The Mystery in Dracula's Castle

by Vic Crume

  "I'm up here," Alfie's voice called back from the next floor. "Come on up. I've just discovered somebody's laboratory!"

  Leonard's heart thumped. Where there were laboratories there were usually mad scientists. And about the last thing Leonard wanted to do was to discover a mad scientist. But almost anything was better than being alone with a box of dynamite. Slowly, he went up the winding stairs to the second floor.

  At the top floor of the lighthouse, in the seclusion and bright light of the glassed-in lantern gallery, Keith Raynor heard the voices of the uninvited visitors. Hastily he lifted the Daumier necklace off the drawing board and slipped it into his pocket. Then he went quickly to the open trapdoor and looked down the staircase.

  Alfie's voice floated up to him. "This is the place where mad scientists do their experiments. Just look at all those bottles and tubes!"

  Then he heard Leonard's quavering voice: "What kind of experiments?"

  "Transplants…brains, glands, hands, everything," came the reply. "You know, Frankenstein, Wasp Woman."

  Why, it was only two kids and a dog. One of the kids was dressed in a funny-looking long black cape. Keith crept on down.

  Watson suddenly gave a low growl.

  "Alfie." Leonard grabbed his brother. "Let's get out of here."

  "What are you kids doing down there?" Keith Raynor called out roughly. He came thumping the rest of the way down the stairs.

  Leonard's voice trembled out. "Are you the mad scientist?"

  Keith Raynor burst out laughing. He flicked a light switch and immediately the "mad scientist's laboratory" turned into an artist's workshop. Daubs of color were everywhere and sheet-draped canvas paintings were propped around the walls. "No. I'm not a mad scientist. I'm an artist — Keith Raynor. And who are you? Dracula?"

  "Oh, no," Leonard answered quickly. "I'm Leonard Booth. And this is my dog, Watson."

  "And I'm Alfie," said Alfie.

  "I wish I could say I was glad to meet you," Keith Raynor said. "Do you want to explain why you're here, or should I call the sheriff?"

  Alfie gasped. "The sheriff! What for? We haven't done anything."

  "No?" replied the artist. "I'd say you've done something — it's called 'breaking and entering'."

  "We didn't break anything," Alfie said.

  "The door wasn't locked. We just entered," Leonard added, truthfully.

  Keith Raynor looked from one boy to the other. "Why?"

  Alfie spoke up. "I'm making a film — Dracula. My brother's playing the lead role. And this would be a great location — it's really a weird layout."

  "It looks like a torture chamber," Leonard said.

  Keith Raynor smiled. "First time I've heard an artist's workshop called a torture chamber." He waved his hand toward the paints, brushes, and easels. "I paint pictures for a living."

  "Then what's the dynamite for?" Leonard asked.

  "Dynamite!" Keith Raynor and Alfie Booth exclaimed together.

  "Yes, dynamite. It's on the table downstairs."

  There was a long pause. Then Keith Raynor laughed. "Oh, that. You mean my fireworks. I had to label them 'dynamite' just in case the sheriff saw the box. You know fireworks are unlawful in this county."

  "Real fireworks?" Alfie asked. "Wow! Are you going to set them off on the Fourth of July?"

  Keith Raynor looked uneasy. "Oh, no! Labor Day, maybe."

  "Maybe I could work them into a movie," Alfie said eagerly.

  "Maybe you could," the artist replied. "But if you want to help me with the fireworks on Labor Day you'll have to go now."

  Alfie sighed. "Too bad. This really is Dracula's Castle."

  "Sorry," Keith Raynor said. "But that's the way it has to be."

  Alfie nodded sadly. "Okay. Come on, Leonard. I'll just have to change the shooting schedule again."

  As the boys and Watson left the lighthouse and started down the driveway, the door behind them closed and locked. Alfie looked back. "Listen, Leonard — I want to get some shots of the castle. You go back to the steps. It'll just take us a second."

  "But the man said —" Leonard began.

  "Go on, Leonard," Alfie said firmly. "It'll be all right."

  No sooner had Alfie spoken, than Noah Baxter swung the Volkswagen into the drive. The boys ducked out of sight, but Watson, who had just settled himself, didn't stir.

  "We'd better go, Alfie," Leonard urged.

  Alfie shook his head. "I've just got to get my title shot, at least. Wait, Leonard. He'll be going in. They won't notice us."

