by Kin Platt
His bushy white eyebrows flew up. “Why, the Murdocks, of course,” he said drily.
I didn’t expect that. Just like I didn’t expect a lot of other things Mr. Pickering said later. The truth is, he very much outclassed me.
“But isn’t he supposed to be dead? I mean, Big Nick Murdock.”
Mr. Pickering looked down his long thin nose. It had a high bony ridge. Even though he was old. He looked tough. Like one of those colonists you’ve seen pictures of at the Battle of Bunker Hill.
“He might be presumed to be dead,” he said slowly. “But absence, in itself, is no proof of death. Therefore, he might just as well be presumed to be alive.”
“Huh?” I said.
“I give you the case of Rip Van Winkle, a gentleman who fell asleep for twenty years. Assumed to be dead but proven otherwise. I might also submit the considerable island tenure of a notorious castaway, one Robinson Crusoe, another we might have believed dead. Again a faulty conclusion based on insufficient evidence.”
“You mean after forty years you don’t consider Nick Murdock dead?”
He smiled. “My opinion would scarcely qualify as fact,” he said. “Possibly you have produced new evidence. The corpus delicti,” he added thoughtfully.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Literally, from the Latin, the body of the crime. Erroneously, the body of the victim of a murder. Legally, the basic facts necessary to the commission of a crime, as, in murder, the actual death of the person alleged to have been murdered.” His clear blue eyes looked at me intently. The meaning of words was important to Mr. Pickering. He wanted me to get everything straight.
I shook my head. “What if he’s not murdered? What if he just died and nobody knew where to look for him? What if he fell off a mountain someplace?” I wasn’t sure if I’d made a point or not. “That way he’s missing and dead and not murdered.”
“The production and identification of the body would still be necessary,” Mr. Pickering said. “However, if there is a legitimate question arising as to his precise corporeal status, the statute of limitations might be invoked.”
I loved the way everything he said came out as if it were a separate language.
Mr. Pickering waved one of his big hands. “Professional mumbo jumbo,” he said. “Attorneys conceal the fact that they have nothing to say by erecting a barrier of legal terms. It confuses the layman and insures us of work. Sometimes I wonder exactly what I’m saying myself.”
“Does it mean there’s some sort of a time period?”
He nodded, pleased. “If due cause were shown,” he said, “If a condition were to arise upon which action could be brought, requiring proof as to the actual existence or nonexistence of the person or persons sought.” His cold blue eyes bored into mine. “Is this our problem today?”
I shook my head. “What do you mean by due cause or a condition?”
Mr. Pickering drummed his strong fingers on the desk. “Some civil or criminal action suggesting the missing person is guilty of some negligent or criminal act and must stand trial.”
“And what if they can’t find this missing person?”
He shrugged. “It would be up to the court to adjudicate the matter in absentia.” He winked at me. “That means to decide or settle it in his absence.”
“So it doesn’t even matter if he’s really dead or not,” I said. “He might not want to show up and yet everybody might consider him dead.”
Mr. Pickering coughed. “Not everybody,” he said gently.
“Uh huh,” I said. “Yeah, I know. Boy!”
Mr. Pickering laced his fingers together again.
“Now, as to the prior question. The ownership of Captain Billy’s castle, as you call it. You probably are not aware that large estates such as this can exist in perpetuity.”
I nodded to show him I could figure out the word.
He jabbed a long finger toward me. “Providing,” he said, “providing the property right is not legally disputed and found in error by plaintiff litigation. Also providing there is on hand sufficient disbursable funds in the estate for such mundane matters as taxes and maintenance.”
“Uh huh,” I said.
“As the Murdock estate lawyer and executor of the trust,” he said, “I can assure you the latter contingencies can easily be met. The estate is grossly figured and computed to be worth at least a million dollars.”
I figured that was without counting Captain Billy’s treasure. Then I suddenly realized Mr. Pickering had something I hadn’t even imagined or considered.
