The Dead Season Read online

  Not long after dinner the Hardys and Callie excused themselves and said good night.

  After the long trip all they wanted was to go to bed and get a good night's sleep. There would be time enough the next day to sightsee and hear all of Gary's ghost stories.

  In the hallway outside their rooms Frank said, "I thought I was the only one who was exhausted."

  "No," said Callie with a yawn and a shake of her head. "Good night."

  "Must be the salt air," said Joe.

  "Good night," said Frank. "See you in the morning."

  "Happy vacation," said Callie, and gave Frank a quick good-night kiss on the cheek.

  A cool ocean breeze wafted in through the open window in Frank's room. When he first heard the screams, he thought they were coming from outside.

  Then he thought he was dreaming.

  But now he was wide-awake, and his blood ran cold as he realized the sound was coming from inside Runner's Harbor.

  It was Callie, and she was screaming for her life.

  Chapter 3

  Frank raced down the hallway with Joe right behind him. Callie had stopped screaming now, and Frank feared the worst.

  The room was dark when Frank and Joe pushed the door open. In the shadows they could just make out Callie standing on the bed, her back pressed against the wall.

  "Watch out!" she warned in a voice hushed with fear.

  "What is it?" whispered Frank.

  "S - snake." Callie pointed a shaky finger at the foot of the bed.

  "There." Joe nodded. He reached to turn on the light, but Frank stopped him.

  "Not yet!"

  Joe held back. "How should we handle it?"

  "Very carefully," Frank answered quietly.

  At the foot of Callie's bed was a coral snake. Even in the dim light from the hallway its colors - alternating bands of yellow, black, and red - were vivid and shimmering. The snake, which seemed to be about three feet long, was coiled into a circle and looked harmless enough.

  Under his breath Joe said, "Is it poisonous?"

  "If it's what I think it is - it is," whispered Frank with a nod. His lips were pursed as he tried to think of a way to capture the snake. To Callie, in a normal but soothing voice, he said, "Just stay where you are. Everything's going to be okay. Joe, when I say now, I want you to turn on the light."

  Gary, Janet, and the Wilkersons were now gathered in the hallway at the open door.

  "What's wrong?" asked Gary.

  "Nothing," said Frank very quietly. "We'll handle this." He turned toward the snake.

  Cautiously he approached the snake until he was standing directly over it. Very quietly he bent over and reached with his right hand for the snake's head. "Now!" he whispered loudly, and in the instant that the light flashed on Frank grasped the snake tightly just below its mouth and held it high, restraining its gaping mouth until he could throw it head-first into the pillowcase that Joe held out in front of him.

  With a swift, sure movement, he tied the open end of the case into a firm knot.

  "Done." He sighed. He turned and faced a concerned-looking Gary.

  "What was that all about?" Gary asked worriedly. Frank explained the situation and that he had gotten rid of the problem.

  "Is Callie okay?" Janet asked from behind Gary, trying to peer into the room.

  "I'm fine," Callie called out in a shaky voice.

  "Is the snake in that pillowcase?" Gary asked.

  "Yes. It's an extremely poisonous coral snake, and I'm glad we got here in time," Frank said.

  Seeing that everything was under control, Gary broke the group up and suggested they all return to bed.

  After Frank had taken the snake outside and set it loose far from the hotel, he, Callie, and Joe took a walk on the beach to calm down after the excitement.

  "What I can't figure out is how that snake got in your room," said Frank, still mulling over the night's excitement.

  They might have continued talking about the snake, but at that moment they were interrupted by the muted sound of piano playing.

  "Where's that coming from?" asked Frank.

  "Sounds like the piano on the pavilion," said Joe, "but I can't imagine who'd be playing piano at this hour."

  The pavilion was an ornate, half-open structure that was about midway between the hotel and a cliff that dropped a hundred feet or so to the beach.

  Joe wrinkled his brow and said, "That song sounds familiar."

  "It's by Gershwin," said Callie. " 'Someone to Watch Over Me.' " When they were about fifty feet from the pavilion, the music stopped as abruptly as it had begun.

