Legend of the Gilded Saber

by Sigmund Brouwer

  I put a finger to my lips, then pointed Mike at a nearby mannequin of a soldier in a Confederate uniform. I made a slicing motion.

  He understood.

  He reached for the sword in the sheath attached to the mannequin's waist and began to pull.

  He frowned.

  Pulled harder.

  And the mannequin began to topple!

  I darted beneath it and held it up.

  Mike grinned.

  He pulled again and the sword came loose. I set the soldier upright.

  Ralphy had already taken a sword from the second dressed-up soldier.

  That left none for me.

  I looked around desperately. Saw an old musket pistol in an unlocked display case.

  I tiptoed over and grabbed it.

  Mike looked at me as if I were crazy.

  I shrugged.

  Noises were coming from the kitchen. What if it's the person who planted the stolen stuff in Ted Emmett's Mercedes?

  "Ready?" I whispered.

  Both of them nodded.

  We crept forward.

  Down the hallway where ancient oil portraits stared down on us.

  Past the dining room with the huge table where only the night before the two cops had grilled Devon with questions.

  Past a room with a huge fireplace.

  And on to the kitchen.

  "On three," I whispered. "Got it? One, two, three, and we jump on the guy."

  Again both of them nodded. Ralphy's messy, straight- up hair and his wide-eyed, frightened expression was a contrast to Mike's mean, almost angry concentration.

  They raised their swords high.

  I lifted my pistol musket.

  "One..." I whispered.

  "Two.. r

  Before I could say "three," Ralphy screamed a war whoop and charged forward.

  "Three..." I finished weakly and Mike and I followed him into the kitchen.

  And there she was.

  A tall brunette. In a blue jean skirt. Wearing a man's white button-up shirt over a blue T-shirt.

  "Caught me red-handed," she said, holding her hands high. "Please, don't hurt me."

  Chapter 16

  She smiled, then put her hands back down.

  "Let me guess," she said, still smiling. "You must be Mike, Devon's cousin. And the rest of you are his friends."

  Without waiting for an answer, she turned her back on us and lifted something from the counter. She faced us again and waved a slice of toast. "Devon's shown me photos of you, of course. Hard not to recognize that red hair."

  She took a bite and waited for us to say something.

  None of us did. We were too startled by her appearance. By her confidence. And by her lack of fear.

  "So what's with the Civil War attack?" she said after swallowing her first bite. "Did Devon put you up to this? Did he want to see if you could make me scream?"

  She looked past us.

  "Nice try, Devon," she called. "I suppose you were hoping to get this on video or something."

  "Urn ..." I said.

  She smiled. "Yes?"

  "Who are you?" I asked.

  "A thief who wanted to break in to get something to eat." She rolled her eyeballs. "Samantha Evans. Devon's girlfriend. He didn't tell you about me?"

  "It's been a little crazy since yesterday morning," Mike explained.

  "I can imagine. I heard about your reputation from Devon. Were you the one who broke the kitchen windows?"

  The pieces of cardboard were taped in place, hiding most of the courtyard from our view.

  "Actually," I said, "the craziness is about Devon. And his father. They've both been arrested."

  Samantha laughed. "Right."

  She called over my shoulder. "Devon! Nice try! It's not April Fool's Day."

  "Really," she said, "what's been happening?"

  "You came in the front, didn't you?" I answered.

  She took another bite of toast and nodded. "I've got my own key."

  "Went straight to the cupboard and fridge?" I continued.

  She nodded as she chewed.

  "Didn't really look out that one last little piece of window that's not taped down by cardboard, right?"

  She swallowed and nodded.

  "Take a close look at the garage," I said.

  She turned around and leaned on the counter as she stood on her tiptoes for a view.

  When she turned back to us, her face had lost all of its casual amusement.

  "A fire?"

  "Last night," Mike said. "Uncle Ted was arrested before. Devon after."