“You mean you’re Big Nick Murdock’s lawyer!”
He didn’t look that old, even with that thin white hair.
“I’m eighty-five years old,” Mr. Pickering said drily. “I had other clients before Mr. Murdock.”
“Say, do you know Peter Newbury?” I asked suddenly.
His long face softened into happy creases. “One of my dearest friends. Of course, Peter is just a baby. I’ve got five years on him.”
I was glad to hear they were old friends. They sort of went together. Two real nice old courteous gentlemen. I liked knowing Mr. Newbury and Gideon Pickering, and, of course, Mrs. Teska. They might all be old but they certainly weren’t feeble. Mentally, anyway.
“He just bought an old coin from me,” I said.
“Are you the boy?” he asked, kind of surprised and delighted. “Peter called me about that.”
“I guess he thinks I’m pretty stupid,” I said glumly.
“Not a bit,” Mr. Pickering said. “At least he didn’t mention the fact,” he added.
“Getting back to your Nick Murdock,” I said. “Did you ever see him yourself afterward? I mean, after the River Queen caught on fire and disappeared?”
Mr. Pickering let out a long sigh. “Dear me,” he murmured. “So many questions. And we still haven’t so much as hinted at a proper consultation fee.”
“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I’m broke. Except for that money from the old coin which I need for somebody else.”
Mr. Pickering kept looking at me and then I had a sudden commercial thought: “Unless you need a boy part-time.”
“Can you type legal papers?” he asked severely.
“No, sir.”
“Then we may consider the question of part-time employment withdrawn,” he said. “Do you perhaps intend the pursuit of the law yourself as a career, young man?”
If I’d answered yes, he might have offered me the job. Sort of to spur me on. He seemed to be that kind of decent person. But I couldn’t lie to him.
I looked around the room. It was a nice dignified room with a lot of charm and everything fit and was in place. But I didn’t know if I’d ever have the kind of shrewd intelligence and wisdom and bearing of a gentleman that Mr. Gideon Pickering had.
I looked at all the letters and papers on his desk. That meant he had to be a businessman too and I didn’t know if I could work out that way, either.
The top letter had foreign stamps on it. They could have come from France or Italy. Maybe if I knew more about stamps or old coins I’d be able to get a good steady job at Peter Newbury’s until I found out what I’d really like to do. And that seemed as if it could take forever, too, I thought.
All this time Mr. Pickering waited.
“No, sir,” I finally said. “Maybe I might turn out to be an architect someday. I like old houses. That’s why I wanted to know about Captain Billy’s castle. Who owned it or if it was for sale or rent or anything. At least that’s part of it.”
“What’s the other part?” he asked.
“It’s all so mysterious,” I said. “At that real estate office, for instance, they first pretended they never heard of it. Then they didn’t know anything. Then they suddenly remembered you could give me the information.”
“They?” he asked. He liked his facts straight always.
“Some red-headed girl there. I interrupted her typing,” I added.
“That
would be Miss Wilson,” he chuckled silently, like it was an inside joke. “A very efficient person.”
He reached into his vest pocket and took out a thin gold watch. He snapped the case open, looked, snapped it shut, and put the watch back into his pocket. Even on a warm day like this was, Mr. Pickering wore a vest. I didn’t think it was poor circulation. An attorney had to look like one.
“Well, sir, I believe we have covered the question arising out of person or persons missing and that of absentee ownership,” he said with a slight smile. “An attorney’s time is seldom his own, as you may know. Now, is there anything else you might wish to know before we terminate this delightful meeting?”
It came out almost without thinking. “Did you ever know an Anna Myszka?” I asked him.
“Anna Myszka, Anna Myszka,” he repeated softly. He seemed to be in deep thought and while he was thinking he didn’t take his eyes off me once.
The way that went over proved to me I’d never be a good lawyer or D.A. unless Mr. Pickering, after about fifty years of arguing in court, was used to all kinds of sudden surprises.
