by Bill Doyle
The instrument swung over our head. Then the bow crashed into the strings of the violin and scraped across them, producing a sound like twelve cats in excruciating pain. And just as violently, the violin clattered back to the surface of the table and was still.
The violin played—badly!
“Ze spirit of ze famous French pirate Jean-Claude Noir iz here!” Mang announced. “And he has ze questions por one of you!”
With eyes burning brighter than ever, Mang shot out his index finger and pointed it at Virgil. “You!” Mang boomed. “Ze spirit has ze questions por vous, Mr. Virgil Gates.”
Asyla inched away from Virgil, who looked ready to run screaming from the room. “For me?” He squeaked.
“Yes!” Mang said. “He vants to know vhat it iz you are doing here in ze mansion!”
These words seemed to push Virgil closer to some kind of attack.
Enough was enough. Judge wouldn't want this. The séance had gone way beyond fun entertainment.
”These people are terrified,” I said to Mang.
Mang was furious at the interruption. “Silence!” he hissed.
Virgil
I kept my eyes on Virgil, pointing at Mang. “This man is an illusionist—“
“I am not! I am a spiritualist!” Mang screamed. “I demand silence!”
“—and not a very talented illusionist, either,” I continued, ignoring him.
Like a drowning man grasping at a lifeline, Virgil grabbed at my words. “But the spirit…”
“A spirit didn't do anything. It was all Mang.” I hated to ruin a fellow magician's act. But Mang was giving all illusionists a bad name by scaring these people.
Virgil's eyes started to lose their panicked glow. “The table! How did it leap up on its own? Mang was holding hands with us…”
“He could have moved the table with his legs.” I demonstrated by jamming my thighs up against the table. It jumped slightly.
“Ach! Ze insults ze child heaps upon me!” Mang cried. But Virgil was listening to me. His face wasn't nearly as red and I could see he was embarrassed to have caused a scene in front of Asyla. “And what about the violin?” he asked.
“The violin is controlled by wires, I'm certain,” I said. “If there were lights in this room, you'd see them. Holding hands keeps the sitters from reaching out in the darkness and discovering hidden wires, which Mang controls with his leg.”
This time Mang didn't protest. He just kept glaring at me.
“And this.” I picked up the heavy crystal ball from its stand.
“This is just a big ball of—“
Lightning flashed. Then I saw it. My mouth snapped shut.
“Big ball of what?” Virgil whined, growing anxious again.
Asyla noticed my frozen stare. “What's eating you?” But I couldn't speak. In the flash of lightning I had spotted something in the corner of the parlor. Something that made my blood run cold.
A shadowy figure had been standing there. Its hand had reached out—then with a blue flash, the strange ghostlike shape vanished.
Too bad they don't work!
By the time the others followed my gaze, the figure was gone.
I could explain a lot. A moving table, a floating violin, mysterious messages from the grave—but this…this was something no illusionist I'd ever encountered could create. The figure I spotted had simply disappeared into thin air. Was this a spirit after all?
The shock took a moment to set in. Suddenly I jerked backward. I toppled over in my chair. The crystal ball I'd been holding shot up into the air, high over Virgil's head. He was too panicked to move. The crystal ball arced…it was about to crash down on top of Virgil's skull—
Virgil was saved!
When two hands shot out and snatched the crystal ball out of the air.
“There's a difference between using this ball to contact the spirits and using it to join them,” a voice said. I instantly felt better.
Standing over me was a glamorous woman who stood nearly six feet tall in high heels. Her blond hair was cut in a fashionable bob, and she wore a sleeveless dress covered with glittering purple rhinestones.
It was Judge!
Holding the crystal ball, she peered down at me, where I still lay on my back on the floor. “G. Codd, what is it?”
“I thought…,” I stammered, taking her outstretched hand and climbing to my feet.
“What? Tell me.” Judge's green eyes were full of concern.
When I didn't answer her, I watched Judge do what she does best. She took charge of the situation.
