Jonathon Wart and The Hand of Doom

by Terence O'Grady

  Chapter Nine: Butting Heads

  “Alright, Jonathon,” said Thumbs as he strode purposely into Jonathon's room, "I've already explained our position to your sister but I wanted to let you know directly about a decision that Felicia and I have recently made."

  Jonathon turned from his computer and nodded politely. "Of course, Mr. Thumbs. It's always good to hear about your decisions."

  "As you know, Felicia and I have become increasingly concerned about the dangers associated with having that horrible ‘Hand of Doom’ painting in the house.”

  "And what dangers would those be?" Jonathon asked mildly.

  “I’ve said from the beginning that that painting was dangerous and…”

  “I don’t actually remember that.”

  “Well, I did. I’m quite certain of it. I can’t in the world see what possessed you to acquire it.”

  “But I told you all along that I was interested in that painting, Mr. Thumbs. If you’ll recall, you gave me very clear permission to buy it. You gave me a limit of one thousand dollars but it turned out that I only needed five hundred.”

  “But I thought that you really wanted the ‘Acorn…” said Thumbs quickly.

  “I’m sorry…what was that, Mr. Thumbs? I didn’t quite hear.”

  “Nothing!” Thumbs blustered. “Absolutely nothing! The point is that now you’ve got that horrid ‘Doom’ painting and so what are we going to do with it?”

  Jonathon smiled. “I think it looks rather nice on display in the downstairs living room.”

  “Ah,” said Thumbs, beginning to wag his finger. “But that’s just the point. Just by being in the house, that painting is doing serious damage.”

  “Damage?” said Jonathon in his most puzzled tone. “Whatever could you mean by that?”

  “Didn’t your sister inform you of my discussion with her? I’m talking about the serious problems that have arisen since that painting has been under our roof. Things going missing…files disappearing…things like that.”

  “Oh, I see,” Jonathon said mildly. “I’m sorry you’ve been having difficulties, but I’m not sure what I can do about the situation.”

  “I’ll tell you what you can do, Jonathon, you can remove that horrible painting from the house immediately!”

  “But Mr. Thumbs! How can I do that? It’s an investment and I’m sure that Uncle Wart would want me to directly oversee all of my investments. He always said…”

  Thumbs grunted, crossing his arms across his chest. “Yes, I know all about what Uncle Wart would have wanted. But I’m telling you that the ‘Doom’ painting is dangerous and must be removed from this house.”

  “But Mr. Thumbs, is there any real evidence that the painting is causing any trouble? Things get lost all the time. Files can disappear any day of the week. I really don’t see how you can blame all of it on having a painting in the house…not unless there’s any proof of course.”

  “Now Jonathon, you know that painting had a bad reputation long before it came into this house. Still, I thought you might insist on proof that the painting is the cause of these problems and so I’ve arranged to provide it.”

  “Really, Mr. Thumbs? And how are you going to do that?”

  “Simple. I’ve contacted a professional in the field.”

  “A professional? In what field? Art history?”

  “Of course not,” said Thumbs. “In psychic investigation. She’s a medium.”

  “A medium what?” asked Jonathon innocently.

  “A medium, Jonathon—someone who can contact the spirit world! Don’t act dumber than you are!” growled Thumbs. “Her name is Madam Zambonini. She’s quite respected in spiritualist circles and she will determine if the painting is inhabited by evil spirits.”

  “Are you serious, Mr. Thumbs? I can’t believe that a man of your intelligence would fall for a carnival sideshow.”

  “Sideshow indeed!” said Thumbs angrily, raising himself up to his full height. “I’ll have you know that Madam Zambonini is fully certified as a medium.”

  “But how can you certify a fairytale?”

  Mr. Thumbs simmered. “The fact is, young man, that you don’t know everything there is to know about life. You should think twice before you question those who have more life experience than you do.”

  “So do you regularly consult mediums, Mr. Thumbs?”

  “Certainly I do, I….wait…that’s completely irrelevant to the matter at hand, Jonathon. I’m taking a perfectly normal precaution here. I’m…”

  “Hiring someone to get in touch with the spirits inhabiting a painting is normal?”