  She wanted to talk outside, but away from the view of anyone walking down the street. So we called for Lisa and joined Samantha in the courtyard, a short walk out the back door from the kitchen area.

  The scent of flowers was mixed with the smoky smell of the burned wood of the garage. The sun was already very hot, and the drone of insects filled the background.

  "Arrested," she repeated.

  "Haven't you been watching the news?" Mike asked.

  She shook her head. "I'm taking a summer session university course, and I've spent the last day locked in my room, working on a term paper. Which was why I was looking forward to seeing Devon today. The last time I saw him was the night before last. The night you guys came in. I remember, because Devon was telling me all about you while we drove to Savannah. We were going to borrow his dad's Mercedes, but my Mustang was back from repairs, so we went in that instead."

  "That's your Mustang that Devon was driving yesterday?" Mike asked. "Cool car."

  "Fun to drive, too. There was an arts festival in Savannah I wanted to see. We had a great time. And now you tell me both of them are in jail?"

  Mike explained. So far, Ralphy hadn't said a word. Just kept staring at her and then blushing and looking away when she glanced at him. I didn't blame him. She was Devon's age and cute enough that I understood why Ralphy was tongue-tied.

  "I find this so difficult to believe." Samantha had a deep southern accent. "Ted, stealing from the museum?"

  "Does that mean you'd find it easy to believe Devon broke into Stang's office?" I asked, hoping she wouldn't get mad at me.

  Samantha smiled ruefully. "He's had a rough past. Drugs and petty theft. I thought, though, since he and his dad started going to the church that I attend that things had changed. I mean, it's been a year since Devon was in any kind of trouble. He got that great job at the museum and really turned his life around."

  She stared off into the distance. "No, I still refuse to think that Devon had me fooled. If he broke into the office there was a good reason. And his dad? Why would he have set up a trust fund to donate a million dollars to the church's charities if he was going to steal—"

  She stopped herself. Sighed.

  "I wish sometimes I could hit a rewind button and take back some of the words that come out of my mouth. Will you pretend I didn't say anything about the trust fund?

  Devon would be furious at me if he knew I'd let that slip out."

  We nodded. But it was in the back of my mind. The same question that Samantha had begun to ask. If Ted Emmett was in such financial trouble, why had he been arranging to donate money to a trust fund? Why had he paid for our flights here to Charleston?

  Samantha jolted me out of my thoughts by snapping her fingers.

  "Hey," she said. "Did you tell me that the police had found the stolen museum pieces in the white Mercedes?"

  "Yup." This came from Mike.

  "Ted hasn't been driving it," Samantha said. "Devon has. Devon's own car is getting repaired. For the last week, he's been borrowing the Mercedes and Ted has been walking to work. If Ted stole the pieces, why would he have left them in the car that Devon was driving?"

  She stood up.

  "Does this mean that Devon really is the thief?" she asked.

  She began to cry.

  Chapter 17

  In a doorway at the corner of King Street and Broad, Mike suddenly reached out as if he w
ere catching a fly from the air. He moved his closed fist toward his mouth and pretended to eat the fly.

  "Healthy," Lisa said sarcastically. "You should consider becoming a vegetarian."

  "No thanks," Mike said. "Think of all the things that could wrong."

  Lisa gave him a puzzled look.

  "Dogs could bite you," he explained. "Horses could kick you. Animals are too dangerous. Then to try to work on them when they're injured or sick? No thanks."

  "Vegetarian, Mike," Lisa said. "Not veterinarian."

  "Whatever." He grinned. "Come on. I knew the difference. Really."

  Veterinarian. Vegetarian. I could tell he was bored if he was making those kinds of pathetic jokes.

  "Hang in there, Mike," I said. "Let's give this another half hour."

  Back at the Emmett mansion, Ralphy was working on the phone book to match names to accounts in the file from Thomas Stang. Here, we had already been waiting for an hour, watching the entrance to an old, stone-walled two- story building across the street. The other buildings up and down the street were just as ancient. Art stores. Old restaurants. Real-estate offices. And every ten minutes or so, another horse-drawn carriage went by, with the guy at the reins telling the tourists stories about old Charleston.