  There was no sound but the waves crashing against the rocks farther along on the beach. Light from a nearly full moon cast long shadows across the pavilion dance floor, and at the far end of the floor was the piano.

  No one was in sight. Joe and Callie walked around the pavilion quietly and found nothing.

  "I wonder who was playing," said Frank.

  "It was lovely," said Callie.

  The three of them stood in silence for a moment. Finally Frank said, "Why would someone play the piano in the middle of the night?" They left and made a surveillance tour of as much of the grounds as they could in the dim light but found nothing.

  As the three of them walked back, they passed a section of the hotel that was in the midst of being repaired. Prominently placed on one wall was a sign that said, "Renovation by Tyler Construction. Barbados's Oldest Building Company."

  Frank paused a moment to read it, and Joe said, "What do you think?"

  "Maybe someone on the construction crew knows what's happening around here. It's as close to a lead as we've got," said Frank. "We'll check it out with the company in the morning."

  ***

  The rest of that night passed uneventfully, but in the morning, when the Hardys went downstairs, they found the Wilkersons checking out of the hotel. Paul was explaining to Janet that Denise was terrified of snakes and they didn't feel they'd be able to enjoy the rest of their honeymoon. They apologized, then left.

  After breakfast Callie went sightseeing with Janet and Gary, and Joe and Frank borrowed one of the hotel's cars and paid a visit to Tyler Construction, which was about five miles down the coast road from Runner's Harbor. The building that housed the company was a modest but attractive white brick structure nestled under palm trees.

  As Frank and Joe walked from the car through the small parking lot to the entrance, Joe asked, "Just what are we looking for here? Snake handlers or guys in suits from the 1920s who knew Al Capone?"

  "Very funny," said Frank. "I don't know, but Tyler's men have been working around the hotel for some time, and maybe one of them's seen something. It's worth checking out. We won't stay long. Then we'll go back and hit the beach, okay?" Joe nodded his consent.

  A receptionist in the cool office showed the Hardys into a larger one. A large wooden ceiling fan circulated the air gently.

  A tall, tanned man stood up from behind a polished mahogany desk and said, "Randolph Tyler. Pleased to meet you. How can I be of service?"

  "I'm Frank Hardy. This is my brother, Joe. We're staying at Runner's Harbor, and we wanted to ask you a few questions."

  They all shook hands. From a corner of the room a young man appeared. He was perhaps a year or two older than Frank. Slender and dark haired, he wore wire-rimmed glasses that framed sullen brown eyes.

  "Sorry to interrupt," he said to the boys, "but Mr. Tyler's time is very short."

  Tyler looked at the young man curiously, then turned to Frank and Joe and said, "Brady's right, as usual. This is Brady Jamison, my assistant."

  To the Hardys Jamison said, "Can these questions wait? I'm afraid we really have to go shortly, and I don't believe you had an appointment."

  Joe fought an urge to say something rude to Jamison but instead told Tyler, "We can be very brief."

  "That seems reasonable to me," said Tyler. "Have a seat. We've got a few minutes."

  The Hardys to
ok chairs in front of Tyler's desk as Brady Jamison mumbled, "Only a few."

  "What can I tell you?" asked Tyler.

  "This is a bit strange, I know," said Frank, "but we were wondering what you could tell us about Runner's Harbor."

  Brady Jamison interrupted to say snidely, "I'm sure you can find all the answers to those questions at the Barbados Public Library. It's really very well stocked with history books. All about the exploits of the very colorful criminal Wiley Reed."

  "That's enough, Brady." Randolph Tyler smiled at his assistant with a patience that seemed well practiced. He turned his attention back to Frank and Joe. "Brady's dad and I were partners, so Brady and I go way back." He smiled at the young man again. "My family has lived on this island for five generations. There's very little I don't know. Briefly, Runner's Harbor was built by Wiley Reed in the twenties and was his base of operations for a very lucrative rum-exporting business. Shipping liquor out of Barbados was not illegal. What he did with it on the other end was of no concern to people here. He did very well, I understand. Now, my company has been hired to renovate the place. I own the hotel you drove by to get here, and adding Runner's Harbor and all its property to my hotel would make it the finest and largest resort in the Caribbean. I hope to buy it someday."