  Noah Baxter stopped the car at the entrance to the storage room and honked the horn twice. Almost immediately, Keith Raynor opened the door.

  Noah stepped from the car. "Give me a hand with this," the boys heard him say.

  As the two men lifted a small but heavy safe from the seat of the car, Noah dropped the shiny car keys. Like a shot from a gun, Watson was after them. Silver — his favorite color!

  Without thinking, Noah Baxter dropped his end of the safe, nearly crushing Keith Raynor's toes. He was off at top speed after Watson, who had already skidded to a stop and dropped the keys at Leonard's feet.

  "What are you kids doing here?" he called out angrily.

  "We're making a film," Alfie called back. "Mr. Raynor knows all about it."

  "Making film!" Noah exclaimed. He strode up to the boys, picked up the car keys, and grabbed Alfie's camera.

  "Hey! that's mine," Alfie exclaimed. "Give it back."

  Keith Raynor caught up with Noah. "Give him back his camera, Noah," he said quietly. "I'll take care of this."

  "You'd better!" Noah scowled as he returned the camera to Alfie.

  Keith Raynor looked from Leonard to Alfie. "I asked you boys in a nice way to go. Now I'll have to do something drastic. I'll have to speak to your parents."

  Alfie and Leonard looked at each other, and then up at Keith Raynor.

  "Our parent, you mean," Leonard said. "We've only got one."

  Alfie said nothing. He knew that in a case like this, one parent was drastic enough.

  Mrs. Booth was just opening the screen door as Alfie, Leonard, Watson, and Keith Raynor came up the porch steps.

  "Mrs. Booth?" Keith asked.

  "Yes?" Marsha Booth glanced quickly at Alfie and Leonard. They were staring down at their sneakers. Even Watson had a guilty look. She looked back at the stranger.

  "I'm Keith Raynor. I live in the old lighthouse on the beach."

  The boys' mother hesitated. "Won't you come in?" she asked.

  "Thank you," Keith replied. "But I'm afraid this isn't a social call. You see, I found your boys filming at the lighthouse—or planning to, that is. It isn't safe around there. There've been rock slides recently."

  "Oh," Marsha Booth looked relieved. "Then all you have to do is to tell Alfie to keep away and he'll keep away."

  Keith Raynor shook his head. "I tried that. It didn't work. I wouldn't want to suggest anything since we've just met, but maybe the boys need more supervision — if you know what I mean."

  "Yes, I'm afraid I do," the boys' mother replied. "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Raynor. I'll make sure they won't bother you again."

  "Thank you. Good-bye, Mrs. Booth." Keith got up and started for the door.

  "Mr. Raynor!" Leonard hurried after him and tugged at Keith's sleeve. He lowered his voice. "We can still light the fireworks, can't we?"

  Keith hesitated. He looked at Leonard's eager face. "Oh, I guess so… before you leave."

  Leonard beamed. "Good-bye, Mr. Raynor. We'll see you Labor Day."

  But when Leonard went back in the house, his smile faded. A very serious-looking parent faced her two sons.

  "I know I depend on you boys a lot to take care of yourselves," she began, looking from Alfie to Leonard. "Maybe too much. But you know I can't be with you all day."

  Alfie and Leonard for the second time that morning looked down at their sneakers. And Watson turned his back on everybody, as though the whole scene was too
much for him.

  "So," Mrs. Booth continued, "since you can't seem to take care of yourselves, I'll just have to find someone to help." She picked up the local newspaper and turned to the want ads.

  Alfie made a long face.

  "You needn't look that way," his mother said. "You brought this on yourself. Anyway, an older playmate will be good for you."

  "Playmate! You mean baby-sitter!" Alfie said.

  Marsha Booth grinned. "That's what I mean," she answered cheerfully.

  She looked back at the newspaper. "Hmm! Here's a possibility — Jean Wyndham, sixteen, experienced dog-walker, piano teacher, surfboard sander, mother's helper, baby-sitter. Fifty cents an hour, 203 Main Street." She circled the ad.

  "She sure can do a lot of things," Leonard said.

  "But nothing we can use," Alfie added quickly, at the same time giving Leonard a nudge in the ribs.

  "Why not?" Marsha Booth said. "A mother's helper is just what I'm looking for. Let's go, boys."