  “Yes, it is!” Thumbs growled angrily. “In a case like this, all possibilities must be investigated. And if Madam Zambonini comes to the conclusion that there are evil spirits inhabiting that painting…well, then, it must be removed from the house immediately. I’ve arranged to have her come to the house tomorrow night and conduct a séance. That is my last word on the subject, Jonathon, and so I’ll bid you a good day!”

  Mr. Thumbs swiveled and marched quickly out of the room as Jonathon tried to suppress a smile.

  Moments later, Jonathon walked jauntily into the living room to join Lizzie and Emma.

  “It’s official!” Jonathon said brightly as he flopped down into an overstuffed chair. “Thumbs and Felicia have gone bonkers!”

  “No, Jonathon. Mr. Thumbs has always been bonkers,” said Lizzie calmly. “And Felicia? I think she’d have to improve to be considered bonkers.”

  “Lizzy!” interjected Emma, smiling in spite of herself. “That’s not really a very nice thing to say about Mr. Thumbs…or about Felicia for that matter. After all, Mr. Thumbs is your financial advisor…”

  “Who’s out to ruin us,” interrupted Jonathon.

  “And Felicia is…” continued Emma.

  “A hopeless dork who wishes we were both dead,” interjected Lizzie.

  Emma shook her head. “You know that’s not really true, Lizzie. I will admit that she’d probably be happier if both you and Jonathon were out of the picture.”

  “Just what I said.”

  “Yes, but she’d never really do anything…I mean, you know…dramatic, to hurt you” insisted Emma.

  “What they’ve got planned now seems pretty dramatic to me,” said Jonathon.

  “And that is?” asked Emma.

  “They’re bringing in a spiritualist,” said Jonathon. “A medium…someone who talks to departed spirits. Her name is Madam Zambonini.”

  “Whatever for?” Emma asked.

  “It’s about the painting,” replied Jonathon. “Apparently there have been a few unexplained occurrences and Thumbs and Felicia naturally think it’s because there’s a haunted painting in the house.”

  Emma put her hand to her chin. “I don’t know about haunted, but I’d certainly vote for eerie. You yourself said that the painting was a little creepy.”

  “Sure,” said Jonathon, “but in a friendly sort of way. I’m actually growing somewhat fond of it. Anyway, Thumbs’ devious little plan is to have the spiritualist come in, declare the painting to be harboring various evil spirits and then make me get rid of it.”

  “You’re kidding,” said Emma. “But why? What’s the point?”

  Jonathon shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he’s really afraid of it, but I think that’s just an excuse. I think he’s mad that I outsmarted him and got him to buy that worthless ‘Acorn Rising’ painting.”

  Emma nodded. “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “I’m going to outsmart him again,” said Jonathon, breaking into a broad smile.

  “By doing what?” asked Lizzie.

  “I’m glad you asked, Lizzie, because you play a big role in my plan.”

  “I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” said Lizzie quietly.

  Emma frowned. “Please explain, Jonathon. What does Lizzie have to do?”

  “Very simple,” replied Jonathon. “She’s going to be the spiritualist.”


  “Wait,” said Emma. “I thought the spiritualist was named Madam Spontini…”

  “Zambonini,” interjected Jonathon.

  “Whatever,” said Emma. “But the point is that, whoever she is, she’s a real person and Lizzie can’t just step in and pretend to be her.”

  “She won’t be pretending to be Madam Zambonini,” said Jonathon. “She’ll be pretending to be Madam Zambonini’s niece, who’s also a medium and will be filling in for her because tomorrow Madam Zambonini’s mother will be ill and she’ll have to go and look after her.”

  “And how do you know her mother will be ill?” asked Emma.

  “Oh, she probably won’t be,” said Jonathon calmly. “I’ll give Madam Zambonini a call tomorrow—pretending to be Thumbs, of course—to tell her that the séance has been called off. Meanwhile, when the time comes, we’ll substitute Lizzie—suitably dressed and made-up of course—and have her conduct the séance.”