  "Half hour?" he answered. "Lisa, if you want to tell Ricky this is a silly idea, I'll agree with you."

  "Come on," I said before Lisa could agree. "What else can we do?"

  "Let's see," Mike said. "We're in a city we've never visited before. It has a giant aquarium. Horse-drawn carriage rides. Places to go fishing. Beaches about twenty minutes away. I don't know, pal. What else can we do besides stand in this doorway and wait for a stockbroker so we can follow him around town?"

  "Let your uncle get blamed for a crime he didn't do?"

  "You had to bring that up. Just when I had totally been able to get that out of my mind."

  "Right," I said, knowing that was all he could think of.

  I knew Mike's irritation level was rising for two reasons. He couldn't get his uncle's troubles out of his mind. And he hated doing nothing. Even if he had agreed it was one of the only options.

  "Let me go through this again, Mike. No one is telling us anything about the situation. Not your uncle Ted. He's still in jail and our meeting with him isn't until later today. His lawyer can't tell us anything because of the simple fact we still haven't met his lawyer and, oh yes, his lawyer is busy with all the charges against both your uncle and cousin. Devon's girlfriend can't tell us. She ran away without explaining why. And we don't want to call your mother again because it will get her even more worried and we don't have anything to tell her."

  Mike let out a deep breath. "But this waiting and waiting is—"

  "I know. Killing you. But Devon must have had a good reason for breaking into Stang's office and getting that list. And Stang was pretty upset when he asked for the disk. That list must mean something. Stang's got something to do with all of this."

  "It wouldn't be so bad if I thought waiting here would lead to something. But we don't even know if Stang has a back entrance. For all we know, he's already left somewhere in his car. And even if he does walk out the front, how do we know that's actually going to help?"

  "We agreed to take the chance that this might not help," Lisa pointed out. "Remember?"

  "How about I just go up there and see if he's still in his office?" Mike said. "I hate doing nothing."

  My turn to let out a deep breath. "If he's up to something, the last thing we want to do is let him know we're interested in him. Remember, your uncle Ted told us that every day they both walk to a restaurant for lunch. And it's nearly noon. So maybe ..."

  It was a silly idea. I quit talking and sat down and rested my head against my knees. I should have stayed back with Ralphy and tried to help him as he surfed the Net to find out more about the stock market.

  "Guys!" Lisa said.

  I looked up. She was pointing across the street at the entrance to the office. At a tall man in a tweed jacket, who bit on a Sherlock Holmes type of pipe, even though it wasn't lit. He'd entered the building about five minutes earlier.

  "We've just learned something very interesting," she said.

  "That I'm now very confused?" Mike said.

  "Knew it all along," Lisa told him. "But there's something else. That man with the pipe in his mouth?"

  Mike and I nodded.

  "When he went in, he seemed familiar," she continued. "And I've just figured out where I've seen him before. From the newspaper article that Ralphy pulled up on the Internet. He's George Reah. Director of the Civil War museum."

  "And this might mean ..."

  "Mike," I said, understanding why Lisa thought this was significant. "The police believe the theft was an inside job. Devon works at the museum. They believe Devon helped your uncle steal the pieces. But if Devon and your uncle are innocent, and if Stang has something to do with all of this—"

  "—now we have a connection between Stang and someone inside the museum," Lisa finished for me.

  "Just more questions, though," Mike said. "I know," I agreed with him. "And I've been thinking about this while we've been waiting. I believe we can call someone who could give us a lot of answers."

  Chapter 18

  The entrance to the South Carolina Aquarium overlooked the harbor. Inside, I knew from the brochure, were sharks in a huge aquarium, along with all sorts of other incredible sea life. Maybe an octopus. Lobsters. Cool stuff.

  But Mike and I weren't here to go inside.

