And crouched under the sideboard, the Borgia dagger still in her hand, was Tessa, her face white with shock.
Frank, Joe, and Dr. Lansdale knelt down beside her. "Did the statue hit you?" Joe asked, his voice edged with concern.
Ruppenthal stood gaping over the statue. "Twenty-three hundred years old ..." he murmured as tears formed in the corners of his eyes.
Tessa was shaking with fright. She looked past Joe and saw Frank. With a choked sob, she let go of the dagger and stood up and threw her arms around him. "Oh, Frank, I was almost killed!"
The crowd started to murmur. Smothered by Tessa's embrace, Frank said, "Well, you seem to be okay. Why don't you just — uh, sit back and relax a little." As Tessa let go, Frank looked around uncomfortably.
"Mind if someone tells me what's going on here?" a voice said from above.
Frank looked up to see Harley towering over him. This time the glittery smile was gone, replaced by tightly pursed lips.
"Looks to me like an accident," Frank replied. "I — I can't figure it out, Harley," Tessa said, "There was a blackout, and someone must have knocked over the Roman statue — "
"Greek!" Ruppenthal cried, now sitting on the floor with his head in his hands.
Harley knelt down and helped Tessa over to a sofa, while Joe quietly picked up the dagger and put it back in the glass case, which was mercifully spared.
Dr. Lansdale, who had disappeared, returned with a dampened towel. She sat next to Tessa and put it on her forehead. All around them, guests from the party gathered.
Holding Tessa's hand, Dr. Lansdale smiled and said, "You know, if I were a superstitious person, I'd think this incident was connected to that silly Borgia curse." She looked at the concerned faces around her and chuckled. "And I see I'm not the only one who's thought of it."
Tessa swallowed nervously. Beads of sweat collected on her brow. "What do you know about the curse, Aunt Harriet?"
"Dear child, I really don't think you ought to worry about it."
"Oh, please," Tessa said. "Maybe if I hear how silly it is, I won't worry."
Dr. Lansdale sighed. "Well, if you insist." She sat back and fell silent, as if trying to remember the details. The guests all gathered closer around her.
"I must say it's a rather gruesome tale. The Borgias were one of the wealthiest and most influential families in Italy around the turn of the sixteenth century—and there were bound to be a few black sheep among them." She nodded slowly. "Well, the history books don't record it, but legend says that the worst one, the one whose name caused people to shake with fear, was Armando Borgia. He was a nephew of the duke, and he had an interesting collection in his basement — a collection of bodies."
Joe noticed a shudder run through Tessa. Dr. Lansdale placed her hand on Tessa's and said, "Oh, honey, you look petrified. I didn't mean for this silly old wives' tale to scare you. I'll stop."
"No, go on!" Tessa pleaded. "Maybe if I hear about it, it won't seem so scary."
Joe could see the tension on Tessa's face. He knew it would only be worse if Dr. Lansdale continued. "Maybe you'd better not," he said into her ear.
"It's all right, Joe," Dr. Lansdale answered. "I understand your concern, but sometimes this is the best treatment for fear." She turned back to Tessa. "Now then, this Armando Borgia was supposedly the cruelest landowner in Italy. He purposely charged rents that were outrageous in order to keep the peasants weak and overworked. They wouldn't be able to rebel then. He married several women, only to cast each wife into the street when he tired of her—including Marisol Allegra — a breathtaking Spanish-Italian beauty by all accounts, of noble blood, young, trusting — "
"Tell me about the dagger, Aunt Harriet," Tessa said, shaking.
"Yes, of course. You see, Arnando rarely left his palace and gardens—but when he did one day, he was shocked to see the streets full of dirty, homeless beggars. Of course, he was the one who had forced them to live like that because they couldn't afford his rents. But to Armando, they were nothing more than human garbage - garbage to be gotten rid of."
"So he killed them?" Tessa asked.
"One by one," Dr. Lansdale said, "he invited the beggars into the palace. He allowed them to wash up and eat until they could hold no more. Most were tearful with gratitude—and then they' were invited to see the wine cellar.
"They never came back up.