  Emma looked doubtful. “Do you really think that Thumbs will go for the switcheroo? You don’t think he’ll be suspicious?”

  “Not if we do a good job,” said Jonathon, turning to Lizzie, “and I’m sure Lizzie will do an excellent job.”

  Lizzie shook her head slowly. “I’m really not sure about this, Jonathon.”

  “You don’t have to be, Lizzie. I’m confident enough for both of us. I’ll prepare a script for you to use and all you’ll have to do is memorize it. But remember, it’s all got to seem natural and spontaneous.”

  “Jonathon,” said Lizzie. “I’m no actress. I’ve never been in a play in my life.”

  “You’ll be brilliant, Lizzie,” said Jonathon. “Won’t she be, Emma?”

  Emma sighed. “I sure hope so, Jonathon, for everybody’s sake.”

  Chapter Ten: The Séance

  “So why are we all in my room, Jonathon?” asked Lizzie, a worried expression plastered across her face.

  “Because this is where we make the great transformation,” said Jonathon confidently.

  Lizzie’s eyes narrowed. “Transformation into what?”

  “We turn Lizzie into a powerful medium who can contact the spirits and assure Thumbs and Felicia that the painting is not haunted at all…that it’s perfectly harmless.”

  Lizzie rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  “Now in order to get this done, Emma,” said Jonathon, as he turned in her direction, “we’re definitely going to need your help. Turning Lizzie into Madam Zambonini’s niece won’t be easy.”

  Lizzie gasped. “You’re going to make me into an old lady?”

  “Not that old, really, Lizzie. A niece could easily be twenty-something years old. We’re just going to have to age you a little bit and of course we’re going to have to make you look really weird. It really shouldn’t be that difficult.”

  “Jonathon!” exclaimed Lizzie. “That’s not funny. I’m not even sure I want to do this.”

  “And I’m not at all sure it’s a good idea,” objected Emma, a pained expression crossing her face. “What makes you think that Lizzie can pull this off? None of us really knows what goes on in a séance.”

  “Very true,” replied Jonathon, “but neither do Thumbs or Felicia. If we can do something resembling a TV sitcom version of a séance, they’ll probably fall for it.”

  “But what if they don’t, Jonathon? What if they see right through Lizzie’s disguise?”

  “That’s where you come in, Emma. You’ve done some makeup work for the local community theatre, right?”

  “Right, but…”

  “So it’ll be a snap. Remember, we’re not dealing with the two most perceptive people on the planet. And if by some weird chance they see through Lizzie’s act, we’ll just say it’s all a joke and we were just trying to have a little fun with them.”

  “Hmm,” said Emma slowly. “I don’t think that will be Mr. Thumbs’ idea of a good time.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, Emma. Nothing is Mr. Thumbs’ idea of a good time. Lizzie will be great. Just wait and see.”

  Emma sighed. “Well, okay, I guess. Let’s give it a shot, if Lizzie is willing.”

  Lizzie sighed deeply. “I guess so,” she said weakly.

  Emma sat Lizzie down on the chair in front of the mirror in her room.

  Minutes later, Lizzie stared into the mirror and saw someone she would never have recognized in a million years. Her face was lined, her eyebrows darkened and her eyes swimming in purple eye shadow, her hair teased up into a peculiar bouffant, and her ears sporting huge earrings that bounced off her shoulders. Her long dress was black with purple glitter sprinkled throughout.

  “Oh my gosh, Lizzie,” said Jonathon, his mouth open in surprise. “You're not even recognizable, which I must say is an improvement.”

  “Jonathon!” exclaimed Emma. “How could you say that? Lizzie's doing this for you, you know, just to help make another of your crazy schemes actually work."

  Jonathon grinned, patting his sister gently on her shoulder. “Just kidding, Lizzie. You look adorable. And I do appreciate the fact that you’re willing to walk right into the lion’s den.”

  Emma nodded her head vigorously. “Yes, she's very brave, but her costume needs one more touch,” she said as she reached into her bag of costume accessories and pulled out a short black veil.

  “Not the veil again!” pleaded Lizzie, her eyes blinking.