  "Wyndham," Alfie muttered. "That's the sheriff's name. This Jean person probably belongs to his family. And she's probably a jailer-type."

  "Maybe she's only a distant relative," Leonard said hopefully.

  But hope faded when the Booths and Watson arrived at 203 Main Street. The man mowing the small front lawn was none other than the sheriff himself. Alfie looked alarmed. "Mom, are you sure you want to do this?"

  "Certainly, I'm sure," his mother answered, and proceeded up the front walk.

  Sheriff Wyndham looked up and cut the power on the mower.

  "I'm Marsha Booth," Mrs. Booth said smiling. "We're looking for Jean Wyndham. The ad in the newspaper gave this address."

  "You're at the right place, all right," the sheriff replied. He turned toward the house. "Jeanie," he called. Then he turned back to Marsha Booth. "Is this for dog-walker, piano teacher, mother's helper, or surfboard sander?" He grinned.

  "Mother's helper," Marsha Booth replied.

  A tall deeply tanned girl with long straight hair came out of the house and down the steps.

  "Mrs. Booth, here, is interested in a mother's helper, Jeanie," the sheriff said.

  "Hi, Mrs. Booth." Jean Wyndham smiled.

  "And here are Alfie and Leonard," the sheriff continued with the introductions. "I met them yesterday. And I guess you already know Trouble."

  Leonard scowled. "Watson," he said, not quite under his breath.

  Jean bent down and patted the small dog. "Hiya, Watson!"

  She couldn't have done a nicer thing. Leonard's scowl disappeared.

  "Jean," Mrs. Booth began, "I'm a writer and I've a deadline to meet. So I just can't spend all the time with the boys I'd like to. It would be a big help to me if you could go around with them — play with them as a friend."

  Alfie rolled up his eyes in despair, but Jean Wyndham didn't seem to notice. "Sure, Mrs. Booth. That'd be great." She turned to Alfie. "Are you the film maker my dad was telling me about?"

  Alfie nodded in a haughty sort of way. "Yes. I'm making a movie."

  Jean smiled. "I've always wanted to be in the movies. Do you think you could work in a part for me?"

  Alfie's eyebrows lifted slightly. "What acting experience have you had?" he asked coolly.

  "Oh, lots! I was Desdemona in our high school play Othello last year, just to name one thing."

  Alfie didn't want to appear too interested, so he just said, "Okay. I'll try you. But remember, I said try. This isn't a contract."

  A plan was forming in Alfie's mind. Maybe this mother's helper was a blessing in disguise. He needed a girl to play the part of Dracula's victim, and Jean Wyndham was pretty, he had to admit. "I'll begin filming tomorrow morning," he thought to himself. "We'll film on the beach with the lighthouse and the rocks for a background."

  CHAPTER 5

  The next morning when Jean arrived at the beach cottage, Alfie set his plan into action. "I think you'd better wear your swimming suit," he said to Jean. "And if you have a beach robe, that'll be good. I want you to look kind of angelic — and kind of toothsome too."

  Jean nodded. "Toothsome for Leonard's fangs, I expect. Sure Alfie."

  Alfie looked pleased. "That's it. And follow what I say, Jean. You know it takes a great director to make a great actress." He looked around at Leonard. "And that goes for you too, Dracula. Follow my direction."

  Leonard blinked. "Alfie, you're never going to make a great actress out of me."

  "You know what I mean, Leonard," Alfie said sternly. "Now go get your fangs and cape while Jean gets on her swimming suit. I'd like to catch the morning sun so I can get some interesting shadows."

  The place Alfie chose for filming was on the beach near the lighthouse steps. "Now I'm going to switch back and forth between you for shots. Leonard's a little short for you, Jean. But I'll zoom in on both of you for the close-ups."

  He reached in his pocket and handed Jean a small gold cross. "Here. When Dracula bends over your throat, you screech and hold this up. Everybody knows Dracula is powerless when a cross comes between him and his victim." He paused. "Now, Leonard — when Jean holds it up, you step back in horror."

  "Why?" asked Leonard.

  "Because the power of goodness is stopping you and you can't stand it."

  "Okay, now. Positions, everybody. Action."

  In spite of Alfie's clear instructions, when Jean screamed and held up the cross, Leonard looked at it, shrugged his caped shoulders, and walked away.

  "Leonard! What do you think you're doing?" Alfie exclaimed angrily.

