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Being friends with Don Hough has its adventures. This is the first one in which I wrote as part of it.
Flip-flop, flip-flop sounded the windshield wipers as they beat back the rain. Accompanying the beat, an occasional clap of
thunder roared in the background. In the dark, drenched, night, leaves fell in protest as they were bombed out of their trees.
"Don, when are we going to get there?" Mom asked.
"Mom, you know what kind of night this is," I answered.
"Yes, but I do not want to be late. If I could get this Jonathan Harris as a client -- well, you know"
"Why does this Jonathan Harris need a lawyer? Is he contesting a contract?" I inquired.
"Yes, but it is a will, and he needs help. It seems his nephew, Martin Bauer, has mysteriously become the benefactor of a
will Bauer's grandfather, Harris' father-in-law, William Roter, left. Bauer became owner of nine-tenths of the entire estate.
However, the will can be contested, which is why he needs me."
"Yes," Don agreed. "But is it contestable that the gain outweighs the costs?"
"Quite so. Bauer may be greedy, but he had too much influence on Roter before he died. Roter was suffering from dementia."
The words were still in the air when Mom shouted, "Look out for that truck!"
A red Chevrolet pickup zipped alongside our van and appeared to attempt to force us off the road
Don tried fighting it off, forcing the truck back to the other side of the road. Three more times failed to force us off the
road. In the distance, two bright lights appeared, headed straight for the truck on the narrow road. Instantly, the truck
accelerated and pushed in front of us. I mentally read the license, 237-4972. Before the approaching vehicle reached us, the
truck turned off a side road into the woods as mysteriously as it had appeared.
"Let's follow it!" Don exclaimed.
"No," retorted Mom. "It's too far away and hidden."
"I have a feeling that we're going to have another case in our noses," I prophesied.
"Never mind, we're here, " Don interrupted. "There's the house."
Silhouetted against the lightning was a huge castle with five stories. Its blue exterior showed a green turquoise roof and
a tower extending on the one side. It saw upon a hill about fifty meters high which was covered with grass, weeds, and naked
trees scattered at intervals.
"What's behind the house?" I asked casually.
"A graveyard the Roter family owns. I watched the old man buried there," Mom informed us.
"Burials -- I hate burials," sighed Don. "They re too depressing."
"Especially with prices today," I commented.
Our cobalt blue van nosed through the parking lot and found a place next to a black hearse.
"It's Martin Bauer's." Mom explained. "He keeps his musical paraphernalia in it."
We scampered out of the van, and amid rainshades we splashed up the darkened steps toward the mansion. We were still shaking
out our umbrellas when the butler answered the door.
"Ms. Ruth Król, son George, and Donald Hough," Mom told Jiggs, producing the invitations.
"Ah, yes, Ms. Król, come right in with your party," the butler replied obsequiously.
Jiggs led us to the end of a long hall where a maid relieved us of our raincoats and rainshades. We approached a grand, oblong
ballroom, about 25 by 50 meters, and a overdeck five meters above the floor. The room shone white, duplicate square indentations
rising a meter above the floor broke the color. A party of about fifty bavarded around us.
Mom picked out Harris from the crowd and introduced us. With Harris was Paula Demeo and her father Daniel. We had met before
in a similar case where my mother and her father had joined to investigate a conspiracy in Japan.
"If it isn't Paula Demeo. What are you doing here?" Don recognized her from that case.
"I guess we're here for the same reason. Mister Harris and his will problem. He called Dad in to investigate strange acts
of sabotage."
"Sabotage?" Dona and I repeated together.
"Yes, it seems that last night someone busted a water pipe in the basement, and it almost destroyed the safe in the cellar
and its contents."
"Do you have any idea who might be trying to bankrupt you, Mister Harris?" Mom questioned.
"Yes, I suspect more than my nephew, I also suspect --"
Instant blackness cut Harris off. Someone hit me just below the knees, and I crumbled to the floor in pain.
"Don, Mom, What's happening?" I grew dizzy and verged unconscious. I fought back to consciousness and rose to my feet. Groping,
I grabbed hold of Don.
Then the lights went back on, and Harris was gone!
"Don, Harris is gone!" I exclaimed, pointing to a warm and ruffled but empty, green chair. We searched the house thoroughly,
helped by the police, and found nothing but a piece of paper stuck in the chair with "A Day in the Life" written on it.
"Sorry," apologized Lieutenant Drack. "But there is no sign of him. I suspect kidnapping.
Unfortunately, both Don and I agreed.
That night the past affairs haunted my mind. Why was Harris kidnapped? What did the will have to do with it? Why can't the
police find a trace of him? What does "A Day in the Life" mean?