She put the crystal ball back in its stand and turned her attention to Mang. “What's going on? I hired you to show the guests a good time, not shock them into a stupor.”
Mang shrugged sheepishly and seemed to wither under her gaze.
It sounds ridiculous, but I was shaking. “I saw someone…something…in the corner.”
This is where the figure vanished.
Judge looked at me. Her face softened as she said, “Not to worry, my friend.”
The rhinestones on her dress clicked as Judge strode to the wall and flipped a switch. The room was suddenly ablaze with the light from two mammoth crystal chandeliers. Judge pulled on the velvet cord to call the butler as Mang scurried about tucking wires beneath his cape. But I was no longer interested in him. I had seen something, something that could not have been created by moving knees and thin wire.
“Come over here, G. Codd, and let's see what we can see,” she said. She was standing in the corner where I had everything, trying to detect something suspicious. “Nothing's here. Just a pile of presents for my engagement party.”
Charles rushed into the room, a smile on his face showing he was eager to help.
“Why on earth are these presents in here?” Judge asked him.
The butler's smiled disappeared. He looked terrified of Judge. She can have that effect on people—without even realizing it.
“I am so sorry, Miss Pinkerton,” Charles stammered. “The parlor maid found a large crate near the cellar door and brought it and the others in here.”
“Someone should tell our Miss Pinkerton that it's tacky to argue with the help,” Asyla whispered loudly to Virgil. He chuckled as if she were the epitome of humor, and the two left the room.
Judge ignored them. “It's fine, Charles,” she said, some of the familiar lilt back in her voice. “Would you take them up to my room when you have moment, please?”
Charles picked up as many of the packages as he could carry and left the packages as he could carry and left the room.
Mang had packed up his things and made a hasty exit with the kartiers.
Judge must have seen I still had a case of the heebie-jeebies. She stepped closer and rested a hand on my shoulder. “Remember a few years ago when were talked about Occam's razor? Maybe that philosophy can help you now.”
There were two explanations for the vanishing figure in the corner: It was a ghost of a long-dead pirate called Jean-Claude Noir or it was just a trick of the light. I wasn't completely out of my mind—so it was obvious which explanation was the simplest.
TEC TIP
OCCAM'S RAZOR
William of Occam was a master of logic from the Middle Ages who wrote, “Pluralitas non est ponenda sine neccesitate.” Hid Latin translates roughly as: Of two competin theories of explanations, all other thing being equal, the simpler one is preferred.
That means: Don't make life more complicated than it needs to be. Most of the time, the simple answer is the right one.
“G. Codd, you've got one of the best young detective minds I know. I trust in your ability to see through illusion. You should do the same.” She gave my combed hair a good tussle. “Sorry about your surprise. I know Houdini's hero of yours. This séance was supposed to be something you'd remember from this weekend.”
“Thanks, Judge,” I said. y heartbeat had slowed from its breakneck pace. Maybe Occam's razor was a form of denial, but it did make me f
eel better. I smiled other. “And don't worry. I don't think I'll forget this night anytime soon.”
“Bully for you! Judge grinned. She took my arm and led me toward the door. “Now come on,” she cried. “I'm so excited about my future with John. And I want us to have fun at the party!”
As we left the parlor, I mad e myself happy for Judge. But I couldn't shake the feeling that what I had seen was more than a trick of the light.
The Great Hall
June 12, 1925
11:10 PM
Big. Enormous. Of gargantuan proportions. Take these descriptions, multiply them by 1,000. That's one way to get an idea about the size of the mansion's Great Hall.
With a 40-foot-high ceiling, the Hall was easily large enough house my father's 65-foot yacht–and then some. It was big enough for at least six basketball courts, and the three fireplaces were each large enough to hold a new Rolls-Royce.
Besides being the largest private room I had ever seen, the Great Hall had another unique feature. There was only one small window in the far wall. It was 10 inches wide by 8 inches tall.
