The Billionaire's Curse

by Richard Newsome

  From the hallway came the chime of a grandfather clock.

  “Goodness me, the time,” Mrs. Rutherford said. “Master Gerald, Mr. Prisk sent some clothes down from London seeing as yours are being cleaned after the fire. Allow me to show you to your room so you can change.”

  Twenty minutes later Gerald wandered down the crimson carpet of the main staircase and found Sam and Ruby in one of the enormous drawing rooms, playing a game of chess on an antique table.

  Sam took one look at Gerald and burst out laughing.

  Ruby covered her mouth with her hands.

  “I guess Mr. Prisk picked these himself,” Gerald said. He stood there with his arms outstretched, wearing a gray suit identical to the one worn by the lawyer, right down to the pressed white handkerchief in the jacket pocket, though Gerald did still have his runners on.

  Ruby barely snuffed out a snicker. “I think we might take you shopping tomorrow.”

  “Yes,” Gerald said. “That would be good. There’s a wardrobe full of these things up there.”

  They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the house and its surroundings. The swimming pool was still too cold, but the grass tennis court, set well away from the house and its servants, was the perfect place to while away a few hours.

  Sam found some equipment at the back of a pavilion next to the court and soon the sound of tennis balls rebounding off strings echoed across the lawns.

  Gerald discarded the jacket and rolled up his sleeves, but he still looked like someone from the 1920s as he dashed across the turf in his long pants, racket in hand. Sam and Ruby were on one side of the net taking great pleasure in running Gerald hard on the other.

  “D’you reckon your uncle could be like Fry?” Sam grunted as he whacked a backhand over the net. “Y’know, killing Geraldine to get her money?”

  “Maybe,” Gerald said, flicking a high lob over Ruby’s head. “He was really angry when he only got cash. But what about the diamond?”

  “Maybe we’ve got it wrong,” Ruby said, hitting the ball into the net. “Maybe the person who stole the diamond had nothing to do with Geraldine’s death. Maybe there were two separate crimes.”

  Gerald joined Ruby by the net post.

  “Let me get this straight. Even though Geraldine said in her note that she feared for her life because of the diamond, you’re saying whoever killed her may not be connected with the diamond theft at all?”

  “It’s possible,” Ruby said. “Think about it—the major has all but admitted that he stole the diamond. Remember what the professor said? It makes no sense for someone to nick the gem, then go and murder Geraldine. Maybe whoever killed Geraldine was only after her money. Her estate is worth two hundred of those diamonds.”

  “So where does the thin man fit in?” Sam asked, picking up a tennis ball. “He pretty much admitted killing Geraldine. Doesn’t sound like he’s family, hoping to inherit something.”

  “No,” Gerald agreed. “But maybe he was hired by one of the family—or one of the servants.”

  Before they could give the problem any more thought a low dong rang out from the house.

  Gerald checked his watch.

  “Six o’clock. I guess that’s dinner.”

  Mrs. Rutherford oversaw the running of the evening meal in the formal dining room. Much to Gerald’s disappointment—and the Valentine twins’ endless amusement—the serving was performed by Mr. Fry.

  “Turkey.”

  “Excuse me?” Gerald said in surprise.

  Fry’s face was blank.

  “Would sir like some turkey this evening?”

  Gerald grunted a yes and Fry flopped some slabs of ivory-colored meat onto his plate among the roast vegetables.

  “Thanks,” Gerald mumbled.

  “Moron,” Fry said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Would sir like some more on his plate? Or does he have sufficient?”

  Gerald eyed Fry closely but the butler’s face gave nothing away. Across the table Sam snuffled in his napkin.

  “You’ve made a great friend there,” Ruby giggled after Fry returned to the kitchen.

  “Yeah, isn’t he something?” Gerald glanced over his shoulder to make sure Mrs. Rutherford was out of earshot. She was busying herself at the buffet with a number of large crystal bowls containing desserts. “Do you wanna sneak over to Beaconsfield tonight? It’d be good to see what it’s like before the major’s party at the weekend.”

