by Vic Crume
Alfie hardly glanced at Noah. He placed Jean's hands on the iron railing that circled the lantern gallery. "There, that's good. Now you lean back and look terrified. Are you ready, Leonard?"
Leonard stepped forward, adjusting the neck of his cape. "My necklace!" he gasped. "It's gone!"
Noah Baxter grinned and held up the fake. "Found it on the stairs, Leonard. Here you are."
But as Leonard reached out for it, Noah let the necklace slide from his fingers. It plummeted to the rocks below.
"Noah!" Keith Raynor cried out sharply.
Noah shrugged. "Sorry, kid!"
Leonard dashed into the lantern gallery and ran for the stairs. Alfie and Jean sped close behind him.
Keith glared at Noah. "That was a rotten thing to do."
Noah leaned his elbows on the railing and looked down at the rocks. "You said yourself that the kid might not be fooled. Besides, a so-called ruby fell out of it. Some work you do!"
Keith's hands clenched. Then he turned away and hurried after the boys and Jean.
He reached them none too soon. Almost at the very edge of the cliff, Leonard was wiggling out of Alfie's grasp. "But I can see it," he was saying desperately. "It's right down there on the rocks." He moved his foot and loose stones began sliding and clattering down the steep slope. Far below, surf smashed against the rocks and salt spray rose high in the air.
"Leonard, you can't go down there," Alfie cried, clutching his brother.
Keith caught Leonard's shoulders and pulled him back. "Leonard," he said gently, "you'll never reach it. Forget it. I think we've all had enough for a while. How about a break? Ice cream sound good?"
As the four walked back to the lighthouse, Leonard looked back at the cliff edge. And high above them, Noah Baxter watched them with a tight little grin.
"Tough luck, kid," he muttered cynically.
CHAPTER 7
Back again at the cottage, Alfie sat at the kitchen table designing titles for his film. Across from him, Leonard and Watson watched Jean add a few drops of steak sauce to the bowl of catsup she was mixing.
She set it down and tilted it toward Alfie. "Sir, the blood is ready," she said.
Alfie glanced at it. "Mmm. Say, Jean — which of these titles do you like best? Horror of Dracula; Dracula, Prince of Darkness; Dracula Risen from the Grave; or Scars of Dracula? All the really good titles have been taken."
Jean eyed Watson as he hopped up on a chair and sampled the contents of the bowl. He licked his chops in a pleased way. "How about Taste the Blood of Dracula," she suggested.
"It's been used," Alfie answered. "Leonard, we'd have the ideal title if you'd only traded that necklace for the ring when I told you to. I'd have called it The Deadly Ring of Dracula. Now I can't even call it The Deadly Necklace of Dracula."
Leonard didn't reply. He left the kitchen with Watson at his heels.
Five minutes later, Watson was riding in the bike carrier as Leonard, fishing rod over his shoulder, pedaled toward the lighthouse — and the cliff.
At the cliff's edge, Watson's enjoyment of the outing came to a sudden end.
"Stay," Leonard commanded.
Watson didn't mind "staying" at all. Nothing could have tempted him to go down over the edge of the cliff. It was Leonard's not staying that was ruining the afternoon. Watson woofed and whined anxiously as he watched Leonard lower himself over the craggy rocks.
Holding a fishing rod in one hand and grabbing at rocks with the other was no easy job. Leonard tried not to look all the way down to the dizzying foam that swirled around the base of the cliff.
Inch by inch, Leonard moved to a narrow foothold where he could press his back against the rock wall to steady himself. And there he made his first try with hook and line to catch the necklace on the rocks below.
He lowered the line until the hook nibbled at the necklace. It didn't catch. Leonard reeled in a bit and tried again. This time he felt the hook grab. Excitedly he reeled in. Up, up, came the necklace, swaying gently. Then, to Leonard's dismay, the line caught fast in a crevice in the rocks.
There was only one thing to do — and Leonard did it. He began to edge his way down the steep face of the cliff. Small rocks loosened beneath his sneakers and he could see the sickening plunge they made to the sea below. Fear choked his throat. He knew he must keep his eye on the necklace and think of nothing else. One step at a time. Another, then another. And there was the necklace within reach! He worked the line free and then stuffed the necklace in his pocket.