  Instead, we waited near the entrance. To our right was a long wooden staircase that led down to the river's edge, where a steamboat waited to take tourists to Sumter Island.

  "See it?" I said to Mike, pointing at a smudge low on the river.

  "Huh? The seagull that looks like it's ready to dive-bomb an innocent tourist?"

  "No. Not the seagull. That island smack-dab in the middle of the water. The Ashley and Cooper Rivers meet just before it, then flow together out to the Atlantic. That island was in a perfect position to guard the river during the Civil War. See, without it, cannonballs fired from one shore would not have been able to reach the other shore and vice versa. But with the island, cannons could fire in either direction and reach both shores. That meant no ship could pass by on either side unless the soldiers on the island let them."

  "Good," Mike said. I doubted he'd pass the test if I asked him what I'd just told him. "Where's the redhead?"

  "And Fort Sumter is also famous because it's where the first shot was fired to start the Civil War."

  "You know I hate waiting," he said. "She's going to come here, right?"

  "But they didn't use cannonballs," I continued. "Instead, they cut up pieces of elephants and shoved them down the cannons."

  "You really think this is going to work, huh." Mike looked in all directions, squinting against the sun.

  "And what was really cool," I said, "was that the heat of the exploding gunpowder actually cooked the pieces of elephant. So that when the chunks landed here in Charleston, they were hard enough to do some major damage."

  Mike looked at his watch. "And how do you know we can trust her?"

  "But that wasn't such a bad thing. At least for the people in Charleston who didn't get hit by pieces of cooked elephant. Because the survivors had something to eat. Many of them actually began to hope the soldiers would fire potatoes at them, too, because after a while they would get tired of just having meat."

  Mike tapped one of his feet against the wood beneath us. He leaned against the railing, letting the slight breeze ruffle his hair. "Think of it. What Ralphy found out about Tom Stang was amazing. Maybe we should just take it to the police instead."

  Mike hadn't heard a single thing I'd told him about the elephants. So I gave up and answered his comment.

  "The police believe they have a guilty man. Ted Emmett has confessed. From their point of view, what more do they need?"

  "I know, I know," Mik
e said. "It's just that you saw how that woman was."

  "See," I corrected.

  "Huh?"

  "She's behind you, coming our way."

  Mike turned.

  It was the redheaded reporter who had earlier chased Devon Emmett into the mansion. Who had run away at the sound of us barking. And had slipped and fallen on the wet grass.

  Of course, we weren't going to let her know that we had seen all of that.

  We waved. We knew who she was, but she didn't know us. Except through the telephone conversation through which I'd arranged this meeting.

  "Hello," we both said when she reached us.

  "You guys wanted this meeting?" she said, impatience in her voice. "You're just kids."

  "Doesn't mean what we know can't help you." Mike grinned. "You do want a great news story about my uncle Ted Emmett, don't you?"

  "Your uncle?" she said, suddenly interested.

  Mike nodded.

  "Let me repeat, nephew or not, you're just kids. You promised me something good over the telephone. I don't want to find out I'm wasting my time."

  "We'll give you as much information as we can," Mike said. "But we want to trade for whatever information you can give us."

  "Give me one good reason why," she demanded.

  "Because if my uncle is innocent, won't that make a great news story? And won't it be good for you if you're the one to break it?"

  "Maybe..." She frowned. "But how do I know you have any information to trade?"

  "Remember when you were in the van outside the Emmett mansion and you got the call that said Ted Emmett had just confessed?" I asked.

  She nodded. I didn't think it was a good time to mention her wig and how it had fallen off just before the call.

  "I'll bet I can tell you who it was," I continued.

  "What makes you think I even know?"

  "Caller ID on your cell phone. Or some other way. I don't think a news journalist as good as you would be satisfied until you did find out."

  "All right, then, so I know. What about it?"

  "If I guess right, will you take us seriously?"

  She smiled.

  "One guess," I said. "Thomas Stang."