  "Why didn't you buy it?" asked Frank. "Gary and Janet just got it two years ago."

  "That's really none of your business," Brady Jamison interrupted again. "What's this all about?"

  Tyler considered Frank a moment and said, "Brady may be blunt, but he has a point. You haven't told us why you're asking all these questions."

  Frank told Tyler who they were, that he and Joe and Callie were visiting Callie's cousin, and that there were some unexplained occurrences at the hotel, and they just wanted to ask some questions.

  "What sort of things?" asked Tyler.

  "Well," Frank began, "someone put a coral snake in one of the guest rooms last night."

  "The island is full of snakes, I'm afraid," Tyler offered, "and with all the digging we've been doing, it's no surprise that one could turn up in a room. Now, what else?"

  Brady Jamison abruptly ended the meeting right then by insisting that he and Tyler leave for their appointment.

  The four of them walked to the parking lot together.

  As he prepared to get into his jeep, Tyler turned to the Hardys and said, "A word of friendly advice?"

  "Sure," said Frank.

  "I think you boys should relax and enjoy the island and not get caught up in local nonsense. Lie on the beach and take it easy."

  ***

  The Hardys took his advice. Soon after their meeting with Tyler and Brady Jamison, they were stretched out on the white sandy beach, lazing beneath the warm sun. Huge blue waves folded over on themselves and slid up on the sand to keep them company.

  Late in the afternoon Callie joined them. Finally at sunset they strolled back to the hotel to eat too much of Gary and Janet's special supper.

  Afterward they sat on the huge porch enjoying the cool night air. Lulled by the gentle sounds of the ocean, they went to bed early.

  Joe had trouble sleeping. He'd spent too much time dozing on the beach to need more sleep.

  For a long time he lay in bed tossing and turning. No matter what he did, he couldn't sleep.

  "This is ridiculous," he mumbled to himself.

  Around midnight he decided to get some fresh air. A walk on the beach might make him drowsy, he decided.

  Joe got out of bed, pulled on his jeans and a shirt, and was about to leave his room when something out the window caught his eye.

  Down the hill he spotted someone walking on the beach.

  Joe went to the open window and looked at the distant figure lit by the moon.

  "This can't be," he whispered.

  It was Millicent Reed.

  Chapter 4

  It couldn't be Millicent Reed, but it was.

  Joe had to get to the beach. He had to convince himself one way or another. He had to put this ghost business to rest.

  Glancing at the door, he decided there wasn't time for the stairs, so he took the direct route.

  Joe crawled out the window and scrambled down a vine that reached from his window to the ground, then ran down the hill to the beach.

  He calculated that from the time he first spotted Millicent Reed to the time he reached the beach was no more than two minutes, but by the time he got there she was gone. He found the place where he had seen her and looked for footprints, but the tide was coming in now. Even if she had been there, her footprints would have been washed away.

  He asked himself why he had thought "even if." There had to have been someone. He did see someone, and he knew there was no such thing as ghosts.

  To be certain, Joe walked up and down the beach, but in the dim moonlight he found no clues and no place where she could have hidden. He finally decided to resume his search in the morning, so he headed back to the hotel and his bed.

  ***

  Frank and Callie were already at breakfast the next morning when Joe arrived.

  "Well, little brother," teased Frank. "Never knew you to be a sleepy-head. I guess the sea air agrees with you."

  "Nope," Joe said. "I wish it did put me to sleep. Then I wouldn't have been up all night chasing Millicent Reed."

  "What?" Callie exclaimed.

  "Start at the beginning," Frank said in a quiet voice.

  Between bites of scrambled egg and toast, Joe told his story about seeing the woman - Millicent Reed - on the beach. He recounted his fruitless midnight chase.

  "But where could she have gone?" asked Callie.

  "The tide washed any footprints away," guessed Frank.

