Case of the Highland House Haunting

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “You don’t,” I said. “And I’m not asking you to. You said it yourself earlier: if you take possession of the jewels, then you’ll go. That’s all I want you two to do. Leave. So, if that means I need to cooperate in order to make that happen, then so be it. Now, can we look around?”

  “No funny business,” Bart growled. “I got the gun. I give the orders.”

  “You have the gun,” Jillian corrected.

  “Stop doing that, lady!” Bart cried. “You’re driving me nuts!”

  Jillian handed me Watson’s leash and I gave each of them a gentle tug. Once both corgis were looking at me, I offered them some slack in their leashes.

  “Come on, you two. We have a job to do. We need to find some missing jewelry. Sherlock? Watson? If you ever wanted to impress me, now’s the time to do it. Let’s go find some loot, okay?”

  Just like that, both dogs were on the move. I was led out of the master bedroom and down the stairs. Once we were in the foyer, the corgis led me back to the large game room adjacent to the den. Like the den and the servant’s room, it had wall to wall paneling, so if there did happen to be another hidden room in here, then it was well concealed. I didn’t see anything that appeared out of the ordinary.

  Sherlock glanced back at me as he trotted through the open doorway, and then immediately turned left. Standing before the southwestern corner of the large room, I could only stare at my dogs with a skeptical expression on my face. There was something here? It sure didn’t look like it. Sherlock, however, promptly sat, which was his way of saying, I’m done giving clues, so the rest is up to you.

  “What is it?” I heard Jillian’s voice ask.

  Turning, I saw Bart and Curtis, standing uncomfortably close to Jillian. Shrugging, I stepped out of the way so that I could show them what was there, which was just an empty corner. Bart growled and clutched his gun tightly in his fist.

  “There ain’t nothin’ there, bub,” Bart told me, with a growl. “Try again.”

  I looked down at the dogs. Sherlock, who had been sitting on his rump as he stared at the blank corner, slid into a down position and refused to move. Watson joined him a few moments later.

  “There’s your answer,” I told Bart. I pointed at the dogs. “You can see them for yourself. There’s something here, otherwise they wouldn’t have done that.”

  “But we’ve searched this room,” Curtis protested. “Over and over. There ain’t nothing in that corner!” Curtis caught sight of Jillian’s disapproving frown and sighed. “There isn’t nothing… anything… there isn’t anything in that corner. Happy?”

  Jillian nodded, “Yes, thank you.”

  I held the leashes out to my girlfriend and, once she had taken them, approached the corner. I reached for my multi-tool on my belt, but that had the unfortunate effect of making both thieves flinch and grip their guns tighter. I held up my hands and showed them the tool.

  “It’s just a pair of folded-up pliers. Look, do you see this? I bend this, and then this, and lock them into position. Now, what does it look like?”

  “Pliers,” Curtis decided.

  “Exactly. I’m unarmed. In fact, I hate guns.”

  “He really does,” Jillian helpfully added.

  I began by tapping the walls, hoping I’d be able to hear some type of tonal change should I encounter a concealed door. Nope. The movies make it look so easy, but it wasn’t. Everything sounded alike to me.

  Grunting irritably, I looked down at the dogs.

  “Care to help me out, guys? You insist there’s something here.” I pointed at Bart and Curtis. “Right now, I’m with them. There’s nothing here.”

  “Awwwoooooo!” Sherlock howled. He still refused to budge.

  Jillian stepped up beside me and peered closely at the paneled wall.

  “My eyes are better than yours. Maybe I can spot something you might have overlooked?”

  I stepped back, out of the way, and waved my hand, “By all means, have at it. If I can’t spot anything, and these two haven’t spotted anything, and they’ve been searching for an extended amount of time, then…”

  “Years,” Bart grumbled.

  “…I highly doubt that…”

  “Found something,” Jillian reported.

  Both thugs were by her side in a flash.

  “What is it? Whatcha find?” Curtis inquired.

  “This piece of paneling is loose,” Jillian said. She tapped an almost invisible seam between two pieces of panel. “I’d say someone has either pried this piece off the wall, or else it has somehow been moved.”