“It’s possible,” he admitted at last, “but I don’t think so. My memory may be a fault. Is it vital or extremely important that I should know that name?”
“If you’re Big Nick Murdock’s lawyer,” I said, “you ought to know he married her.”
His blue eyes were steady and unwinking. “Ought I?” he murmured. “Ought I indeed! Ought I remember all of them?”
“All of them?” I said. “You mean he had a lot of wives?”
He smiled. “Counsel is not permitted to answer such questions as might put his client in an unfavorable light. Counsel, in rendering duties of a legal nature to client, must execute his services with skill, diligence, and prudence.” He drummed his long fingers on the desk.
“I get it,” I said. “You’re not talking.”
He shook his head. “However, if what you allege is true, there would certainly be documents on file in the office of the county clerk, that would establish the fact beyond any peradventure of doubt.”
“I guess so,” I said, numbly.
Mr. Pickering raised a knobby finger. “I might also add, son, at my age one learns to distrust his memory. In certain everyday matters it performs quite reasonably and at times efficiently, as it should. But in others—” He made a wide helpless gesture with his big hands. He picked up the phone and spoke into it. “Miss Masters,” he said, “Do I know or did I at one time know an Anna Myszka?”
He waited and winked at me. “You see what I mean?” Then he spoke into the phone again. “Yes. Well, it seems this young Forrester gentleman wished to know. I’ll take your word for it. Thank you.” He hung up. “My secretary says she believes I do not.”
I couldn’t believe it. Was Mrs. Teska lying?
If Mr. Pickering was Murdock’s lawyer, it seemed to me he’d know Anna Myszka’s name. Unless it really was too long ago to remember. Anyway how would that girl outside know? She was too young.
“Maybe you can tell me, Mr. Pickering, just one more thing, please.”
“Very well,” he said shortly. “One more thing.”
“Can anybody get into Captain Billy’s castle?”
“I assume you mean without invitation,” he said.
“Like that,” I said.
“Hardly,” he snorted. “At least not without my knowledge or consent. The house is not up for sale or rent so there are no visitors. No antiquarian society tours. Of course the estate is maintained. Kept up, so to speak. Cleaned, at suitable intervals, and so forth.”
I hated to think of anybody snooping around there and accidentally blundering on the secret treasure I was sure Captain Billy left.
“Well, how do you know for sure?”
“I wish I could give you more time,” he said, “but I do have an important appointment. However—” He unlocked and reached into a drawer of his desk. He withdrew something. “There are two keys to the house,” he said. “The real estate office of Mints and Marks has one. It is allowed out of their office once a month or whenever cleaning services are required, it is then promptly returned.”
He opened his hand and showed me the key it held. “This one I have here in my hand is the only other one. It remains here, at all times, locked in this drawer.”
I looked at it. It was a long black iron key. The kind that only fits a big padlock. It looked familiar. Mr. Pickering put it back into the drawer, which he locked, and then put the drawer key back in his pocket. “There,” he said. “I trust that answers that question.”
I hated to contradict Mr. Pickering. But I knew there was another key. A third key. Only where had I seen it? When?
Then I remembered. I was on my knees in the back room of the store, the morning after it had been broken into. I was looking at the old photo of that young girl and Big Nick Murdock when I saw Mrs. Teska suddenly stoop down and pick up just such a key and put it into her top drawer. I remembered exactly what she’d muttered: that it was the key to her castle!
If she was married to Big Nick Murdock, like she said, then she probably lived in that big house. In Captain Billy’s castle. So, naturally, she would have the key to it.
Then I thought of all the silver dollars she’d given me. She used to laugh and tell me she had a secret silver mine someplace. Was it possible Mrs. Teska had discovered the secret treasure?
I thanked Mr. Pickering for taking all that time with me, answering my dumb questions, and got up to go. He shook hands and showed me to the door.
As we got there he stopped and frowned.
“As I said before, my memory has proven faulty at times. I preface what I have to tell you with that apology. However, I believe I do recall something about the woman whose name you mentioned earlier.”