"It is said that Armando disposed of each of them with one quick plunge of his jeweled dagger to the victim's heart. The bodies were stacked neatly in the cellar and left there until the end of the week, when they were buried in a single pauper's grave."
Out of the corner of his eye, Frank noticed the society columnist furiously taking notes, "No one caught on," Dr. Lansdale said. "All people noticed was that the streets were becoming free of beggars."
Suddenly Dr. Lansdale's voice became softer. All of the guests leaned closer to hear.
"One night, as Armando was half-asleep, his door was pushed open. Thinking it was a servant, he just grumbled and turned over.
"But it wasn't a servant. One of his victims had been lying in the cellar — the knife had just missed her heart—alive. With her last ounce of strength, she had dragged herself up to Armando's bedroom, and found the blood-stained dagger.
"Well, that's ridiculous," Tessa said. "How could she have known where to go? ..." Tessa cut herself off as she realized the answer.
"That's right, Tessa," Dr. Lansdale said. "The beggar woman was Marisol, one of Armando's wives. Not even Armando had recognized her, so changed was she after having been forced into the street. Poverty and wretchedness had driven her to insanity.
"With the life flowing out of her, Marisol flung open the bedroom shutters, letting in the light of the full moon. And as she raised the dagger over Armando's bed, she screamed his name so loud they say it shattered the windows in the room." By now the parlor had become so quiet, Frank could hear the beating of his own heart. "When a servant found them both slumped on the bed, Armando's eyes were wide with the horror of recognition — and the letter B had been drawn on his forehead in blood. "From that day on, the legend goes, whoever takes possession of the dagger dies mysteriously within four months of having touched it."
Dr. Landsdale shrugged her shoulders and gave a small laugh. "Well, aren't you all grim! Don't you see how absurd the story is? I mean, after all, the museum has had this dagger for decades, and no one has died mysteriously — isn't that so, Mr. Ruppenthal?"
Ruppenthal loosened his collar and looked at the floor. "Well — uh, to tell you the truth, no one ever dared touch it while it was at the museum."
Tessa moved to get off the couch, but swayed dangerously. "Aunt Harriet, would you please show the guests out? I think I'd better stay here," she said.
"Of course, sweetheart. But please don't take this thing so seriously. I hope I haven't made natters worse."
"We'll stay awhile, help with things," Joe said eagerly.
Frank narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Thanks a lot, pal," he murmured.
The first guest to go was Ruppenthal, who stormed off in anger. Dr. Lansdale went to the front door and said goodbye to everyone quietly as they left the mansion.
Frank and Joe helped the hired help carry dishes to the kitchen for a half hour, and when they were done, Tessa was still on the couch, fast asleep. They tiptoed out the front door and onto the porch. "Were you hoping to be hired as butler or something?" Frank asked.
But Joe was deep in thought. "That was the weirdest story I ever heard," he said.
"Well, something about it smells a little funny to me."
"Like the fact that everything was normal before Ruppenthal got there?"
"Yes. And also how Dr. Lansdale wouldn't stop telling that crazy story, even when she knew Tessa was scared out of her wits."
"Well, I tried to get her to stop — " Joe cut himself short, his eyes focused beyond the side of the house.
"What is it, Joe?"
"Shh. The servants' cottage!"
He was right. As they carefully peered around the side of the house, they froze.
Inches from their faces was the muzzle of a silver-plated revolver.
"Gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure of our meeting?" Stepping out of the shadows, his finger poised over the trigger of the gun, was Edwin Squinder.
Chapter 5
"I wouldn't recommend pulling that trigger," Joe said calmly, his hands in the air.
"Spoken bravely," Squinder said. "Now let me give you my recommendation. You had better not say a word to Tess — "
"Who's there?" Tessa's voice called out from above the stairs.
Frank and Joe looked up to the tops of their raised hands. They heard a door open, then Tessa's face appeared over them, peering down from the porch. "What in heaven's — Edwin, put down the gun!"
"Never!" Squinder said. "Never again shall be a slave to your every whim!"
