”

  “I’m not comfortable with you sending a whole lot of jewelry here,” I admitted. “Especially not in a pizza box. I mean, come on! What happens if the driver opens it up and looks in?”

  “Please, Zack,” Vance scoffed. “First off, the driver will be a cop. And second, not one of the pieces will be real. They’re all fakes, buddy. Every single one of them.”

  “How are fakes supposed to lure Curtis Stiller here?” I argued. “He’ll take one look at them and know they won’t be worth diddly squat. I’m pretty sure a professional thief will know the difference.”

  “What I’d like to know is,” Jillian interrupted, “what are we supposed to do if Curtis discovers these are fakes and gets angry? What if he pulls a gun on us?”

  “I’m glad you asked,” Vance replied. He gave Jillian a grin. “My officers will be everywhere. You told me this house is full of hidden passageways and secret rooms, right? Well, we’re going to make use of that. I’ll have people hidden everywhere. That way, as soon as Mr. Stiller puts in an appearance, we’ll have him. All we need for him to do is step inside. That’s it.”