Judge told me that the Hatherfords had bought the mansion two years ago from the previous owner–an infamous rumrunner. That's a person who transports liquor which is highly illegal. In fact, the Great Hall had been a speakeasy at one point. The lack of windows prevented prying eyes from peering in.
Judge's fiancé,
BOOTLEGGERS, BEWARE!
As of 1920, the United States government will not stand for any violations of the 18th Amendment to the United States Constitution. This amendment prohibits the “manufacture, sale, or transportation of intoxication liquor.”
Yes, bootlegging–or smuggling liquor–may appear to be profitable Al Capone is said to have made tens of millions in profit from his illegal business. But we will catch you - sooner or later–and will go to jail!
John Hatherford, had discovered that the mansion was riddled with secret passages, hiding places, and concealed doors. Judge said when john finally got the time to show her a few, she would tell me their locations. I'd get to explore them, too.
In the meantime, though, we had a party to explore. Judge and I stood at the top of the huge, 18-foot-wide staircase, looking down into the mansion's Great Hall. These stairs were one of just two ways in and out of the Great Hall— the other was a set of double doors that opened onto the side lawn.
If I had ever wondered why they call our decade the “Roaring Twenties”, what I saw below would've put an end to that mystery. The Great Hall was a mass of swirling, glittering, sweating, eating, laughing guests. The engagement party had hit full steam!
Flappers surrounded the stage where a hot jazz band played “Lady, Be Good”. The electric bulbs overhead had been dimmed, and the four blazing fires gave off an orange glow. Legs and arms flew everywhere as dancers struggled with the latest steps. A group of young girls
How they came up with the word “speakeasy” with feathers in their hair burst into hysterical laughter trying to teach the Kartiers how to do the Charleston.
A man with slicked-back hair and a full-length fur coat spotted Judge. He pointed up at her and shouted, “It's the bride-to-be!” soon others were calling out:
“There she is!” and “Congratulations!” the excitement rippled across the room until it reached the jazz band. The lead horn player switched his tune to “Here Comes the Bride”, and the rest of the band joined in.
With a wink at me, judge gave the crowd a little bow. They shouted and clapped even louder.
As we headed down the stairs, Judge took my hand. She said softly to me. “After my mom and dad died, you and you parents became even more important to me”. She gave my hand a squeeze.”I'm glad you're here, G. Codd, You're my family”.
I smiled at Judge. She had a way of always making me feel special. We reached the bottom of the stairs, and arms reached out to greet her. Judge said, “G. Codd, make sure you eat something!” The crowd whisked her away.
Finding something to eat wasn't hard. Countless waiters spun in and out of groups of guests, balancing trays heaped with caviar, finger sandwiches of duck, and other delicacies. The servers were constantly refilling their trays at tables that dripped with succulent roasts, mounds of chocolates, and oceans of some strange-smelling punch. Towering over these tables were several sculptures carved from huge blocks of ice.
I walked over to look more closely at one of the ice sculptures. It was Judge! She was smiling and holding hands with her fiancé, John Hatherford. The artist had carved john in his pilot's uniform, leather fur-lined jacket, cap, and goggles.
I was struck by a familiar feeling of surprise. John is great. But I always thought Judge would end up with someone who enjoyed detective work—or encouraged her dreams of becoming a lawyer.
Even in melting ice, john was a handsome man with a mischievous, lopsided grin—the kind all the girls fall for. (I admit after I met him for the first time last year, I practiced that smile in the mirror. But I could never seem to get it quite right.)
The next ice sculpture showed the other love of John's life: JENNY.
JENNY was John's second single-engine plane. Eight months ago, his first airplane had burst into flames for no clear reason over the North Carolina coast. He'd jumped out of the plane without a parachute and landed safely in the water. This earned him the nickname Jumpin' john.
JENNY, John's plane
John flew JENNY on trips for Hatherford Air Courier, Inc., the company that Judge ran. But picking up and dropping off packages wasn't enough. Jumpin' John was looking for new challenges. Dangerous challenges.