Harley appeared beside Tessa at the top of the stairs. He rolled his eyes when he saw Squinder "Ease up, Edwin," he said.
"And as for your snide boyfriend—" Squinder continued.
"We all know how you feel, Edwin," Tessa said patiently. She walked down the stone steps With her hand out. "Now will you give me that before I have you arrested for trespassing and stealing?"
"Stealing?" Squinder answered. "Your father gave me this gun, and I was foolish enough to leave it here when I was forced off the premises. I only came back here to reclaim what is rightfully mine!" He pointed the revolver at his head. "The only person this gun was meant to hurt is myself. And this time I will not be foiled in my attempt — "
"Well, it may help if you buy some bullets," Tessa said. "First of all, my father lent you that gun, to scare away robbers — it was never loaded. Second, what was once my father's is now mine. Third, you're already on thin ice with the police after this afternoon. So," — she reached out, with her palm up — "if you please?"
Squinder's eyes darted from side to side.
"Give it to her and go home, Edwin," Harley said, joining them at the foot of the stairs. "You need some rest."
Finally Squinder lowered the revolver. "Very well," he said, his voice trembling, "I shall return to the miserable little flat I have been calling a home — and lie awake thinking of other ways to escape the bitter life to which I have been loomed!"
With a grand gesture, he placed the revolver in Tessa's hand and strode away.
As Squinder disappeared down the driveway, Joe said to Tessa, "Will you be all right here alone? We could — "
"She won't be alone," Harley snapped. "Dr. Lansdale and I will stay here tonight. Tomorrow we'll make sure she spends the day relaxing at the club. Tessa will be well taken care of, thank you."
"Okay, fine," Frank said, pulling his brother away from the house. "Good night, Tessa. Thanks for inviting us."
"My pleasure," Tessa called back. "Be sure to come by again, anytime!"
Frank and Joe climbed into the van. 'Do you think she really meant that, about coming by anytime?" Joe asked as he started the engine.
"Haven't you had enough of her and her snooty friends, Joe? She's definitely not your type."
"That's not what I mean! I think we have a case here. It's obvious someone has it in for Tessa."
Frank nodded thoughtfully as the van rolled down the driveway. "You're right. And I'd put Squinder high on the list of suspects. I don't think he's as flaky as he lets on."
"Right. I mean, he's probably the only person who knows where to find the fuse box in order to sTall the lights—and I thought his alibi about reclaiming the gun was pretty lame."
"There's only one problem," Frank said. "There must have been two people — one to turn off the lights and the other to push the statue. And I have an idea who the other one is — "
They looked at each other and said at the same time, "Ruppenthal!"
As they drove back to their parents' house, Frank and Joe tossed around a couple of questions: Would Ruppenthal really have destroyed a valuable work of art just to scare Tessa? And if Squinder were to blame, why didn't he flee immediately after the incident?
There were far more questions than answers. And although they wouldn't admit it to each other, one thought was nagging at both of them: Maybe it was useless even to wonder. Maybe the curse of the Borgia dagger wasn't an old wives' tale after all.
***
"I suppose I'll forgive you, Frank," Callie said with a smile. "But for a bright guy, you can be pretty thoughtless sometimes!"
"Guilty as charged," Frank replied. "But I'm changing!" He jumped out of his chair and ran over to his parents' refrigerator. "Can I get you some fruit juice, some leftover ham?"
Callie laughed. "There's enough ham in this room already!"
Frank sat back down at the kitchen table. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "I may have done a thoughtless thing last night, but you have to admit we stumbled into an interesting case."
"Okay, I admit it! From what you've said, both Squinder and Ruppenthal seem pretty suspicious to me. And I'm not so sure that old woman doctor is as innocent as she sounds."
"With someone like Tessa, you never know how many people might have a grudge against her."
"Well, to be honest, Frank, I really think you should keep your distance. I mean, no one has asked you to do anything, after all. And i have a feeling that hanging around Tessa Carpenter will bring you nothing but trouble." "Maybe ..." Frank said absentmindedly. Just then Joe came into the kitchen. "Oh, hi, Callie! You ready to hit the road, Frank?"