  Ruby leaned in. “Mr. Prisk said it was a forty-minute walk away,” she whispered. “How are we supposed to find it in the dark?”

  Then, to their horror, Sam called out, “Excuse me, Mrs. Rutherford. Can you tell us where Beaconsfield is, please?”

  “Sam,” Ruby whispered, her eyes bulging. “What are you doing, you idiot?”

  “When in doubt, ask,” Sam said to his sister before turning back to the housekeeper. “We’re trying to get the lay of the land around here. You know, where town is, some of the other farms in the area. Mr. Prisk mentioned there’s a place called Beaconsfield close by.”

  Mrs. Rutherford pushed a trolley laden with desserts across to the table.

  “Yes, Master Sam. Beaconsfield is quite close. If you go down past the tennis court, across the lower meadow and over the rise, you’ll find our lower boundary with Beaconsfield. Be quite a pleasant walk on a night like this.”

  Mrs. Rutherford doled fruit and custard into bowls, humming to herself.

  “Um, Mrs. Rutherford,” Gerald ventured, taken aback by her mention of a nighttime stroll. “Do you know anything about a party there this weekend?”

  “Their annual midsummer’s bash,” she said in a matter-of-fact kind of way, placing the bowls on the table. “It’ll be the same as every year, I expect. A lot of flash folk come down from London, get rolling drunk on Major Pilkington’s wine, then go ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at the fireworks at midnight. Frightens every cow in the district, it does—and it’s not just the fireworks.”

  Gerald dipped his spoon into a large serving of trifle and took a mouthful. Mrs. Rutherford was particularly helpful.

  “So what’s the major like?” Gerald asked.

  “Major Pilkington? Oh, he and his mother have lived there forever, it seems. Mr. Dorian was always after the major’s mother to sell the place to him, but she wouldn’t budge. A very proud woman is Mrs. Pilkington. Though word in the town is that they could do with the funds, beggin’ your pardon for sayin’ so.”

  Ruby looked up from her damson-and-treacle pudding.

  “What do you mean, Mrs. Rutherford?”

  “Oh, you talk to the butcher and the grocer and you hear about bills being paid very late, if at all—that type of thing. I hear the place has become quite run down. Not what it used to be.”

  “Mrs. Rutherford?” Gerald said, not sure if he should press his luck.

  “Yes, Master Gerald?”

  “Do you know if there’s any place around here called the peak of eternal light?”

  Mrs. Rutherford considered the question.

  “I know every hill and dale in this district as if they were me own children, Master Gerald, and I don’t believe I have ever heard mention of such a place.”

  Gerald didn’t ask any more questions but he had the distinct feeling Ruby was about to burst—she was shoveling food into her mouth in a rush to finish.

  As they scoffed the last of the meal, Gerald felt a looming presence at his elbow.

  “Nuts.”

  Mr. Fry plopped a silver tray in front of Gerald, sending half a dozen walnuts rolling across the linen tablecloth, then sulked off back to the kitchen.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Gerald skirted the hedges to keep out of sight of the house on his way to the tennis pavilion, his backpack bouncing on his shoulders. It was only three days before Midsummer’s Eve, and the moon on the horizon was almost full. Sam and Ruby were already at the tennis court, discussing what had happened at dinner.

  “Don’t you s
ee?” Ruby was saying, “The major and his mother are hard up at the moment. You heard Mrs. Rutherford—the unpaid bills, the house needing repairs—they’re desperate for cash.”

  “Yeah, so what?” Sam said. “That doesn’t make the major a killer.”

  Ruby groaned.

  “Oh, don’t be so thick. The major stole the diamond so he can sell it. It’s worth one hundred million pounds, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember,” Sam said. “I also remember the inspector saying it would be impossible to sell because it’s so famous. Had you forgotten that?” He screwed up his face at his sister. “What do you think, Gerald?”

  The sound of a dog barking echoed across the hills.

  “I think I don’t want to get into any family arguments. Come on, let’s go.”

