4
The
Ghosts emerge
Zack’s
Bar was closer to a being a storefront than a bar or restaurant,
although to this poor neighborhood and its rough clientele it
was that and more. It was a storefront with its front glass
painted over black and attached to a seemingly disused tenement
building with its windows crossed by two-by-fours. It looked
like a deserted and condemned building but it was anything but.
The dingy rooms above the bar were rentable by the hour, no
questions asked. All manners of private meetings, deals and
criminal transactions were held up there for those digging out
a dishonest living on the lowest rungs of the underworld.
Cliff
Marsland was sitting in the smokey storefront bar playing solitaire
at a back table. The candle in the old wine bottle flickered
over the remains of his just finished dinner. He’d had the only
item on the bar’s menu, stew, and he’d been sure something had
moved in it while he ate. It was not an uncommon occurrence,
he ignored it and pulled out his worn old deck of cards and
played. Most of the sort of people who drank and ate here were
not the kind to bother a lone man, that was too dangerous. But
then danger was a sort of entertainment for this low class crowd
and some people were openly looking to start a fight. But even
those looking for trouble usually steered clear of Marsland,
he was too much for any but a fool looking to get himself killed.
Though
he was known around the neighborhood he was not well known,
most didn’t know the details of his story only that he’d gone
to prison for murder and was not to be trifled with. He did
the usual sort of menial, back breaking odd jobs an ex-con could
get and occasionally, it was said, was usable as an extra hand
on a job that involved breaking the law. What nobody had yet
guessed was that he was also an agent for the Shadow.
Marsland
reached out from his deck for the beer he’d been nursing and
found himself facing a man all dressed in black. It was a bearded
man wearing a seaman’s pea coat and plain captain’s cap. The
surly stranger looked sharply at Marsland and growled “How about
playing a man’s game?”
Those
in earshot were struck silent. This could be the start of something
deadly.
Marsland
paused but then shrugged and collected up his cards “Poker?”
he suggested.
The
stranger sat down and Marsland started to deal and those in
earshot went back to their own business, nothing interesting
if there was to be no bloodshed.
The
smoke in the room was thick, watering eyes were less sharp but
Marsland saw on the back of the stranger’s hand the tatoo of
a Chinese symbol. Nothing that unusual on a seaman but it was
a cue as had been the wording of the demand to play. Marsland
knew the stranger who sat across from him was in reality the
Shadow himself.
He
said the apparent small talk that was the next in the chain
of cues. “A seaman, huh? At least you get to move about. I wonder
why I bother staying in this city, maybe I’ll pull up stakes
and try another town down the coast” It was an agreed on formula
of small talk but Cliff found himself saying it with a genuine
weariness. Maybe, leaving the city and this rotten neighborhood
was not such a bad idea.
The
stranger was silent. They were now just a part of the background
to the rest of the bar and now dared to say things in low tones
that could cause an uprising in the underworld thugs that dotted
the bar. If they thought Marsland and this stranger were spies,
death would be the only thought on their minds. But the stranger
showed no fear as he questioned Marsland about what he’d learned
about the case of Frank “the Snake” Earl.
Marsland
shrugged “Not much to report. That Earl must be as crazy as
they say that he didn’t see how in deep his killing all those
men would get him. No one here or anyone I know would help him.
Everybody here knew someone or knows someone who knew one of
Earl’s men, who Earl gunned down in cold blood. The underworld
was just as outraged as anyone. They all have plenty of ideas
what they’d do with Earl if he stupidly turned up ... but no
one I’ve met actually has any idea where he is.”
The
man in black nodded. “I want you to look for work with anyone
who needs hands on a smuggling job ... but try especially to
get a job with someone bringing in Bootleg from Long Island.”
Marsland
was stunned but he shook it off, after all he was dealing with
the Shadow, it should be no surprise if the Shadow was far ahead
of everyone else searching for Earl. But he asked the next question
anyway. “Why Long Island?”
