The Billionaire's Curse

by Richard Newsome

  Gerald’s ears pricked up.

  “Lost an eye?” he said.

  The major broke his silence.

  “Thank you, Leggett,” he said in his rumbling voice. “No need to gild the lily, eh?”

  He trained his one good eye on Gerald.

  “Took a piece of shrapnel while storming a machine-gun post.” He tapped his left eyeball with a fingernail. It emitted a hollow click. “Got a good collection of glass ones now.” The major turned to face the inspector. “What this young chap probably overheard was my plans for the diamond anniversary midsummer’s bash that Mother’s hosting down at Beaconsfield this weekend. Beaconsfield,” he explained to the inspector, “is the family pile down near Glastonbury.”

  “I see,” said the inspector. “Diamond anniversary of what exactly?”

  “It’s seventy-five years since…well, blowed if I can remember, but Mother’s on top of the detail. You must come down for the party and stay the weekend, Inspector. You’ll be there, won’t you, Mason? Mother would be most pleased.”

  Green cocked an eyebrow. “Yes indeed. Sounds very interesting.”

  Gerald was stunned that the major seemed to be wheedling his way out of any investigation. Inviting the police to his party!

  “But what about the diamond box?” Gerald blurted out. “You said you’d find it under the peak of eternal light or something.”

  The porter let out another outraged cry.

  The major held up a hand. “No, it’s all right, Leggett. Didn’t lose my eye defending freedom to have youngsters told to shut up. You misunderstood, young man.” He crossed to the inspector and urged him to take a seat. “I was lunching with young Arthur Chesterfield today—a good sound chap, you know, one of us. Mother has a party game planned for Midsummer’s Eve and I mentioned I was still looking for the box where it’s stored. I was complaining about the lack of infernal light under the stairs. That’s all.”

  Gerald began, “But that’s not what—”

  The inspector lost his patience. “So we’re all here because of some party plans?”

  “Um…” Gerald fumbled.

  Inspector Parrott turned to the major and Lord Herring. “I am sorry to have wasted your time, gentlemen. A most regrettable—”

  Gerald couldn’t stand it any longer. The events of the past few days bubbled over.

  “He did say he had the diamond. He did. And look.” He crossed to the chair where the major had been sitting and scooped up a packet from an ashtray. “He smokes Dunhills. The same ones we found under the museum. He smokes the same brand as the diamond robbers. I guess a lot of people smoke them…filthy habit…possibly hundreds of thousands of people, but still…it’s all there. And the thin man had a knife at my back and he threatened to stab me….”

  Gerald looked desperately at the faces that were now all staring at him. He pointed to Constable Lethbridge. “He was there. He saw the man with the knife. Only the knife was hidden so he couldn’t see it. The man was going to kill me. Unless I told him about the diamond box. Just like he killed my great-aunt. Only Ruby saved me before he could do it. But he would have done it…because he said he was going to.” Gerald’s voice trailed off to a whisper. He realized he sounded demented.

  He managed to mumble, “Well, it’s true,” before slumping defeated onto the sofa between Sam and Ruby.

  Major Pilkington winked at the porter. “Australian,” he muttered.

  The inspector cleared his throat. “Yes, I don’t think we need delay ourselves here any further.”

  He thanked the major for his kind invitation to the party and apologized once more to Lord Herring.

  “But what about this lot?” Herring protested, pointing at Gerald, Ruby, and Sam. “We can’t have people trespassing and running riot around the club. It’s bad enough with women wanting to become members, but children! Can’t they be prosecuted?”

  Sir Mason stepped in. “I hardly think we need go that far, Redmond,” he said. “It sounds like a misunderstanding, that’s all. Young Gerald has had a difficult few days, what with the death of his great-aunt. You remember Geraldine Archer, don’t you?”

  Lord Herring and the major both gasped.

  “You’re that kid,” Herring said. “You inherited the Archer fortune?”

  The major sniffed. “All new money, of course,” he said with evident distaste.

  Herring frowned. “Well, I expect we can make an exception in this case,” he said.