  “Get out of the way!” Bart cried, as he shoved Jillian to the side.

  Sherlock let out a warning woof. Jillian patted the corgi’s head and ruffled his fur.

  “It’s okay, pretty boy. I’m all right.”

  A loud crack made us jump. Even the dogs. Turning back to our ‘hosts’, we could see that Bart had managed to pry the paneling up and away from the wall. Curtis had wiggled his fingers under the seam and yanked, which resulted in breaking the panel in half.

  “Hah!” Bart exclaimed. “I knew it! I just knew there was something here!”

  Curtis glared at him, “No, you didn’t. You had no clue, just like me.”

  With half of the wooden panel missing, we could all plainly see the beginnings of yet another hidden door. It took Bart less than ten seconds to frantically clear away the remaining bits of paneling. Once the door, in its entirety, had been uncovered, they both scrabbled furiously at the seam. Unfortunately, the seam was too narrow. The door had been fitted too snugly, and neither could find purchase to pry the door open.

  Bart dropped to the ground, “Hurry! Curt, check over there. There must be some way to open this. Look for buttons, levers, anything!”

  At this point, Sherlock finally moved. The tri-colored corgi’s head swiveled, until he was looking at a nearby end table, which was resting against the wall nearly a dozen feet away. Curious as to what Sherlock was staring at, I walked over and studied the empty table. Then, I ran my fingers under the table, ignoring what felt like several fossilized wads of gum. And there it was. I felt a small, flattened, one inch box that had a button on it. I cleared my throat and waited for the two goons to look my way.

  “Step aside,” I ordered.

  Skeptical, Bart moved away. When Curtis made no attempt to move, Bart grabbed him by his arm and physically yanked him out of the way.

  “Ow! Why’d you do that?”

  “Just watch. Okay, do whatever you’re gonna do, bro.”

  I pressed the button. There was a soft click and just like that, the newly discovered door was ajar. Letting out whoops of joy, both men pushed the door open and eagerly stepped through.

  “How did they miss that door opener?” Jillian quietly asked.

  Before I could answer, there was an exclamation of surprise. Then, Curt reappeared in the doorway, brandishing his gun. He pointed it at the two of us.

  “You two. Get in here. We’re not about to leave you unguarded. Now, go!”

  I passed a leash over to Jillian without checking to see which dog it belonged to, and stepped through. Jillian followed close behind me. I slipped a hand into my pocket and pulled out my cell, since this would be a good time to use my handy-dandy flashlight app.

  Once the LED had been activated, I was able to look around. We were standing in a very narrow tunnel which turned sharply left, and then angled steeply down. Was this a shortcut to the basement? However, after continuing down for what felt like several minutes, we reached the bottom. Bart was visible, and he was holding a tiny flashlight.

  “I take it you’ve never been down here,” I guessed.

  Bart didn’t bother acknowledging. He was too busy inspecting the small subterranean room we were in, clearly looking for loot. With all of us holding our lights above our heads, we could make out the size and shape of the tiny room. As we entered the small chamber, I ran my hands along the side of the wall. Concrete. This room must have been
Dame Highland’s secret vault!

  It was roughly 12’ by 12’, in the shape of a perfect square. A stack of crates was in the far corner. Several were lying open, their lids flung across the room. From my position near the center of the room, I could see that the crates contained bottles. Whiskey bottles. I shrugged. It made sense. Over on my right, I could see several long, narrow boxes stacked like books. Judging from the size, I guessed they were paintings. The wall opposite me had a row of four small pedestals, each of which were covered with cloths.

  Trying to control my pounding heart, I lifted the cloth off the first pedestal. Underneath was a glass display case, which I was guessing to be about one foot square. Sadly, the case was empty. I moved to the second. It, too, was empty.

  “What do ya got there?” Bart called out. He hurried over so he could see for himself. “Did you open these? Did you take whatever was in there?”

  “You can see by the dust that I haven’t touched them,” I said. I pointed at the two cloths that I had discarded onto the ground. “They were just like those other two. I was about to see what was under them.”