It wasn't until he looked up the cliff that Leonard realized his terrible danger. Sliding and grabbing his way down had been bad, going back looked impossible.
With every reach and push of his sneakers, rocks loosened and clattered down and off into space. In one dreadful slip, Leonard felt himself dangling in air. Only his hands held. Desperately he kicked his legs, found another foothold, and the struggle to the top began again.
Watson was watching all this so intently that he never noticed the arrival of his old enemy, Bill Wasdahl. But Leonard did. Two shoes came into view just as he was making a grab for the grass edge at the cliff top. But as his fingers clutched at it, the soil began to break away. For one dreadful moment Leonard was sure he'd lost his chance of reaching the top.
"Watson!" he screamed.
Almost as he began to hurtle backward, one of the jeweler's shoes came at him.
"Grab, boy! Grab my ankle!" Bill Wasdahl shouted.
Seconds later, he was standing safe and sound and looking up at Bill Wasdahl.
"Are you all right?" the jeweler asked.
Too shaken to speak, Leonard nodded.
"What are you doing here?" Bill Wasdahl asked.
"Fishing," Leonard gasped.
"Fishing!" Bill Wasdahl looked at Leonard suspiciously.
Leonard nodded. "Yes, I was."
Bill Wasdahl frowned. "Come on. I'll take you home. I want to make sure your mother knows where I found you 'fishing.'"
"Oh — you needn't bother, Mr. Wasdahl," Leonard answered quickly. "I have my bike."
"No bother. We'll take that along too. Don't worry."
But Leonard Booth was very worried. "This will be worse than the cliff!" he thought miserably.
As soon as Bill Wasdahl left, Marsha Booth hugged Leonard close. "Leonard, you could have been killed."
"I wasn't," Leonard replied uneasily, knowing the worst was to come.
"You could have been. And that settles it." She looked from Leonard to Alfie. "Boys, you're both confined to the house for a week. And Jean, it's your job to see that they're both all right."
Jean flushed. "I know, Mrs. Booth."
"Mom!" Alfie said angrily. "Why should I be confined to the house? I didn't do anything."
"No, you didn't," his mother said. "And that's just it. You're Leonard's older brother. You should have been looking out for him too."
Like Jean, Alfie flushed. "I guess you're right, Mom."
Mrs. Booth left the room and Alfie threw himself into a chair and glared at Leonard. "And now how am I going to finish my picture?" he asked.
"I had to get the necklace," Leonard said stubbornly.
"You and that stupid necklace," Alfie snapped. "And you didn't even get it back."
"Yes I did," Leonard said. He pulled it from his pocket. Where there had been four "rubies," now there were only three — and they were not nearly as shiny and glowing as Leonard remembered. He walked away and picked up his magnifying glass.
Alfie thumped his heels on the floor. "We might as well send out the invitations to the opening," he said gloomily. "I'll get my prints back in a couple of days, and I'm not going to be able to add anymore scenes to this movie — I can see that. Did you finish the list, Jean?"
Jean nodded. "Here it is. Your mom, my father, and — "
Leonard walked in. "I knew it. There's something wrong with this necklace. The color's different and — "
Jean glanced up and away again. "Looks all right t
o me," she said. She turned back to Alfie. "I'm asking Keith Raynor and Noah Baxter — and Mr. Wasdahl too. How's that?"
"Great!" Alfie exclaimed. "Jean, this is going to be big."
Jean laughed. "I know. Red carpets, flowers, everything."
"Sure," Alfie said seriously. "I want it to be a regular Hollywood premiere."
Leonard could see that nobody was really interested in listening to him. "Come, Watson," he said.
Leonard's next try was his mother. Maybe she'd listen. "Mom, it's my necklace. Something's wrong. It's changed. I just know it's different."
Mrs. Booth turned away from her typewriter. "Sounds as though you have a real mystery on your hands."
Leonard nodded. "That's what I think."
"Have you any suspects?" his mother smiled. "In my books, the person most unlikely to commit a crime is the one who is the criminal. Has anybody shown an interest in the necklace?"