  Gerald hoisted his battered backpack and led the way down the hill toward the lower meadow. He had a bottle of water and some flashlights that he’d found in the pantry, but it didn’t look like they’d be needed. The moon cast a ghostly hue over the landscape. They walked near a line of chestnut trees that ran down one side of the fields, making good progress through the ankle-high grass.

  After a while, Sam prompted Gerald again. “You think the major is the killer?”

  “No,” Gerald replied. “I think the thin man killed Geraldine. But I think he was acting on someone’s orders. And I don’t think that someone is the major. There’s something else going on here.”

  “Well, if you think the major’s innocent, why are we doing a midnight dash over to his place?” Sam asked.

  Ruby interrupted before Gerald could speak. “Oh, don’t be so gullible, it’s because of the diamond box. The thin man is after the casket and so is the major. It’s supposed to be hidden on this peak of eternal light, which the major reckons is on his property. Sam, you are so dim sometimes.”

  Sam stopped walking.

  “You don’t have to be nasty,” he said.

  “What?” Ruby pulled up and turned to face her brother.

  “Just because I’m not thinking the exact same thing as you doesn’t mean I’m stupid or gullible,” Sam said.

  Ruby took a breath. “I’m sorry, Sam,” she said. “I get ahead of myself sometimes. I’m sorry if I’ve been mean to you.” She walked back and took hold of his hands and squeezed. “I’ll try to do better, okay?”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “Good. Now, an interesting thing about the word gullible,” Ruby said as they continued up the grassy slope. “It’s the only word that’s not in the dictionary.”

  “Really?” said Sam.

  Gerald tried to catch Ruby’s eye, but she had suddenly found the night sky intensely interesting.

  At the top of the rise they stopped. They were looking into a small valley bathed in silver moonlight. On the far side they could make out a large house, fingers of smoke curling up into the night sky from the chimneys. A clockface in a tower at one end of the building glowed a faint amber. They could just hear the chimes marking midnight. But most striking of all was not the house or the expanse of grounds or orchards around it, but the sight of an enormous conical hill in the distance. On the top of the hill, clear against the night sky, a lone tower stood sentinel over the valley.

  “What do you make of that?” Sam whispered.

  “Looks a bit like a lighthouse, doesn’t it?” Gerald replied.

  “Bit far inland for that, don’t you think?” Ruby said. “And it’s missing something if it’s a lighthouse.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A light.”

  Gerald shouldered his pack and they set off into the valley. After twenty minutes of clambering over stiles and dodging cows and cowpats, they emerged out of some woods into a rose garden. A stone stairway at the far end led up to a large terrace. An enormous house loomed over them.

  “You’re kidding,” Gerald whispered as he gazed up at the building. “It looks like Dracula’s wedding cake.”

  The house at Beaconsfield was indeed a bizarre sight. It stood three stories tall and looked like it had been transplanted direct from Transylvania.

  Ivy grew thick up the lower sections of the gray stone walls, twisting around ancient columns and tangling through moss-coated archways. The house was topped with spires, gothic turrets, and chimneys that probed the sky. Gargoyles clung to the ledges of the upper floors, and two enormous bats were sculpted into the walls, their mouths contorted in silent screams. An overwhelming sense of decay enshrouded the place. The pitched roof of what appeared to be a large chapel could be seen behind one wing of the house. At the other end of the building stood the clock tower, the amber eye of the clockface staring down at them. Sam tugged at Gerald’s sleeve and pointed to the top of the tower.

  “Look familiar?”

  Gerald looked up. Atop the tower, clear in the moonlight, was a large weathervane. Not the traditional rooster, but a man with a bow and arrow—the same archer that stood guard at the gates of Avonleigh.

  “What’s that doing there?” Gerald said.

  A breeze rustled the leaves of the rosebushes behind them. The archer didn’t move, his arrow remained pointing resolutely west.

  “This place is creep central.” Ruby shivered. “Hell of a place for a party, don’t you—”

  A light flickered on in one of the rooms above the terrace and spilled onto the expanse of tiles.

  Ruby and Gerald stopped. Sam dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to the base of the stairs.