I'm sure Don must have been bothered as such, because when I went downstairs for some warm milk, Don was warming some for
me. A broad smile crossed his handsome face.
"I guess the whole thing has you, too."
"Yes. First, if there had been a contest for the will, why kidnap Harris? I mean, I suspect the nephew, but why would he kidnap
the uncle? -- To keep him from contesting the will?"
"All I know is that the nephew, Martin Bauer, owns a schooner in the marina. The police have not searched it, because it is
out to sea. In fact, they don't even know the schooner exists! The boat is under the fake name the police don't know, Marcus
Farmer. Given that Bauer means farmer in German -- well, you know," Don winked.
How do you know these things?"
"I asked Paula about the information on Bauer they'd unearthed, Don gladly informed me.
"If they know, then the Demeos must must have checked out the schooner, "I deducted.
"No. They need a search warrant."
"Then, why can't we investigate the schooner when it comes in?"
"Then, we'd better hurry. I promised Paula we'd be there by two o'clock," Don suggested impishly.
"Some buddy you are. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Because we've been buddies so long, I can predict what you're thinking on a case and what you'd do".
We jumped into our van and arrived at the marina where Paula flagged us down.
"The boat's about ten meters from shore. You can row out there while I watch the shore. If you must leave, I'll flash my light
on the windows of the boat," she instructed.
"Why didn't you row aboard?" I queried.
"Because Bauer just left with his car. Whoever was on the boat rowed to shore and left with him. I knew in advance they were
coming back and when, because I'd overheard Bauer's saying it to his accomplice during the party."
We crept down the grassy hill to several rowboats tied to a dock. Don and I took one oar each and splashed quietly toward
the schooner. I could feel a chilling wind blowing off the bay. We reached aboard and went below searching for the unknown.
Stumbling around with flashlights in the dark, we divided and searched both sides of below deck.
"Don, some of these drawers are locked."
"Don't worry about them. No one expected us to search here without a warrant. We're seeking Harris on this craft."
I opened a closet from which two shiny green eyes met me. With a cry of "Meow!", a black cat jumped past me and ran up the
stairs. Still shaking, I found a watch stuffed upon the very shelf the cat had just jumped off.
"Don, look. This watch is inscribed 'To Jonathan Harris. Congratulations upon your purchase of Wilson Throwing Company' This
is Harris's watch!" I exclaimed.
Don was looking at another closet. The clothes had the monogram of "J H " on them. There was a set of golf clubs with his
initials on the clubs.
"George, These are Harris's things. Could he have been here?"
"If that had been true, then where is he now?" I asked rhetorically.
Just as my words floated in the air, a ticking noise induced Don to place his flashlight upon an alarm clock's sitting on
two sticks of dynamite.
"George, it's a bomb set to fire in one minute and five seconds! We must get off the boat!"
I could feel my heart's pounding as we raced upstairs to the deck. We dove off the boat, feeling the slap of cool water. As
we swam towards shore, I saw the cat indecisively
stand upon the deck. It had followed us!
Suddenly the roar of explosion rocked the bay, throwing flaming boards and hot metal in all directions. Paula met us on shore.
"I thought you had still been on the boat!"
"No, but we were almost --"
The roar of an engine interrupted Don as it pulled out of the side of the highway above us. Someone had stayed to watch the
destruction of the boat and us!
We instinctively scrambled for our van. Amid door slamming, Don noted, "It's that same red pickup. It's just gone around the
corner. The engine screamed as we fastmade toward our quarry. Paula, sitting behind our bucket seats, noted, "There it is.
It pulled onto the sideroad."
We entered a smooth backroad going sixty and accelerated to eighty kilometers an hour, almost tailing the truck. Our headlights
seared the blackened landscape as we bounced and skidded with the road. The truck tried to avoid us by rolling around curves
and flying over bumps, but Don kept control of the van and our distance.
The pursued flipped around a corner, leaving us to do the same, but as we turned down the road, what looked like four two-meter
ghosts and two broomstick witches appeared, flying straight towards us! Don screeched to a halt, almost pulling us off the
road. We three exited the van and explored outside.
The goblins approached us ever more closely, causing us to duck.
"They look as real as you or I," Don transpired. "Here come some more!"
This time two ghosts, two witches, and three goblins headed toward us. The ghosts were sheet-white and brilliant against a
gloomy background. The witches were green with black clothing while the goblins were just plainly green!
"I don't know about you, Don was shaking, "but I'm getting out of here!"