There
was an enigmatic grin on the man in black. “It has beaches.”
Marsland
was perplexed.
In
low tones the Shadow explained. “New Jersey where the crime
took place has no hiding places for Earl, his only contacts
would be in the City. The City is being searched nearly street
by street by the Police. The highways out north, the usual bootlegging
routes by truck, have been blocked and watched. If he could
contact a rum running ship off Long Island it would give him
both a way to make a stake to move and a way out that is less
easy to block. He likely will bring a ship in and take it back
to Canada.”
Marsland
again was stunned, not just at the completeness of the Shadow’s
understanding but that he would so easily tell him, a poor ruffian,
all that there was to know.
Marsland
puzzled over where anyone could hide out on Long Island. “Beaches?”
he wondered aloud “He’s in Coney Island maybe?” There were certainly
a variety of Underworld types who worked preying on the crowds
in that resort for the city’s lower classes.
The
man in black shook his head “Too Many people there, he might
find someone who’d take him in but he could never trust one
of them wouldn’t betray him, no further out. More likely it
would be a private beach.”
That
was almost absurd “There’s nothing but rich people on the end
of Long Island.” that was an exaggeration but the point was
well taken, there wasn’t anyone out further, Marsland knew,
who a Hoodlum and Killer like Earl could turn to.
Again
the Shadow smiled his crooked grin. “How he worked the trick
will come out later. I’ll look into it among the seamen and
you keep an eye out among the underworld. You just do your best
to get a job moving bootleg.”
Something
about the trust the Shadow had in him inspired Cliff Marsland.”Canada,
huh? I once thought of moving to Canada myself” he admitted
in a rare opening up of a hard man.”And starting over a new
life.”
The
Shadow was silent for a long moment. “You’ve been a good agent,
Cliff, but you are always free to go. If you get a good offer
to better your life, take it.”
Cliff
never showed his emotions and had never spoken of Canada to
anyone before. But now he nodded in almost a solemn thank you
to the Shadow for the kind words. No, he had no better offer.
But even if he lived out his life on these mean streets among
these rough people, most of whom didn’t trust him or feared
him, he knew his life had one plus, the good work he’d done
with the Shadow.
They
had kept it brief and to the point and with an eye to those
about them. Sooner or later a game started in a bar would attract
another player and when it did the conversation had to be over.
The secret conversation was well over for several hands before
another denizen of the bar approached and sat in on their game.
After
a few more hands the seafaring stranger in black folded and
left the bar. Marsland played on thinking heavily on all he’d
learned and what his next step would be. Despite his preoccupation
he was winning and had to fold out himself before he took too
much money from these poor men and earned an enemy.
He
soon was lost from view of the Bar’s customers walking out onto
the dark streets. No one at this bar had any suspicion that
under their very noses the Shadow himself had been doing business.
Mavis
Martin was a cold blooded and calculating trickster, but bloodshed
was trouble, it was danger. And now she had foolishly linked
herself with a person to whom bloodshed was like wine, it made
him drunk, unable to see what he was doing and seemingly hungry
for more. Another less egotistical person would have run, run
far and run fast from what she’d gotten herself into. But instead
she held on, believing her skill at fooling others could keep
things under control. She still believed it not too late, that
her racket of fooling rich people out of their money was still
salvageable. But the trouble that was seeking Frank Earl out
would fall on her if she didn’t act fast.
And
so she helped this mass murderer with a scheme of her own. All
it would take was to move once more a foolish old woman and
her nephew. The old woman would be easy, it was the Nephew that
would be the problem. But then the nephew’s life would depend
on it. If she did not get to him then it would be out of her
hands and in the hands of the killer Frank Earl.
Agatha
Willis was at the front steps of Seagate House, the Willis Mansion
on the far Atlantic coast of Long Island. She was preparing
to leave the great house behind and the shame she felt for being
fooled by a charming con-woman. It still hurt deeply, she had
loved Mavis Martin like a sister and now she knew she had been
made a fool of and she felt very old and useless.