  “Sam,” Ruby whispered.

  Her brother glanced back, then scurried up the stairs, stopping at the top to hide behind a large pot.

  Ruby turned to Gerald. “What’s he doing?”

  Gerald shrugged, not taking his eyes off Sam. At the top of the stairs Sam signaled for them to follow. Then he disappeared onto the terrace.

  “I take it back,” Ruby fumed. “He is an idiot. Come on, before he gets into trouble.”

  They hurried up the stairs, ducked behind the large pot, and peered out from either side. The terrace was lit by the moon and the light shining through glass doors about twenty yards away. Gerald could see Major Pilkington inside, standing behind a desk at one end of a long room. At the other end, sitting in an armchair, was an elderly woman.

  “His mother?” Gerald whispered.

  Ruby nodded. “Where’s Sam?”

  Gerald scanned the terrace and finally spotted Sam, lying on his stomach behind a line of shrubs just a few feet from the major. He was resting his chin in his hands and idly waggling his feet in the air.

  “He won’t die from stress, will he?” Gerald whispered to Ruby.

  Ruby muttered, “Come on, then.”

  They crept onto the terrace and scuttled across to join Sam, who looked up as they slid in beside him.

  “What took you so—”

  Ruby pressed her index finger to Sam’s lips.

  The sound of voices drifted onto the terrace through an open window above the glass doors.

  “Think, Mother. You’ve lived here all your life. Surely you’ve heard of it.” The major’s voice rang out into the night.

  Gerald had to strain to hear the reply.

  “I’ve tried, dear. But it’s no use. It doesn’t sound familiar at all.”

  “Take another look at the map, then. The peak of eternal light.”

  Gerald motioned for the others to stay still and he poked his head out of the shrubbery. He could make out the major and his mother studying a large piece of paper on the desk.

  “It’s no use, Horatio. It doesn’t ring any bells.”

  The major exhaled. “We’ve only got three days. It must be here. It has to be here.”

  “I’m tired, Horatio, and I’m going to bed. There’s still a lot to organize for the party.”

  “Don’t you understand? If I don’t find this box there won’t be any more parties. There won’t be any more anything.”

  The major shook his head and followed his mother out of the room, switching
off the light as he closed the door.

  The terrace was silent for a few minutes as the Valentines and Gerald waited. Light filled a window on the floor above and then it too was extinguished. From the clock tower came a single resonating bong—one o’clock.

  Gerald, Ruby, and Sam crept across to the French doors.

  Sam tried the handle but the door was locked. He glanced up at the window above the door. It was still open.

  He turned to Ruby. “Think you can do it?” he asked.

  Ruby studied the opening. It was about twelve feet off the ground.

  “Yep.” She nodded. “No problem.”

  Gerald blinked. “How are you going to climb up there? It’s glass—there are no footholds.”

  Ruby winked at him. She took Sam by the shoulders and positioned him under the window with his back to the door.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  Sam bent his knees, cupped his hands in front of him and nodded. “Yep, ready.”

  Ruby walked halfway across the terrace, turned, and ran straight at her brother. A few paces away she leaped into the air, landing one foot hard into the stirrup of Sam’s hands, the other onto his shoulder and then with her arms outstretched and palms together over her head she launched herself up and through the open window. Her feet just cleared the sill as she tucked into a ball and tumbled smoothly onto the rug inside the major’s study. Seconds later she stood at the open French doors, a broad grin on her face.

  “School gymnastics champion, three years in a row!” she puffed.

  Sam and Gerald hurried inside and shut the doors behind them.

  “That was awesome!” Gerald breathed.

  “Well, I find chess boring,” Ruby said.

  Gerald handed them each a flashlight from his backpack.

  They crossed to the desk and found the map still unrolled. Three flashlights shone down to show a detailed chart of Beaconsfield and its surroundings. Gerald traced his finger across the paper.

  “Here’s the boundary with Avonleigh, and this is where we came to get here. And this must be that hill we saw, the one with the tower on it.”

  Sam peered closer.

  “Do you think that could be where the peak is?” he asked.