In fact, right now, John was soaring high over the Atlantic Ocean. About thirty hours ago, he had taken off from a field in France. He was due to arrive at the party by landing his plane on the small airstrip at the side of the house–becoming the first person ever to fly solo nonstop across the Atlantic!
AIRPLANE NEWS & GLOBAL REPORT
Competition for the Orteig Prize is hitting new heights! Several pilots have been killed or injured trying to win the prize, $25,000 offered by hotel owner Raymond Orteig to the first person who can fly nonstop between New York and Paris.
I was about to dig into another piece of cake when the jazz hand stopped playing. All eyes in the room turned to watch as Mr. Hiram Hatherford, like he could have played football when he was younger. His face had grown a little wrinkled, but his chest was like a barrel and his neck was thicker than my thigh.
“Good evening, everyone!” Mr. Hatherford boomed.
“Are you having fun?”
The guests shouted their appreciation. Mr. Hatherford waited for all the cheers to die down. “During my long life”, he told the crowd, “I have amassed great wealth. But nothing can compare to the treasure about to enter my family. The beautiful Justine Pinkerton and my son will soon be married!” After a burst of applause, Mr. Hatherford continued, “who knew four years ago that when I asked this brilliant woman to start and run our new air delivery service, I was ‘hiring’ a daughter-in-law? She has done amazing things with the business–
“ Cutting in, Mr.Kartier said, “A lady should know her place!” There was general laughter from the guests.
“Hey, Frank,” Mr. Hatherford told him, “join us in the'20s. Women can run businesses. Thank goodness, too. With Justine running the business, John can keep his head in the clouds. He flies delivers all across the country. And he has a very special delivery to make tonight”.
He paused and a woman in the crowd shouted, “What's he bringing us, Hiram?”
Mr. Hatherford laughed. “He's delivering his heart to Justine Pinkerton, by way of Europe”. A mixture of sighs, groans, and cheers broke out. Mr. Hatherford went on, “As a special engagement present to Justine, John is going to be the first person to make a nonstop solo transtlantic flight toningt!” The Great Hall rang with applause as the guests clapped and cheered. Mr. Hatherford had to shout above the din to be heard.
“Why don't we get Ju
stine up here to say a few words—“ Mr. Hatherford was interrupted by a woman with dozens of peacock feathers in her hair. She yelled at the top of her lungs, “There he is!”
Real peacock feathers!
The woman was pointing at the small window. people pushed and shove to gather around the tiny pane of goass and watch a teeny airplane bump out of the stormy night sky. Someone dimmed the lights overhead, making the scene outside a little easier to see— which was a good thing because the window provided a pretty blurry view of the action.
“I can't see!” someone yelled and pushed in closer to the window. A few guests, including me, stood up on chairs to get a better look over the others' heads.
We watched the airplane's jerky progress. It was being buffeted by the high winds as if it were a toy. The miniscule figure of the pilot could now be seen. Finally, ofter a few tense moments, the silent, anxious crowd watched the plane hit the airstrip with a jolt and taxi down the runway.
Cheers exploded, filling the Great Hall with deafening excitement. The crowed rushed toward the double doors that led to side lawn and the airstrip, but Charles blocked the exit.
Everyone crowded around the window.
“For goodness' sake, Charles, open the doors!” Mr. Hatherford called to the butler.
“But the rain, sir!” Charles called back. “It will ruin the carpets!”
Mr. Hartherford laughed. “Who cares about a little rain? These people want to welcome their hero!”
The butler threw open the doors.Cool night air swept into the room as guests poured out onto the patio. Judge and Mr. Hatherford led the way. My eyes went directly from the tiny window that showed the plane to the view through the double doors. I saw the plane sitting off in the distance, under a now-clearing sky. The rain had temporarily stopped.
I had to wait for the crowd to clear before I could fit out the double doors. Knowing this was a historic moments, I used the time to sketch the landing.