The
servants had all been let go so she was bringing her bag to
a waiting Cab. The cabby was patient and quiet, the fare from
this far mansion back to the city would be enormous. He helped
her with her bag but said nothing good or ill to the sad old
woman.
As
Agatha moved to enter the cab, she heard another car stop in
the driveway and out of it came Mavis Martin.
Agatha
froze when she saw Mavis, then her eyes began to fill with tears.
She wiped them angrily away “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
At
first Mavis said nothing.
“You
have your nerve” said Agatha “After all you did to me and my
family ... and now ...” she sputtered
“I’ve
come to apologize” said Mavis in a low voice.
Agatha
was open mouthed in amazement “And you think that is enough?
You apologize?”
“No,”
said Mavis darkly “there’s more.”
“I
don’t want to hear it.” stormed Agatha.
Mavis
was undeterred and in a commanding voice that nearly made Agatha
jump she said “I’ve come to tell you something wether you want
to hear me or not because your brother’s life hangs in the balance.”
Agatha
was appalled “Are you threatening Morgan! The very idea! If
you dare speak like that I will call the police and have them
see that you keep away from this house.”
The
police? Mavis’s mind reeled at the prospect. If they found Frank
Earl was in hiding on this property and it came out she had
helped him it would mean prison for her.
“No,”
said Mavis quietly “I will not be here, I will be safely in
the City.” and she fixed her gaze on Agatha “as I hope you will
be.”
The
passion that Mavis showed in that statement surprised Agatha.
Mavis
continued “You and your nephew must leave this house and not
return for a week, perhaps a month.”
Agatha’s
eyes began to fill again with tears “I don’t ever wish to see
this house again” she cried “thanks to you and your trickery”
She looked at her with all her wounded pride. “You betrayed
me.”
Mavis
looked down in penitence “Yes, I tricked you. But it was only
to get you to believe. If only you understood. What do you think
drives the seance forward? It is your belief. If you do not
believe with certainty, if you do not see it happening with
your own eyes, then nothing at all will happen. What matter
does it make that I help that belief along with stagecraft?”
then she stopped herself short “But that is not why I came here.
Believe what you want. That I betrayed you if that is what you
want. But leave this house and convince your Nephew to leave
this house before tonight.”
Agatha
was again stunned by the force of this woman’s words.
Mavis
spoke quietly putting things obliquely but with truth behind
the words “There is a force in this house that is unsettled
and dangerous. Its purposes are selfish and uncontrollable.
I cannot control it and if you are left alone with it it will
turn on you.” She said with feeling “If this house is closed
and the force left alone it will pass, I’m sure of it. But if
you or your nephew persist then ... “ she closed her eyes in
measured dread. “I see only death”
Agatha
was partly appalled that this woman, this fake Psychic, was
seemingly opening her heart to her and so luridly admitting
having had some terrible nightmare. But she was also intrigued
by the spectacle. “You ... you truly believe this?” she asked
wondering but try as she might to see a trick here she couldn’t,
this woman was apparently sincere.
“If
I cannot convince you to leave at least I have tried.” Mavis
said apparently regaining control of herself. “I would not like
to feel that by not speaking I had in some way contributed to
what might come to pass. Then I would have you or you nephew’s
blood on my hands.”
Just
then the spell that Mavis was so intently weaving over Agatha
was disturbed. Agatha’s nephew Morgan emerged from the House.
Morgan took two steps, stopped short and exclaimed in exasperation
“You again!”
He
strode threateningly down to Mavis “I thought it was clear you
were not to return to Seagate.” he steamed at her “And you are
especially forbidden to speak to my Aunt.”
Mavis
nodded meekly but Morgan was not through with his anger. “Leave
this house this instant or I’ll call the Police to see that
you do.”
Again
Mavis winced at the prospect of the Police being brought in.