"I think so. Callie just stopped by we were having a talk." "Where are you guys going?" Callie asked. Frank and Joe exchanged glances. "Um, well ... " Frank said, adjusting his collar. "We thought we'd go to the museum — "
Callie's eyes narrowed. She folded her arms. "I see," she said. "Anything there in particular you wanted to see? Or should I say, anyone?"
Both Frank and Joe started to speak at once, but Callie cut them off.
"I know, you don't want to mention any names, but the initials are Albert Ruppenthal's, right? You'd rather spend time with this Tessa Carpenter case than with me!" "That's not it, Callie, really—" Frank said. Callie smiled. "I know. I'm just giving you heat. I know you won't be satisfied unless you 'tow up this hunch."
Frank grinned. "I'll make it up to you — why don't we see a movie this evening? Something "u want to see!"
"Great." As Joe scooted out the door, Callie grabbed Frank's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I do feel better after our talk," she whispered. "Thanks."
"They all went out the front door, Callie to her car and the brothers to the waiting van.
The Hardys smiled and waved to Callie as she drove away.
"I'm surprised she didn't want to help out," Joe said as soon as Callie was out of sight. Frank grinned and shook his head. "Not this case. I have a feeling Callie's not too concerned about whatever happens to Tessa."
"I guess you're right," Joe said. He put the van in gear. "Next stop, Bayport Museum."
As they approached the museum, the first thing they noticed was that the parking lot was almost totally empty.
"It's open on Sundays, isn't it?" Joe asked. "Sure is," answered Frank as Joe pulled into a spot. He looked at his watch. "Eleven-thirty, should be peak business time."
They got out of the van and walked inside. After paying their donations, they went into the main exhibit room.
Immediately, they realized why Ruppenthal had become so upset. Where large paintings had once crowded the walls, there were now rectangles that were still painted the original colors - beige. All around these spots the walls had faded to a lighter shade. Glass exhibit cases were half-empt
y, and a museum guard slept in a chair in the corner.
"It's like a tomb in here," Joe whispered. "I guess word travels fast," Frank mused. "Looks like the Carpenter Collection really was the backbone of this place.'
They both turned when they heard the echo of footsteps in the hallway behind them.
"You can go home, Mr. Harris!" a familiar voice called out. The guard in the corner woke up with a start. "It doesn't look too hopeful. I think I'll close up till — "
Albert Ruppenthal cut himself short as he entered the room. "Well, well, a couple of paying visitors," he said. "Enough income to pay for today's electric bill, perhaps. Or have you been sent by your girlfriend to bring me news of more destroyed artwork?"
"We felt very bad about the statue, Mr. Ruppenthal," Frank said, shaking his head. "Actually, we wondered if we could ask you a few questions about it."
Ruppenthal fell silent for a few moments. His eyes moved from Frank to Joe and back again, as if sizing them up, trying to decide something. Finally he said, "All right, let's talk. I have a few questions for you, too."
Together they walked down the hall and through a door that said Authorized Persons only. Inside the door was a large office with six desks. Ruppenthal led Frank and Joe to the other end of the office, where a glass door led several private offices.
Ushering the brothers into his private office, Ruppenthal immediately closed the door and drew the blinds over the windows.
"Have a seat. Now, I feel funny about doing this, but it seems to me you two are very close to Tessa Carpenter."
"Well, I don't know if close is — " Joe began to say.
"Yes, we are," Frank butted in. "I'm Frank Hardy and this is my brother Joe. We were schoolmates with Tessa at school."
Joe gave his brother a puzzled look. "Fine, fine," Ruppenthal said, sounding a bit distracted. "I noticed, too, that she seems to depend on you an awful lot, Frank. Softens up a bit when you're around — "
Frank shrugged his shoulders and smiled modestly.
Ruppenthal leaned over his desk, glaring at Frank and Joe. "I'll give it to you straight. This museum is in danger of folding. If we don't have the artwork, people won't come. If we don't have the people, companies and agencies will refuse to fund us. But the main thing is, what Tessa is doing is illegal."
The Borgia Dagger Page 3