  "That's what I figured," Joe agreed. "Unless, of course - "

  "Of course what?"

  "Unless I saw a ghost."

  "A ghost!" scoffed Frank. "Come on."

  "I hate to say it, but it seemed so real," said Joe.

  "But who would want to play a prank like that?" asked Callie.

  "That," said Frank, "is something we have to find out. Listen, Joe. You go back to the beach this morning and see what you can find. Callie and I'll check out the rest of the grounds. Let's hope we can wrap this up by lunchtime and then start to relax."

  "Sounds good to me," said Joe.

  "Okay, then," said Frank. "Callie, let's go."

  After they left, Joe quickly finished eating his breakfast and returned to the beach to try to retrace his steps of the night before. Even in the bright Caribbean sunlight he could see nothing that even vaguely resembled a clue. Still, he told himself as he slowly wandered along the edge of the water, there were worse places to carry out an investigation.

  Perhaps a quarter mile down the beach he spotted a solitary figure sitting on a beach chair in front of a painter's easel. Even from a distance he could tell that it was Allistair Gaines.

  As Joe approached it struck him that Gaines had been curiously absent when they'd found the snake in Callie's room.

  "Haven't seen much of you around the hotel," said Joe, approaching the elderly man.

  "True, true," said Gaines without looking away from his painting. "Stay to myself pretty much. Pretty much to myself. Always been that way. Always."

  Joe thought a moment before saying, "Do you ever hear piano playing in the middle of the night?"

  "Of course," said Gaines, still concentrating on his work. "Hear it all the time."

  "You do?" Joe was incredulous. "Any idea who's playing?"

  "I got more than ideas, son," said Gaines, looking at Joe for the first time. "I know perfectly well who it is."

  "Who?"

  "Wiley, of course." Gaines looked back to his painting.

  "How do you know it's him?" Joe asked.

  "Millicent told me."

  Joe wasn't sure whether to pursue this or just let it go. Allistair Gaines was clearly of no help to him.

  "By any chance, were you on the beach last night, say around midnigh
t?" asked Joe.

  "Sound asleep," said Gaines. "Sound asleep. Man needs his rest. Why? Did you see Millicent?"

  "How did you know?" Joe asked.

  Gaines just smiled and tilted his head.

  "Well," said Joe, "when did you see Millicent?"

  "See her all the time, son, all the time," said the old man, with a trace of annoyance in his voice now. "She often comes out at night to stroll on the beach. Once in a while you'll see her during the day. Mostly at night, though. Mostly at night."

  "I don't want to seem rude, Mr. Gaines," Joe began, sensing the man was running out of patience, "but hasn't Millicent Reed been dead for many years?"

  Gaines let his brush fall away from the canvas but continued to gaze at his painting. In a hoarse, quiet voice he said, "Of course."

  "Then - "

  "Then who does a crazy old man think he's talking to?"

  Joe didn't say anything.

  "I'll tell you, I never believed in ghosts till I came back to this hotel, but that's Millicent I saw, sure as I'm sitting here."

  Joe said, "When did you see her last?"

  "Maybe five minutes ago."

  "Five minutes!" said Joe. "Where?"

  "Here," said Gaines with a dismissive wave of his hand. He picked up his brush, dipped it carefully into a splotch of white on his palette, and resumed his work.

  "Which way did she go?" asked Joe.

  Gaines nodded with his head to indicate farther along the beach. "Thanks!" Joe called out as he started in that direction.

  He found footprints about fifty feet from where Gaines was sitting. They formed a line along the edge of the water that was interrupted in a few places where the waves had erased it.

  Joe walked faster now; he didn't want to lose the trail.

  He needn't have worried.

  Perhaps a hundred yards ahead he could see where the footprints stopped. There, apparently asleep on a blanket, a woman was sunbathing.

  Joe's heart raced inexplicably as he hurried to where she lay.

  What if it really is Millicent? he asked himself. But, of course, it isn't, he thought. There's no such thing as a ghost, especially on a beach in broad daylight.