“I’m going. “ she said coldly. “I’ve done all I can. “ she said
and bowed slightly in Agatha’s direction turned and returned
to the car driven by an associate that she had arrived in.
Morgan
watched the car leave the driveway and exit the great gate with
continued anger. “The unmitigated gall” he muttered.
All
this time the Cabby who had come for Agatha had been sitting
in the cab awaiting Agatha to enter. He had gotten very little
out of the speech by Mavis but knew enough not to ask what it
had all been about. The young man, Morgan, had given Agatha
a small kiss on the cheek and returned to the house. The cabby
got out hoping that if he acted to help the Old woman into the
cab things would proceed more quickly. But when he got to the
curb the old lady surprised him.
“Take
my bag out of the cab” she said flatly.
The
cabby scratched his head. “You don’t want to leave?”
She
blinked at him. “I think I was clear in what I said.”
The
Cabby didn’t argue with the customer, he took her bag out, but
it was trouble he hadn’t counted on. “Er ... lady ... I’m sorry
... “ he began “I was sent out here from the City. I guess I
shouldn’t have taken the job, I should have told you to hire
a limousine service or something. But there it is. Now I have
to got back to the city.” he explained “and that’s a long way,
believe me, lady.”
He
was blunt but he was mostly apologizing for the predicament
her decision had put him in. He blamed himself for getting this
far out onto the island like this. It had likely been a momentary
lapse of judgement motivated by greed. Now it looked like he
was going to get egg on his face for doing it, be dismissed
without the long, profitable fare.
The
lady was impatient but understood and paid the driver. She even
included a tip which made him feel even the more foolish and
apologetic. He doffed his cap “You’re a gent, lady” he said
incongruously and started up the cab and began to move off down
the driveway.
Agatha
now stood alone on the stone steps. She was thinking dark thoughts.
The seed that Mavis had planted in her gullible mind was taking
root. She was beginning to fear what Mavis called the unsettled
force withing the house. But instead of begging Morgan to leave
she had decided to face this with him. If he were to die, she
couldn’t bear it. Instead she would stay and if necessary die
with him.
These
dark and terrible thoughts were unknown to the cabby who was
just driving off and heading out of the Great gate, but he remained
puzzled and disturbed by the scene on the steps between Mavis
and Agatha. He wondered if he should make a report about this.
Moe
Shrevnitz, New York Cabby and sometime aide and agent wondered
if this were something important enough to report to the Shadow.
The Night over Seagate House was calm, the sea down by the Cove
was placid and the moon was full, but Agatha Willis was on edge.
She winced at every little noise from the old house and started
at every chime of the grandfather clock as it rang out the lengthening
hours.
Her
nephew Morgan did his best to soothe her. He threw together
a modest supper and made a fire in the fireplace and it was
genuinely pleasant and homey sitting out a quiet evening in
the Parlor. Perhaps now, he thought, all the unpleasantness
of the past could be forgotten and he and his aunt could reconcile.
But instead of growing calmer as the night went on Agatha’s
agitation increased.
She’d
asked him to make her a cup of coffee but as he handed it to
her the clock struck again and she nearly jumped out of her
chair, spilling the coffee onto the rug. Agatha rose and moved
to kneel to clean it with a napkin but Morgan coaxed her into
sitting back down in the chair. In few minutes later he’d given
her another cup and she sighed in relief as she swallowed it
down.“Thank you, Morgan” she sighed “You’re a good boy.”
Morgan
smiled, he was past thirty but to Agatha he remained only a
“good boy.”
The
fire sputtered into a loud pop and a spark shot out into the
room. Agatha startled, grabbed at her chest and breathing heavily
looked into all the shadowed corners of the room.
Morgan
shook his head “Really, Aunt Agatha, One would think you still
saw ghosts walking about the room.” he sighed in exasperation.
“Isn’t that over now? Hasn’t all that we went through taught
you better?”
Agatha
didn’t answer, she just put her cup down and looked to the fire
distantly.