We all followed suit, and our van screeched trying to leave our fear behind. Over the hum of the motor a curious thought crossed
my mind -- the road seemed familiar.
"Don, this is the same road to which we went to the mansion!"
Don gave me a strange look.
"George, you're right! This is the same road which we traveled to the Harris mansion. This calls for an invitation tomorrow
night when they don't expect one!"
When darkness engulfed the outside again, it was Halloween. Ghosts, goblins, and witches much smaller than we saw the night
before surrounded dying nature.
Retracing our path, we came upon where we had stopped the night before. This time the van halted predictably, and we looked
around. Just covered by the trees was the mansion on the hill. Only this time, the structure had lights on. No one was supposed
to be in the house!
"Paula, it might be dangerous in there," warned Don. "You'd better wait in the van."
"Not on your life. I'll search the basement, and you can go upstairs."
Don surrendered and led us up the hill.
"How should we enter the place, by the windows or the doors?" I inquired.
"I think Harris is being held upstairs," Don stated. "If the police searched the house, the kidnappers must have gone into
the secret parts of the house -- secret passages!"
We looked for an open window, but we settled for the front door. The door squeaked in protest much to our surprise. Didn't
we just come here last night? We crept down the hallway toward the ballroom.
"What're we doing here?" Don asked confused. "Isn't Harris upstairs?"
"Yes, but we'd better check the downstairs in case Harris isn't upstairs," I explained.
When we entered the ballroom, what should come upon us, but a Frankenstein monster's hollering toward us. Looking around,
we weren't in a ballroom, but a graveyard in Transylvania. A bat approached us and changed into Count Dracula himself. I was
too busy running to notice much else. I could feel my feet push hard against the ground, and my heart push at full speed.
Slamming the doors, Don puffed. "Wasn't that once a ballroom?" I only nodded.
"Something's definitely wrong," I agreed. "But they looked so real! Let's sneak upstairs."
Somehow the house had changed since the day before. The steps creaked and groaned as we ascended. Reaching the top, I searched
one side and Don the other. I sat down on the bed feeling a bit dizzy, when it happened -- the room began spinning.
Although I could not feel any physical centrifugal force, I felt an emotional impulse of being thrown against the wall. Then
my feet were on the wall, running but from what? The room spun faster, and I ran faster. Finally, I could not resist any more.
I could feel myself fall in a whirlpool spinning all the way down.
"George, where are you?"
"Over here on the bed!" I cried still falling.
Then I felt a real fall as I thudded the floor. I looked up at Don's smiling face.
"It looks as though you'd experience a hallucination, too."
"Too! What happened in the other room?"
"Nothing really. The furniture just grew five times their height or I shrank to 34 centimeters, and a rat chased me like a
piece of cheese."
"Let's go back downstairs and find Paula. She might have experienced hallucinations too."
As we walked downstairs, Paula was walking toward the steps.
"Well, guys, find anything?"
"Didn't anything strange happen?" Don asked.
"No, just a wine cellar, which was empty."
"But--" Don started as we heard a blood-curling laugh of some unearthly creature. I could feel cold play my spine as Don tightened
his grip on me. The steps were moving! The steps seemed to part from each other and attempt to swallow us.
Paula joined us as we hopped downstairs in a furious attempt to save ourselves. Huffing and puffing, we ran down the hall,
which began to grow. Faster and faster we ran and faster and longer grew the hill.
"What's going on?" Don puffed as we reached a door. "Did that hall seem long?"
Don had just opened the door when we all entered a swamp
with alligators' splashing towards us. I could feel my hair stand up as we splashed down the hall and down the stairs outside.
Enough investigation for tonight!" shouted Don. "I've had enough out of the house, I halted our current. "Don, wait, something
tangible is wrong."
Reaching down, my fingers enclosed over a blue piece of cloth -- the tie Harris wore the night he was kidnapped.
"Don, I think we have a graveyard to investigate. This path leads right to it."
Again the screeching feline laughter pierced the air.
"Come on, you two, we don't have all night."
"What is that mind of yours pondering?" Don inquired. "Something makes sense."
"Piece the puzzle this way -- What are we assuming which doesn't make sense?"
"We're all crazy?"
"No, I get it, that Harris was kidnapped!" Paula exclaimed.
"Correct. I suspect that the nephew is out of town all along," I surmised.
"But what about the boat?" Don pointed out.
"What about it? Remember the black cat?" I asked. "Paula, what about Bauer do you know that you didn't tell us?"
"He's an animal lover!" Paula exclaimed.