  “Exactly,” said Emma, placing it carefully over Lizzie’s head and face. “With this on, I don’t think that anyone has a chance of recognizing you.”

  “But really…a veil?” questioned Lizzy. “Are there two people in the world who wear a veil?”

  “Any spiritualist or self-respecting medium might very well wear a veil,” explained Emma. “After all, you want that sense of mystery.”

  “Yeah,” said Jonathon, “but remember, Lizzy is supposed to be Madame Zambonini’s younger niece. I think she needs something a little hipper.”

  “Like what?” asked Emma.

  “Like these,” said Jonathon, producing some dark sunglasses from his back pocket and placing them on Lizzie.

  “Cool!” said Lizzie.

  “Maybe cool,” said Emma, “but can you actually see anything, Lizzie? I mean, with sunglasses and a veil, you might not be able to see your hand in front of your face.”

  “Oh, Lizzie doesn’t have to really see anything,” Jonathon said confidently. “She just has to project a sense of mystery and be convincing. And we’re just in time. Madame Zambonini is due any minute now so it’s time for her niece to spring into action.”

  “Spring?” Lizzie chirped. “I don’t think I can see well enough to spring anywhere.”

  “No problem, Lizzie,” replied Jonathon. “Just feel your way out the back door, go around to the front of the house, and ring the doorbell. It’s showtime!”

  Two minutes later, Thumbs and Felicia were sitting restlessly on the living room couch when the doorbell rang.

  Thumbs jumped to his feet. “Finally!” he cried. “Finally we’re going to get to the bottom of this ridiculous ‘Hand of Doom’ painting. Madam Zambonini comes highly recommended and I’m sure she’ll be able to tell us if the painting is really haunted and the cause of our misfortunes.”

  Thumbs moved quickly to the door, opening it as wide as possible.

  “Come in, Madam Zambonini!” he bellowed. “We’ve been expecting…”

  But seeing Lizzie in disguise, he stopped in mid-sentence.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “We were expecting Madam Zambonini.”

  “Oh, she couldn’t make it,” said Lizzie, using a high-pitched voice to make herself unrecognizable. “She had to go look after her mother who’s fallen ill.”

  “What’s that?” asked Felicia anxiously, having stepped up beside Thumbs.

  “She sent me in her place,” said Lizzie. “She told me that I’d have no trouble doing the job.”

  Thumbs stepped back. “Really? But we have a highly s
ensitive situation here. We need someone to get in touch with the evil spirits lurking in this canvas,” he said, pointing in the direction of the painting on the opposite wall.

  “No prob, Bob,” said Lizzie, her voice sounding a little too normal.

  “But you’re just a child,” said Felicia, clearly offended.

  “No, no!” insisted Lizzie eagerly. “I’m older than I look…I’m twenty-something.”

  “Huh?” grunted Thumbs. “What does that mean?”

  “I mean…I’m twenty-eight,” Lizzie insisted. “That’s it. I’m twenty-eight.”

  Thumbs narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Oh really?” he said. “And what exactly is your name?”

  “Oh,” said Lizzie, “I’m Madam Zambonini’s niece…I’m…”

  “Yes, but what is your name?” Felicia insisted.

  “My name? Why it’s…Madam Nini,” replied Lizzie confidently.

  “Madam Nini?” said Thumbs. “I’ve never heard of such a name.”

  “Oh, sure,” said Madam Nini. “It means...uh...little Madame Zambonini. I am her niece you know. And I'm ...well...not as big so…”

  “Huh?” grunted Mr. Thumbs.

  “Whatever,” said Felicia, rolling her eyes. “Can we just get on with this?”

  Just then, Jonathon and Emma walked quickly into the room. “I see the guest of honor has arrived!” Jonathon said brightly.

  “Well, yes, but…” Thumbs began uncertainly.

  “That’s just great!” continued Jonathon cheerfully. “Now we can finally uncover all the mysteries of this mysterious painting. But I do want to go on record right from the beginning that I think the painting is quite harmless. I don’t think it’s cursed or haunted and all the old stories about it are completely false. I’m thrilled to have this lady here to help us prove that. Shall we all sit down?”