  Green was delighted. “Excellent. If Gerald is anything like his great-aunt, he’s a first-rate chap. Who knows, Redmond, perhaps one day he’ll be offered membership here.”

  Herring looked at Gerald as he might at the sole of his shoe after stepping in dog poo. “I very much doubt that.”

  On the steps outside the Rattigan Club, Inspector Parrott held court over Gerald, Sam, and Ruby.

  “Right, you three, your detective days are over. Do I make myself clear?”

  They nodded.

  A wry smile formed on Sir Mason’s face. “Don’t be too harsh, Inspector. After all, they discovered how the thief got in and out of the museum. And they recovered the statue of Ganesha, which must count for something.”

  The inspector was not convinced. “They’re lucky they haven’t been charged with disturbing a crime scene and removing vital evidence,” he said. “I’ve got enough on my plate without having to deal with amateurs.”

  “I’m sure they’ll promise to get on and enjoy their holiday now,” Green said.

  The inspector grunted something under his breath, then he and Constable Lethbridge marched off in the direction of the museum.

  “Sir Mason?” Gerald said. “If that diamond is so famous and can never be sold on the open market, why would anyone want to steal it?”

  Green pushed himself upright on his walking stick and pondered the question. “Greed can be a dangerous master, Gerald,” he said. “If it takes hold, it can make people do shocking things—things they would never otherwise contemplate. And do you know what else?”

  “What?” Gerald said.

  Green nodded his head back toward the front doors of the Rattigan Club. “It’s a curse that doesn’t discriminate between the classes.”

  A deep-blue Bentley pulled up to the curb like a motor launch easing into its berth at a quay. A squat man dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform leaped from the driver’s seat and trotted around to open the passenger-side door.

  “I’d offer you a ride but I’m afraid I have some business to attend to in the city,” Green said, shaking each of the children by the hand. “I know the inspector said to leave the detecting to him, but if I recall my own childhood that sounds more like an invitation than a warning.” Green grinned as if a distant memory had just returned to him. “If you get yourself into a bind, or you find out anything interesting, you have my number.”

  Gerald smiled. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll spend the next few weeks kicking a ball in the park.”

  Green’s eyes shone mischievously. “Your great-aunt was a terrible liar too.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The black cab wound its way through the avenues of smart houses toward Geraldine’s place in Chelsea. Gerald, Sam, and Ruby sat slumped in the backseat, too exhausted to talk.

  Gerald broke the silence.

  “That was all a bit of fun, wasn’t it?”

  The twins grunted.

  There was silence again.

  “You guys doing anything much over summer?” Gerald asked. “You know, going away or something?”

  “Nothing much,” Ruby replied. “Our parents both work, so we’ll just hang around. How about you?”

  “After today I reckon I’ll be locked up in the very tallest tower of the castle.”

  Sam twisted around in his seat to look at Gerald. “Why didn’t you make the police believe you about the thin man?” he asked. “I mean, he stuck a knife in your ribs.”

  “What’s the point?” Gerald said. “You saw how they look
ed at me. They thought I was nuts. And do you blame them?”

  He sat sulking for a bit. “This is all a waste of time,” he said at last. “Why go looking for this diamond anyway? It’s not even mine. I’ve got a mountain of money, I’m in a new city in a new country with a couple of guides…why not just have some fun?”

  “What about the thin man?” Ruby said. “Aren’t you worried about him?”

  “No,” Gerald said, with more confidence than he felt. “He’s a weirdo who read something in the papers and wanted to scare some cash out of me. You guys chased him off—we won’t see him again. So what’s to worry about?”

  The cab rounded the corner onto Geraldine’s street. The mess from the pizza vans was long gone, and the TV crews had moved on to other news events. Which was a shame for them, because in their place now stood three fire engines. From the front windows and door of Geraldine’s house billowed a cloud of black smoke.

  Mr. Prisk cast a sorry figure in the dark study. It was two hours since the fire had been extinguished and the electricity was still off. The only light came from the late afternoon sun that found its way through the tall windows. Mr. Fry had pulled the curtains back and propped open the casements in a mostly unsuccessful effort to clear the acrid smell of smoke.