He
shook his head again “I think it’s high time you went to your
room, Aunt.” he sighed, then smiled at her mischievously “You’d
better go now, Aunt, or you’ll end up sleeping in your chair.”
Agatha
bristled slightly “Nonsense, I may be old but I can still stay
up as long as a young popinjay like you.”
“Not
tonight” he smiled.
Agatha
blinked, she was puzzled by the certainty in his tone. “Why
not?”
He
grinned all the wider “I put a sedative in your coffee.”
Agatha
stared at him her mouth going slack with amazement.
“I
expect you’ll be sleeping quietly in just a moment or two.”
he said almost proud of himself.
“Oh
... Morgan! ... You didn’t!” she stammered. Then she tried to
stand and found she was wobbly and sat back down with a jolt.
She held her face in her hands. “Oh, No! Morgan what have you
done!”
Disturbed
she was taking on so he sighed. “Why ... why are you upset?
Admit it, you’ve been jumping at every shadow all night. You
need a rest. Now with the help of a sedative you’ll sleep peacefully
and in the morning all thoughts of Ghosts and disturbed fearful
feelings will be gone, I’m sure of it.” he cajoled her. “You
can think of it as just a well-needed nerve tonic. In the morning
you’ll thank me.”
Agatha
blinked in disbelief. “Morgan! Morgan! My Nerves? Morgan, it
wasn’t my nerves! I stayed with you tonight to help you, to
see you through this night!” she cried “But now ... What can
I do now?”
Morgan
almost gasped in surprise at her fearfulness. “What on earth
are you talking about?” he said in frustration but he thought
again about how that Mavis character had had her alone on the
front steps and afterward she’d suddenly changed her mind about
leaving. It was Mavis. Who knew what terrible ideas she had
put into her poor head? He angered “If it was something that
Mavis told you, you can forget all about it! Haven’t we shown
her to be a fake? How can you let yourself still believe in
her?”
But
Agatha was swooning. The sedative was taking her into sleep
but her eyes still searched the room. “This house ...” she sighed
“This house is alive.”
He
couldn’t resist following her eyes as they wandered across the
light flickering on the walls.
“I
always suspected this house was watching and waiting in all
my years growing up here.” she said “Those stories of the Ghost
of Captain Black, how he walked in the moonlight down by the
Cove. Often I lay awake listening to the moaning of the house
late into the night.”
He
looked as her sagging head and the eyes fading into drugged
sleep. “Now “ she stammered “Now I know it’s true.”
He
stood up. She was asleep, but it hadn’t gone as well as he’d
hoped. It was his fault. He shouldn’t have told her of the sedative
it had only made her feel more insecure and helpless. He had
wanted to help her and now he’d just deepened her nightmares.
He
picked up the cup from her limp fingers. He’d let her sleep
on the chair. Self recrimination was pointless now. He’d just
have to go to sleep and hope in the morning this moment of panic
she’d felt would be forgotten. He fervently hoped so, but he
was also afraid it wouldn’t be and he’d only made things worse.
He
touched Agatha’s sleeping head. “Goodnight, Aunt. We’ll try
again in the morning” he sighed.
Just
then he heard a noise. He stood at attention. It was a strange
echoing sound, as if he’d heard the house itself take a breath.
The echo died off like a child’s laughter, giggling to itself.
It chilled his blood. But he shrugged it off, a sound meant
someone else in the house, he was on alert.
He
heard another sound. Someone was moving down the hall. He moved
to the parlor doorway to intercept it, but then stopped. What
if it were a burglar? He turned back to the parlor and opened
a draw in an end table. He took out a revolver and checked it
in the meager firelight. It was loaded. He put it in his pocket
and very carefully stepped into the hall. Down the hall would
be the phone.
He
found the table with the tall candlestick phone on it by the
streaming moonlight from a back window. On the table also was
a lamp, he tried the switch. It didn’t respond. He clicked it
again But all there was was the sound of the clicking switch.