Long after Leonard had gone to bed he was thinking of the right answer to his mother's question. Scenes flashed into his mind. Noah had said it was nice. Keith said he could use it for a collage. Bill Wasdahl had offered him a trade. Jean liked it, and Alfie had wanted to use it for a trade. "In the morning, first thing, I'm going to make a list of suspects," he thought sleepily. "First thing."
Right after breakfast, Leonard started his questioning with Jean. "Sure I said your necklace was pretty, Leonard." She smiled. "But I'm a beads person myself. I'm going to need help with the cookies for the party. Are you going to be around?"
Leonard quietly crossed Jean's name off the list.
Alfie was next, but Leonard found it hard to believe Alfie was a real suspect. He drew a line through Alfie's name. "That leaves only Noah Baxter and Keith Raynor," Leonard said to himself. "But if they'd really wanted the necklace, they could have gone down the cliff themselves. I'd never have seen it again. I might as well give up. Without them I just don't have any suspects."
He put the list in his pocket. As he started out of the kitchen, a question popped into his mind. "What would Sherlock Holmes do right now?" And Leonard knew the answer. "He wouldn't give up," he said aloud.
"What did you say, Leonard?" Jean asked.
"Oh — nothing," Leonard replied.
CHAPTER 8
Sheriff Wyndham's car was already parked in the Booth's driveway when Noah Baxter and Keith Raynor arrived for Alfie's premiere.
"I don't like this," Noah grumbled. "Suppose the sheriff recognizes the necklace in the movie?"
Keith Raynor laughed. "That small-town hayseed? Forget it. Come on. Let's get this over with."
Both men managed to smile when Marsha Booth greeted them at the front door. Alfie's premiere seemed to be getting off to a great start. Everything was ready — from lighted candles on the refreshment table to eerie music on the phonograph.
Leonard, wearing the necklace, went from person to person with a plate loaded with cookies. "Hi, Mr. Baxter. Want a cookie?"
Noah Baxter's hand went out — and stopped. He stared at Leonard's necklace. "How —?"
Keith Raynor hastily spoke. "I see you got your necklace back. That's great."
Leonard didn't blink. "I got it with my fishing line, but it's not mine."
Keith tried to smile. "Oh? Whose is it?"
"I don't know," Leonard answered. "But I'm going to find out."
Keith shrugged. "If you want my opinion, it's the same ordinary costume jewelry you had before. Unfortunately, I've finished the collage I was working on. I don't want it."
"Oh." Leonard's voice showed his disappointment. Mentally, he crossed Keith's name off the list of suspects.
He looked at Noah Baxter. "Have another cookie, Mr. Baxter. Do you think dreams mean anything?"
"What?" Noah reached for a cookie.
"I had a dream about you. I dreamed you took my necklace."
Noah suddenly uncrossed his legs. His foot hit the bottom of the loaded cookie plate and cookies rolled in all directions. He bent over to help pick them up. "Now look what you made me do," he said, trying to laugh. "You just had a dream, kid. I never wanted your necklace."
Leonard stared at him suspiciously. He turned away, put down the cookie plate, took out his suspect list, and quickly circled Noah Baxter's name.
"Okay, everybody. Sit down. We're ready to start," Alfie called out. "Leonard, will you turn off the lights?"
Jean turned on the record player, and to the strains of chilling, stirring music, Alfie's masterpiece began.
Across the screen, the title loomed up — Dracula and the Sheriff's Daughter. Next came the credits — Directed, Produced, Written, Photographed, Edited, and Scored by Alfred Booth.
Everybody clapped and concentrated on the screen — everybody but Noah Baxter. He still had his mind on Leonard. "That kid's up to something," he thought uneasily. He glanced toward Leonard's chair.
It was empty.
On the cliff, the lighthouse loomed against the sky, pale as a tombstone beneath the moon and stars. From the rocks below came the boom of crashing surf.
Leonard propped his bike against a dark clump of bushes. Then, picking up Watson and the flashlight he had brought along, he started up the driveway.
Watson scampered on ahead and was already scratching at the door by the time Leonard reached it. Leonard turned the knob. Locked. "Maybe they've left a window open. Come on, Watson," Leonard said.