"Let's walk toward the graveyard while I explain. The answer is simple -- They didn't know that we were going to be on the
boat. Therefore, Harris planted the watch, intended to destroy the boat, and to make the police believe he was dead.
"I'll bet the nephew was far away when the explosion happened. Bauer would not have left his cat on board and Harris's clothes,
too."
"How do you know they were his clothes?" Paula continued. "There was no identification."
Don caught onto my train of thought and imitated Sherlock Holmes.
"Elementary, my dear Paula, the clothes weren't Bauer's, because he'd never been on the boat. Harris planted the papers expecting
the police to search it!"
"Where do you think Harris is now? Upstairs waiting for us to come up" I asked.
"No, The 'kidnappers' wouldn't have left his tie on the ground. He expects us to go to the graveyard looking for him!"
"What will we find -- not him of course."
"No, I'm not sure what we will find. It could be a trap. So Let's go carefully."
Now we were in the graveyard. Our flashlights shined on the stones.
"Look for the grave of William Roter," I commanded.
Don found it and knelt down in the grass.
"Now I get it -- William Albert Roter, 1897-1977 Requiescat in Pa--"
That horrible shriek encircled us again. What had like a five meter giant headed toward us followed by assorted witches and
goblins.
"Stand still," I walked toward them. They passed right through me!
Don smiled, his hair curling back.
"Holograms"
"Of course," Paula shouted. "We've been haunted by holograms!"
"What was Roter when he worked?" I asked.
"He worked on holograms as a physicist!"
"Shall we go up to the house?" Don concluded.
This time we walked right upstairs to the fifth floor and knocked on the door.
"Good evening, Doctor Roter," Don presented us. "We enjoyed your exhibition."
"I suppose you want to know why," Roter ascertained.
"My guess is that you wanted to see how your heirs would act when you're dead," I guessed.
"Correct. I only wanted to judge my son-in-law and my grandnephew, but --"
"Hold it, Pops," Harris grumbled behind us.
We spun around to see his holding a pistol.
"Does your theory hold? Don asked me.
"Partly, except the fact that Harris has something to gain, am I correct?"
"Right. There's oil on the property. I set up my nephew to disqualify him from the will, while I would inherit this land as
the victim of my nephew's crime. I blew up my boat to attract the attention to him. Then I would show up and accuse him of
kidnapping and attempted murder."
"Well, my will will disinherit you no matter what," yelled Roter.
"Not so, Pops," rebuked Harris. "My plan still works when you're really dead. Come on, you four, we're going to another of
Bauer's boats -- a real one -- and there's a bomb's ticking on it in the middle of the bay."
"Just one thought. What does "A Day in the Life" mean, I stalled while noticing some green eyes' shining upon the shelf behind
Harris.
"Remember the Beatles' song? One of the lyrics is "He blew his mind out in a car". I just made it in a boat."
"Look behind you!" I shouted, while waving my arms at the eyes to scare them.
As Harris on impulse turned, the black cat jumped at him, and I knocked the gun out of this hand which Don retrieved.
"It looks as though you be going to spend more than 'A Day in the Life" in prison," I predicted as I petted the cat which
saved our lives.
The next day we walked to the grave where Bauer was still standing. He was placing a candle for All Souls' Day.
Don walked up behind him and asked, "Don't you know he's alive?"
Bauer pivoted at us. "How do you know that?"
"We spoke to your grand uncle last night, so who's buried in his place?"
"It was an accident. When I told Uncle Jonathan, he threatened to expose me., unless I'd coöperate in his scheme to fool my
grand uncle into faking his death. He had me to try to force you off the read to scare you."
"I figured something like it when you panicked and pulled in front of us when I could read the license. Don and I went to
the department of motor vehicles this morning."
"Are you ready to testify against your uncle?" Don added.
"We're going to have to disinter the body," I reminded Don. "The police will be here shortly with a crew."
"Your mother's going to be angry at us," Don winked at me. "She saw a faked funeral, and there's no estate to litigate."
"But she'll be proud of us for solving the mystery, not to mention how grateful Roter is that he's not really buried there,"
I noted.
Turning back to Bauer, Don asked, "So, it's why Harris left his things on your boat, only to blow it up?"
Bauer nodded. "He didn't want to use his own boat."
"Yes he did -- to murder us!" Don spat.
"Come on, buddy," I assuaged with an arm around his shoulders. "We're safe now,"
"Watch it, George. One day you'll regret being so casual about death."
"I shudder to think of it. Here comes the lieutenant with the crew."
Drack looked at us.
"You boys should join our force," he congratulated us.
Little did I know that what Don had said would come back to haunt me a few years later.
I still miss you, buddy.
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