He fumbled with the phone and put the earpiece to his ear, for
a moment he thought he heard the operator and he called out
to her. “Operator ... “ but there was no response. He clicked
the hook the ear piece had been in and called out again “Operator!
...” but still no response.
No
lights! No phone! Someone moving in the hall! He tried to control
himself, he mustn’t panic. He found his way to a door to the
outside at the end of the hall.
Before
him in the moonlight was the beach of the cove behind the house
and he was dumbstruck by an awesome sight. A ship, a great,
black sailed frigate such had been plying the waters of the
Atlantic for a hundred years lay in the sea beyond, sailing
majestically across the mouth of the cove.
Then
as his eyes moved back across the beach he saw a figure standing
in the shadows beneath a small copse of trees. He reached into
his pocket for the courage holding the revolver would bring
and approached the intruder.
As
he neared the figure it turned to him and stepped out from under
the trees. The moonlight caught a garish figure in the flared
shirt and knee breeches of another century. Morgan stopped short
gripping the gun in his pocket more firmly.
The
figure looked up at Morgan and Morgan gasped. It had no face.
Instead of a face was a naked white skull. Beneath its bony
brow were only black holes.
Morgan
at first stunned did the only thing he could think of, he pulled
the revolver from his pocket and pointed it at the apparition.
When
he did so suddenly two eyes appeared in the depths of the skull
face. Eyes wide with fury. Some sort of growl echoed from the
skull.
He
steaded his aim on the apparition. If it feared the gun, he
would use the gun to bring this “ghost” into submission.
But
the Ghost was not without a weapon of its own. Its arm raised
and to Morgan’s amazement it approached swinging a broad cutlass.
It
was all so unreal. Morgan felt heavy, in slow motion, the gun
in his hand only a weight he desperately was begging his hand
to use before it was too late. But it was too late. The sword
swung down and hit the hand that held the gun. Morgan cried
out in pain and he felt the warm wetness of his own blood.
Morgan
screamed in pain. And someone in the trees behind the Ghost
cried out “No! Frank, Don’t!” But all Morgan saw was the blazing
eyes deep in the skull as the sword came down on him again.
Then
Morgan fell over into the sand. The world was fading away from
him as his blood flowed out of his wounds. He was gasping out
his last breath as the figure that stood over him lifted his
skull face and a broad mustached face he didn’t know looked
pitilessly down on him. It was the last sight he saw in this
world.
Over
the body of Morgan Willis stood Frank Earl and at his side Mavis
Martin. Mavis was tearing at her hair. “Frank, what have you
done! How can we deal with this?! How can we explain his death?
How can we explain killing him with a sword?!”
Frank
was a cold voice of experience. “Keep hold, Mavis. One injury
looks about the same as another if you’re in a car that’s crashed.”
Mavis
didn’t comprehend.
“Look!”
Frank said pointing to the hill at the edge of the cove. There
was a road on the hilltop there that curved near the sea. “Put
him in a car and push it off where that road turns.” he sniffed.
“We can do that before morning. Meantime, I have to see the
Captain of that ship out there.”
Mavis
looked up, a long boat had been launched from the ship and it
was making its way toward them on the shore. The ship behind
the long boat still looked like a black vision in the moonlight
but the rough men in the long boat were a sharp edge of reality.
Mavis
looked at Earl “Does that mean you’re leaving? You’ll be taking
that boat now to Canada?”
Frank
looked at her as if she were mad. “This wasn’t a planned stop
for the ship, not this time. There won’t be much of a cargo
for us. I can’t leave until it returns with a full haul. I have
to make a big stake if I’m not coming back.”
To
Frank that was all obvious and without question. Frank tossed
away the mask he’d worn and went to meet the long boat. But
to Mavis that just meant this nightmare was not over. She looked
down at the body of Morgan Willis. Somehow Mavis thought again
clutching at her hair, all this must be made right.