There was no window open, but he found a small window in the storage room that was unlocked. Leonard opened it easily. But before he could even turn on his flashlight, Watson vanished over the window sill.
"Watson! Wait!" Leonard cried. "Come back here!"
A faraway, cheerful bark came from the darkness. Leonard flashed his light and followed Watson into the lighthouse. The strong beam of the flashlight fell on the burned out wall safe but no Watson was in sight. Fearfully, Leonard moved on until a noise from above brought him to a sudden stop. It was Watson on the stairs outside the second floor workshop.
"Come on down here!" Leonard called. "We're supposed to be searching together."
Watson signaled with a departing wag of his tail and trotted on into the workroom. Leonard hesitated a moment, then hurried up the stairs. "You're supposed to be following me — not me following —" He broke off as his glance went to the worktable.
Twisted in a golden glitter was the Daumier necklace. "My necklace!" Leonard exclaimed. He hurried over to pick it up. Not a ruby was left!
While he was still staring at the remains of the once beautiful necklace, headlight beams flashed across the room and Leonard heard the roar of the Volkswagen zooming up the drive.
Grabbing the necklace, he scooted to a window. The drop below was much too far. Frantically, he looked around. As footsteps sounded on the stairs, he swept Watson up in his arms and crawled under the worktable. He bumped against a heavy wooden box — the coffin box. Leonard shuddered and held Watson closer. "Don't bark," he begged.
Keith Raynor and Noah Baxter walked in. Leonard could see their shoes. Then his view widened as the two men crossed the room and went straight to a small steel box. Keith opened it and lifted out seven glowing rubies set in a brand new necklace.
"One thing I'm sure of," Keith said. "Nobody will recognize the Daumier jewels now."
"The Daumier jewels!" Leonard gasped to himself. "Of course! They were stolen from Mr. Flack!"
"Let's celebrate," Keith was saying. "A hundred thousand dollar necklace in the clear is worth a toast. I'll go down and get some drinks."
"The fence ought to be getting here any minute," Noah said.
Keith laughed. "Yeah. Bill isn't going to recognize the jewels now. I'll be back in a second."
Fence— that would be the man who was going to sell the stolen jewels for them. Leonard listened as Keith's footsteps on the staircase faded away.
Two shoes moved over by the table. "I know you're there, kid. I can see your mutt's tail. Come on out," a hard voice said.
There was a moment's
absolute silence, then— WHAM! Leonard shoved hard on the pine box. It went hurtling out — straight into Noah Baxter's shins. In the same second Leonard and Watson shot out from the other side of the table. Leonard swerved to snatch the necklace from the steel box, then made a rush for the stairs.
"Keith!" Noah yelled. "Get him!"
But Keith, tray in hand, was no match for Leonard or Watson. They plowed past him and were out the front door before Keith realized what was happening.
"After them!" Noah shrieked, hobbling down the stairs as fast as he could. "They've got the necklace!"
In the darkness beyond the lighthouse entrance, Leonard crashed straight into a man heading for the doorway.
"Help! Help!" he cried out. "They're after me! They're jewel thieves!"
"Bill," Noah shouted. "Grab that kid. He's got the jewels!"
Bill! That was the name of the man Noah had called "the fence"! Too late Leonard realized he was begging the wrong person for help. He struggled in the iron grip of the man standing in the dark. "Let me go!" he cried — and looked up.
To his amazement, he saw Bill Wasdahl, the town jeweler. And his name hadn't even appeared on the suspects list that Leonard had left in the kitchen!
In the storage room of the lighthouse, the three jewel thieves clustered together. "You can't keep that kid locked up there in the lantern gallery," Bill Wasdahl said. "That's kidnapping. I didn't expect anything like this."
"Who's kidnapping?" Noah Baxter asked. "They'll find him by tomorrow, and by that time we'll be long gone. I'm not sticking around here to become a ward of the state. And you take my advice — get yourself out of the country too, while there's still time."
Bill's eyes widened. "You can count me out of this deal," he said. And, without adding another word, he brushed past Keith and Noah. The door banged behind him.
Seconds later, the headlights of his car picked out the figures of Alfie Booth and Jean Wyndham trudging up the driveway. He ducked his head and sped past them.