  "I'm shocked and I step back in horror — just like you said," Leonard answered.

  Alfie groaned. "But you're not showing it! How can you look shocked by just bumping up your shoulders?" He twitched his own shoulders up and down and Jean giggled.

  Leonard whirled away. "I never wanted to play your old Dracula anyhow," he burst out.

  "Aw, Leonard, you can do it. Look. Watch me." Alfie swooped up to Jean, stopped suddenly, hissed in horror, and flung himself on the sand. "See, Leonard? I'm showing I'm completely stopped by the power of goodness."

  "Okay." Leonard answered quickly. "You be the one to get stopped. I'll call 'action.'"

  Above them, in the storage room of the lighthouse, Noah Baxter was having harder problems even than Alfie. He had the job of hooking up a charge of explosives to the practice safe — and he was in a bad mood.

  "Getting fireworks for those kids was stupid," he snapped at Keith. "For one thing, they're illegal. And for another, I don't want the kids here anytime — that goes for Labor Day too."

  Keith Raynor shrugged. "You don't see them hanging around here, do you? Telling them they could come on Labor Day is why you're having privacy now. And as far as fireworks being illegal — what you're doing now isn't exactly legal, is it?"

  Noah glared at him angrily. Instead of glaring back, Keith pointed to his workroom on the top of the lighthouse. "Right now," he said, "I'm worrying more about that charge going off. I've got a lot of valuable things up there, including a certain very hot necklace."

  Noah scowled. "Will you stop it? I'm the best explosives man on the West Coast. I can do this blindfolded."

  Keith eyed the fuse Noah was handling. "Maybe you can, but I think I'll just take a walk — check the car, or something."

  "Nothing is going to happen," Noah retorted. He struck a match. "All you have to do is cover your ears. One pop, and that's it." He lighted the fuse.

  Down on the beach the director and the cast of Dracula heard a heavy boom. Watson dived into Leonard's cape.

  "What was that!" Jean Wyndham exclaimed. She jumped up.

  Leonard pointed up toward the lighthouse. "There's a lot of black smoke."

  "Dracula's Castle!" Alfie exclaimed. "Something's happening to it!"

  "And maybe something's happening to Mr. Raynor," Leonard quavered.

  Jean didn't hesitate. She rushed toward the steps, Alfie, Leonard, and Watson at her heels.

  Black smoke a
nd dust clouds were still rolling from the storage-room windows as they reached the top step. Jean darted for the door. As she put her hand on the doorknob, the door was flung back. Keith Raynor and Noah Baxter, both smoke-blackened, staggered out.

  "Are you all right?" Jean gasped.

  "Okay," Keith Raynor replied, quickly blocking her view through the open door. "I — I was lighting the stove. I guess there must have been a gas leak, and gas had built up."

  "Everything's under control," Noah added.

  "We heard it all the way down on the beach," Alfie panted. "What a shot! If I'd only had my camera ready!"

  Noah Baxter laughed unpleasantly. "We'll try to time it better for you next time." He suddenly whirled around. "Hey! That dog!"

  Watson was edging past Keith Raynor's legs and heading into the building.

  "I'll get him," Leonard said. He hurried forward. "Watson! Come back here!"

  Noah Baxter snatched Leonard by the cape. "You just stay here, kid. I'll get him." He strode off, calling "Watson! Come back here, you mutt!"

  Watson didn't bother to even look back. He trotted into the storage room, took one sniff, and proceeded up the staircase.

  On the top floor, something glinting in the sunlight caught Watson's attention — the Daumier necklace on Keith Raynor's drawing table. For a clearer view, Watson jumped on a chair.

  "You'd like that, wouldn't you, dog?" a hard voice said behind him. "Even better than the car keys." Watson felt himself being swooped up and swiftly carried down the stairs he had just climbed.

  In no time, Noah was back in the doorway with Watson under his arm. He tossed the little dog to the ground. "Here's your mutt," he said. "G'bye."

  "Can we help you clean up?" Jean asked politely.

  "No, it's not that bad," Keith Raynor replied. He stepped back into the building.

  "G'bye," Noah said again, and swung the door shut.

  "Well!" Jean exclaimed indignantly.

  They looked at each other, shrugged, and turned away. All but Watson. He was scratching at the closed door. "Come on, Watson," Leonard said, pulling him away. "We're going home."