  “It looks like the fire started in your bedroom,” Mr. Prisk said, po-faced, to Gerald. “The firemen think it may have been an electrical fault. It’s fortunate that Mr. Fry came back from some errands in time to raise the alarm, otherwise we could have lost the building.”

  Gerald, Sam, and Ruby sat on a leather lounge in the center of the room. Fry stood by the window, his shadow long across the carpet.

  “What happens now?” Gerald asked, the bewilderment that had dogged him when he arrived in England returning like a fog roiling across his brain.

  “Well, you can’t stay here,” Mr. Prisk said. “The entire place will need to be cleaned, and there is major work to be done in your bedroom—it’s gutted.”

  Mr. Prisk paused, which gave Sam a chance to speak. “Gerald could stay at our place,” he said. “He could share my room. Till everything’s fixed here.”

  Gerald’s brain fog lifted. He beamed at Mr. Prisk.

  “That’s a great idea,” he said. “I’d be out of the way.”

  Mr. Prisk adjusted his glasses and looked hard at the Valentine twins.

  “That would not be appropriate,” he said.

  Gerald’s shoulders dropped.

  “Why not?” Sam replied, perhaps a little too sharply.

  “Because, my boy, in case you haven’t heard, Gerald is now the richest child in Europe. I hardly think any accommodation you could provide will have the privacy or the security he requires. I have no intention of allowing a repeat of this morning’s circus.”

  Sam slumped, joining Gerald at the back of the couch.

  “I have spoken with your parents,” Mr. Prisk said to Gerald, whose face reflected his thoughts about that news. “And we all agree that you should spend the rest of your holiday at Miss Archer’s house in the country. Though naturally, of course, it’s your place now.”

  Gerald moaned.

  “It’s quite suitable and you’ll have space to run around,” Mr. Prisk continued. “Six thousand acres, to be exact. You can’t get into too much trouble there.”

  Gerald lifted his gaze from the carpet.

  “So I get to spend my holiday stuck in some backwater by myself. Terrific. And let me guess: Mr. Fry will be looking after me?”

  A low sigh came from where Fry was standing by the windows.

  Mr. Prisk studied Gerald’s downcast face.

  “All right,” the lawyer ventured. “Let me see what I can arrange.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a lovely old place with plenty of room. There’s a swimming pool and a tennis court, horses to ride, a stream for fishing, woods to explore. You could take your friends with you.”

  “That sounds fantastic!” Ruby said. “Where is this place?”

  “The estate is called Avonleigh. It’s about three hours’ drive from here, just outside Glastonbury.”

  Gerald’s head jerked up.

  “Glastonbury?” he said. “It’s not anywhere near Beaconsfield, is it?”

  Mr. Prisk looked at Gerald in surprise.

  “Why, yes it is,” Mr. Prisk said slowly. “Avonleigh and Beaconsfield share a boundary. I’d say it would be a forty-minute walk down from the main house. How do you know about Beaconsfield?”

  Gerald smiled. “Just keeping tabs on the new fortune, Mr. Prisk.”

  The lawyer raised an eyebrow. Gerald grinned back, trying to look as innocent as possible. Mr. Prisk excused himself to call the Valentines’ parents, and Mr. Fry set off in search of a bucket and scrubbing brush.

  Once Mr. Prisk and Mr. Fry had gone, Gerald led Sam and Ruby down a smoke-stained hallway toward his bedroom.

  They stepped past piles of rolled-up, charred carpet that were still smoking. Soot clung to everything: the singed wallpaper, the blackened chandeliers, and the paintings on the walls. Outside Gerald’s room a fireman sprayed bursts of foam on the last of the embers.

  “Not much left, I’m afraid,” the fireman said, as Gerald poked his head around the door frame. “Looks like it took hold pretty quick.”