  “I’ll take care of that, thank you very much. We don’t need you trying to make off with the merchandise, do we?”

  “I told you before, and I’ll tell you again,” I said, as I sighed. “I don’t care about anything in here. I want you guys to get what you came for and then leave. Is that so hard to understand?”

  “Even if there’s a 500 carat gem in one of them cases?” Bart insisted.

  “One of those cases,” Jillian said, with an exasperated sigh.

  “Whatever,” Bart grumbled. “Think I didn’t know about Czarina’s Tear? What do you think kept us here for so long and kept bringing us back after we gave up?”

  “We want that emerald,” Curtis added, nodding. “It’s ours, lady. And we’re gonna get it.”

  “It’s a garnet,” Jillian informed them. “It’s not an emerald. Yes, its green, but other gemstones come in green.”

  “So, you know about it, too,” Bart accused. “Damn, I knew you were lyin’, lady.”

  About ready to take an angry breath, Jillian laid her hand on mine.

  “It’s not worth it,” she whispered. “Let them think whatever they want.”

  “Well, well,” Bart chortled, as he whipped off the third cloth. “Lookee what we got here! Ain’t that a sight for sore eyes?”

  I caught a glimpse of something large and green in the case before Curtis eagerly crowded close and cut off my view. I should also point out it was about the size of a chicken egg. Did they find the demantoid garnet?

  The next ten seconds slowed to a crawl. I saw Bart raise the butt of his gun, intent on smashing it down onto the case. Sherlock, who up until this time, had been resting at my feet, sprung up, barked once, and tore off. Watson was right on her packmate’s tail. And, I should point out that both corgis were sprinting for the door, as though some type of predator was giving chase.

  I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I trust my dogs. If they turn to leave the room, I’m bound to follow. However, if they haul ass out of the room, and I can see Bart was about ready to smash the gun down, then I’m guessing those two intelligent canines knew something that I didn’t.

  I snatched up Jillian’s hand and bolted for the exit tunnel. I heard Curtis shout something at us, followed by a loud smash. Then I felt a searing pain hit my right shoulder, but I had no intentions of stopping.

  That’s when I felt the rumble.

  Jillian and I made it through the doorway just as a heavy iron grate sprang up from the ground, effectively sealing the two thugs in the ‘vault’. A few seconds later, Curtis’ face appeared on the other side of the bars.

  “Hey! What’d you do? Open this up! Let us out of here or else I’ll kill you all!”

  I shooed the dogs up the tunnel while pulling Jillian behind me. We safely exited the tunnel and emerged into the large game room. I heard Jillian gasp with surprise as I suddenly felt woozy and started to stumble.

  “Zachary! Oh, no! Hold on! I’m calling for an ambulance. Hold on!!”

  Annnndddd… the world faded to black.

  TWELVE

  One month later, I was standing in the foyer of Highland House. The renovation was coming along nicely. The front entry had its mosaic tile floor refinished. The snooker table had been polished, re-felted (is that even a word?), and returned to the game room. And, much to Vance’s chagrin, the balls were still pink. My girlfriend, it would seem, wanted to keep everything as original as possible.

  I headed to the living room and took a seat. I was here to pick up Jillian and, together, we were going to head to dinner. As I leaned back in the chair, I felt another twinge of pain from my right shoulder. Well, it was bound to happen. After all, I had been shot.

  Truthfully, it still haunted my dreams, but I wasn’t going to admit that to anyone. Not yet, anyway. In case you’re wondering what part of me had been hit, it was my right shoulder. That’s why my right arm is in a sling and the simple act of moving it brought tears of pain to my eyes. Had the bullet hit either an inch or two in the wrong direction, I had been told, then I could’ve lost the use of my arm altogether. But, I’m told the wound could have been a lot worse.

  Sure doesn’t feel that way.