“Anna Myszka?” I asked happily.
“I believe that was her name,” he said.
“You mean she did marry Big Nick Murdock, your client?” I said.
He shook his head. “I wasn’t referring to that. I seem to remember a girl by that name who worked for us a long time ago.”
“Worked for you?”
“Indirectly,” he said. He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Yes, by George, I’m quite certain of it now. This Anna Myszka used to work in the place you call Captain Billy’s castle.”
“What do you mean she worked there?”
“She used to be the cleaning girl,” he said.
CHAPTER 32
Mystery Of The Mixed Up Detective
My head felt like it was full of wool. Usually they say reeling, but it didn’t feel reeling. Just awfully fuzzy.
After leaving Mr. Pickering, I needed some facts so I stopped off at the library, found an encyclopedia and turned to a section that was headed: Codes and Ciphers.
I studied it with all the concentration I had because I had a peculiar feeling that time was running out on me. When the next thing happened I wanted to be prepared.
I’m glad I did because I finally got to understand how codes and ciphers worked. Even though I thought I’d already solved a big one. About getting out of the cave.
Then I found a book about tunnels and read how, in the eighth century B.C., the Assyrian queen, Semiramis of Babylon, had her engineers build a tunnel under the Euphrates River, connecting her palace with the Temple of Marduk. She did this so she wouldn’t get her feet wet walking to worship at the time of the spring floods.
The Greeks built tunnels under water, too, and so did the early Romans, way back to Hadrian’s Aqueduct, which was begun in A.D. 115, was fifteen miles long, and took six years to build.
The reason I got so interested in tunnels was because the riddle of Jonah Jaws was in my mind. I figured if Queen Semiramis could do it, and Hadrian could do it, maybe Captain Billy had a trick up his sleeve too.
When I got back to the house I had a quick conference with man’s best friend. Sinbad hadn’t been consulted all day but he wasn’t the type to bear a grudge. He
lay and listened and didn’t interrupt once.
“Okay,” I said. “What do we know for sure?”
I put the facts in order, the way I remembered them:
1. On Friday morning Mom and Pop went up to Maine leaving you and me here together. That’s a fact.
2. On the way back from school that day I bumped into two men coming out of Mrs. Teska’s store. Fact.
3. When I got inside she was crying and upset. Fact.
4. She had a little folded slip of paper in her hand. Was it the IOU I found later signed by her son, Frankie? I don’t know. Was it anything else? Same answer. I don’t know.
5. Later that night I found the IOU in the icebox. Fact.
6. Later that night those same two guys came back. Another fact. You scared them away. Fact.
7. I never found out what they came in for. Fact.
8. Later that night you tried to tell me something was wrong up at Mrs. Teska’s. You were right. Fact.
9. By next morning, Saturday, her store had been broken into. Fact. The IOU note was missing from the icebox. Fact. Did Mrs. Teska take it back? I don’t know. Did those two guys take it? I don’t know. Did they break into the store in the first place, like I’ve always felt? Real answer, I don’t know.
10. Mrs. Teska showed me the picture. She said the girl was her. Did I believe it? No. Why? Because she blocked out Big Nick Murdock’s side of it. The only fact is I saw the picture on the floor in her back room, period.
11. When I asked her about who broke in and why, she blamed it on her kum. Fact.
12. Also I saw her pick up a long black iron key. Fact. Was it the same key Mr. Pickering showed me today? I’m not sure. It looked like it. So we’ll put a question mark for the key of Mrs. Teska.
13. Later that day I bumped into Sheriff Landry. He didn’t know about the store break-in. She hadn’t called him. Double fact. He said I could be one of the suspects because I was the only other person who knew where the key was. Fact.
14. After leaving Sheriff Landry we had a free gift of some poisoned meat for you. Maybe for me, too. Who said it was poisoned? Mr. Maytag and Mr. Beller, the pharmacist. Double fact.