  Gerald gasped. His room was a blackened shell. The bed was a twisted mess: wrought iron bent like an enormous pretzel, the mattress a tangle of blackened springs. The furniture had been reduced to ash. The curtains were completely consumed. The ceiling was black, and water dripped everywhere. Gerald tiptoed into the room across to the closet. He reached into his pocket for the key but saw that the door was standing askew where the hinges had buckled from the intense heat. He tugged on the brass handle—it was still warm. With some effort he forced it open. Inside there was little damage, though his clothes stank of smoke. At the back of the closet, Gerald shoved the suitcase to one side and pulled up the corner of carpet.

  He looked at the bare floorboards.

  Sam and Ruby’s heads popped around the closet door behind him.

  “It’s gone,” Gerald said, stunned.

  “What’s gone?” Sam asked.

  Gerald turned around, his eyes burning.

  “The letter from Geraldine, all the papers, a bunch of envelopes I hadn’t even opened yet. I hid them all under there this morning.”

  “Burned in the fire, maybe?” Sam said.

  “No. The carpet isn’t even singed in here.”

  Ruby wrinkled her nose.

  “What’s that smell?”

  “Smoke, you idiot,” Sam said. “I think there’s been a fire.”

  Ruby ignored him. “No, that other smell.”

  Gerald sniffed the air, then looked down at his fingers. He rubbed the tips under his nose.

  “It’s like…bleach.”

  He picked up the corner of carpet again and smelled his fingers.

  “That’s what it is. Just like the smell from the—”

  “Thin man!” Sam exclaimed. The fireman across the room looked up from his work.

  “Ssshhh!” Ruby hissed.

  “What?”

  “Trust no one, remember?”

  Sam gave his sister a “whatever” look and turned to Gerald. “What does it mean?”

  Gerald looked at his friends. He had been ready to give up the search for the diamond and for the person who killed his great-aunt. But that smell of bleach…

  He rubbed his ribs where the thin man’s knife had pricked his skin that morning.

  “It means we’re going to the major’s party on Midsummer’s Eve,” Gerald said.

  Gerald spent the night at a hotel nearby. In the morning he pulled on the clothes he’d been wearing the previous day, rushed his breakfast, and hurried downstairs to find Fry waiting on the street outside. Ruby and Sam were in the back of the Rolls. Gerald climbed in beside them.

  “This is very nice,” Ruby said, pushing her shoulders into the
leather luxury of the backseat. “I could get used to this.”

  “I guess,” Gerald said. “But it has its drawbacks.”

  Fry dropped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. He flung his cap onto the passenger seat and flicked a switch on the dashboard. His muttering was silenced when the privacy screen behind his head reached the ceiling.

  Ruby tried to suppress a giggle.

  “Who is that guy?” Sam asked. “He hasn’t said a word to us since he picked us up.”

  Gerald shook his head. “You know how I inherited a bunch of stuff?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I got him as well.”

  The Rolls eased into the traffic and they started the journey out of London.

  “So your folks were okay with you coming away?”

  Ruby nodded. “Dad did some work with the Archer Foundation once. He spoke with Mr. Prisk and they were fine.”

  “You know how they are,” Sam said as he fiddled with the switches on the back of the front seat. A panel slid aside, revealing a TV screen. “Always wanting to know where you are, who you’re with.”

  Gerald had a vision of Vi and Eddie bolting from the church hall in a rush to board the jet to get to the super-yacht in the Caribbean.

  “Nope,” Gerald said. “Can’t say I’ve noticed it.”

  “Are your parents missing you, d’you think?” Ruby asked.

  Gerald chewed on this for a bit.

  “At the moment I’m thinking of adopting your parents,” Gerald said. “I’m part of the family, remember.”

  It didn’t take Fry long to have them out of London, and soon they were cruising along country roads.

  It was a brilliant sunny day and Gerald gazed out the window as hedgerows and stands of oak trees flashed by.

  Ruby broke into his reverie.

  “Major Pilkington is our bad guy, then?”

  Gerald shuffled around to face her.

  “Well, sure. He said he had the diamond locked away at Beaconsfield.”

  “I guess.”

  Sam looked at his sister.

  “What do you mean ‘I guess’?” he said. “How much more obvious can it get?”