  Anyway, I can’t give you a firsthand experience on what had happened next because, much to my chagrin, I had passed out. Sure, I had been shot, and without realizing it, had lost a lot of blood. I do remember Jillian freaking out on me once we made it up and out of the subterranean cement room, but then that was it. The nice thing is, I know Jillian will never give me hell for passing out. Not like Vance would. Or did. But, I will say I think I earned a little more respect in my detective friend’s eyes.

  Ok, let’s start with TweedleDee and TweedleDum. They, as you might have imagined, had been caught red-handed in the vault, as I have come to call it. Even handcuffed, as they were led away, the two cousins were threatening to lay into one another, as though they each believed the other was the reason why they had been captured.

  As for us, we made it out of the vault before it sealed itself. How the dogs knew bad things were going to happen if that display case was damaged was beyond me. Who would have imagined that Dame Highland would have had a (for the time) top notch security system installed on her vault, and that it was still operational? And, somehow, the dogs knew they had to vacate the area, and do so rapidly. I really don’t know why I still question the dogs’ motives. They’re clearly smarter than me and they know it. I’m just thankful no one else had been hurt.

  Czarina’s Tear had vanished. That’s the official report. However, both Jillian and I knew what had really happened. Shards of green glass had been discovered on the ground inside the vault, so I can only assume someone had tripped and fallen on the gem. The fact that it broke clearly identifies it as being a fake. Too bad. I would have liked to have known what it had been worth.

  Speaking of worth…

  The fourth display case? It had remained covered, seeing how Curtis and Bart had more important things on their mind than discovering what else was waiting for them. No, it didn’t contain the real Czarina’s Tear. In my opinion, it contained something much better. It held the Royal Danish egg.

  The what, you ask?

  The Royal Danish egg was one of six missing Fabergé eggs belonging to the Russian Royal Family. This particular egg was delivered to the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna, born in Denmark as Princess Dagmar. She returned to Denmark for her father’s 40th anniversary of his ascension to the throne. The egg had been a gift to commemorate the occasion. How do I know so much about this? Well, Jillian, for one, somehow recognized the egg almost immediately. I tell you, that is one well-educated woman. And second, that egg’s value has been placed somewhere in the 20 to 30 million dollar range.

  Yeah, you read that right.

  Before you ask what we’re going to do with the egg, I can tell you it has already been do
ne. The egg has been returned to Russia. Well, it was given to the Russian Embassy in San Francisco, if you want to get technical. To say they were flabbergasted that a missing Fabergé egg had not only surfaced but was to be returned, no questions asked, was a serious understatement. They passed along their eternal thanks. I’m told the Russian government is trying to find some way to thank us, only I have no idea how.

  Bear in mind, this happened while I was in the hospital, on some pretty powerful pain meds. I don’t remember a thing about any of it. But, that’s okay. I have no qualms about returning a stolen object to its rightful owner.

  Work on Highland House was back on schedule. In fact, I do believe they’re focusing on the kitchen today. If you’re wondering about all the hidden rooms and compartments scattered throughout the house, I can pretty much tell you that everything has been indexed and catalogued. Well, what was left. I can’t begin to fathom how many valuables Curtis and his partner must have stolen over the years. Or his family, for that matter. The contractors have strict orders to leave all hidden compartments and rooms exactly as they are. Jillian was serious when she said she wanted the entire house renovated. Every nook and cranny is being inspected to be certain it is safe. For the record, two more hidden rooms and five more hidden compartments had been found. Empty, of course, but I think it’s still cool as hell.

  Oh! I almost forgot to mention the jewelry. In order to address that topic, let me take you back two weeks, to the time I had finally stepped foot back inside Highland House after being shot.

  Jillian had her hands full with the corgis. I had volunteered to take one of the leashes, but Jillian wouldn’t hear of it. The last thing she wanted to see happen, she told me, was to have one of the dogs accidentally pull me off balance. And, since the corgis are strong little boogers, I knew it was a possibility. Without the use of my right arm, or hand, I felt like a complete invalid, even though Jillian constantly reminded me I had another perfectly useful hand. Ever try sign your name with your opposite hand? Yes, some can do it, but the vast majority of us can’t. I would fall into the latter category.