  As Jonathon and Emma began to take their seats at the table that had been set up only feet from the ‘Doom’ painting, Thumbs gave Felicia an exasperated look.

  “What’ll we do?” Felicia whispered to Thumbs urgently. “I’m not at all sure about this spiritualist. Do you really think she knows what she’s doing?”

  Thumbs shrugged. “I don’t know…I suppose, if she’s really Madame Zambonini’s niece, she must have some powers as a medium…I guess.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Jonathon chirped. “I’m eager to get going.”

  Emma smiled at Lizzy. “We’re delighted to meet you, Madam Zambonini.”

  “This isn’t Madam Zambonini,” Thumbs said gruffly. “It’s her niece. Madam…Nini.”

  “Madam Nini,” said Emma cheerfully, “what a lovely name! I’m sure you’ll do a splendid job.”

  Thumbs and Felicia both sighed as they took their seats around the table, Madam Nini sitting at the head, directly across from the painting.

  Madam Nini spoke first. “I understand from my aunt that you want me to contact the spirits that may reside in this painting. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” Thumbs declared. “There are things we must know about this painting and we feel that only someone who can contact the spirits can tell us.”

  “What exactly do you want to know?” asked Madam Nini.

  “First of all,” said Thumbs, “we must know if old man Diggersby really painted the painting himself. If anyone ever had a disturbed spirit, it had to be that old man. Only a really pathetic case could have painted that horrible thing.”

  Madam Nini lowered her head. “I must have absolute quiet to contact the spirits,” she said softly. “And everyone must clear their minds completely. I must have no competing brainwaves.”

  Felicia furled her brow. “What does she mean, ‘competing brainwaves’?” she whispered to Thumbs.

  “Never mind!” Thumbs whispered back. “Just let her do her thing.”

  Madam Nini closed her eyes and began to chant nonsense syllables softly. Then she said, “Oh spirits of the painting, speak to me.”

  Nothing happened.

  “Uh, why can’t we hear anything?” asked Felicia. “Why isn’t the table moving or something?”

  “Oh, we don’t do the table-moving thing anymore,” replied Madam Nini. “Too hard on the furniture.”

  “Wait a minute…” Thumbs began.

  “Shh!” Madam Nini whispered. “I’m being contacted by the spirit of Mr. Diggersby.”

  “Really?” said Thumbs. “I can’t hear a thing.”

  “That’s because he’s contacting me,” whispered Madam Nini. “I’m the medium here.”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” said Thumbs more quietly. “Can you tell us what he’s saying?”

  Madam Nini closed her eyes again. “Yes,” she whispered. “It’s coming through clearly now.” She paused and put her hands over her head. “Yes, it’s very clear now. Mr. Diggersby said that he painted the painting and that it’s completely harmless.”

  “Aha!” shouted Thumbs. “Then if Diggersby painted the painting himself, it’s probably worthless!”

  “But she said the painting was harmless,” Felicia whispered to Thumbs. “I thought…”

  “Never mind about that now, Felicia,” Thumbs whispered back. “I’m still not convinced it’s harmless, but there are some other things I want to know about the painting.”

  “So if the painting is harmless,” Thumbs said to Madam Nini, “then why is there that scary-looking hand stretching across the front of it?”

  “Ah, for a deep question like that, I must consult my crystal ball,” Madam Nini said, pulling out a small, baseball-sized ball of clear crystal from her purse and putting it on the table in front of her.

  “That’s a crystal ball?” Thumbs said, peering closely at the object. “It looks more like a paperweight.”

  “Oh, it’s a real crystal ball all right,” Madam Nini replied. “My aunt loaned it to me.”

  Thumbs leaned forward eagerly. "Will we be able to see what the spirits say too?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Madam Nini answered. “You see, you've got to know how to read the spiritual ether. I mean, this is a high definition crystal ball and all that, but you've still got to have special training to see anything in it.”

  “And you have special training?” Felicia blurted out.

  Lizzie did her best to look insulted. “Of course I do. Madam Zambonini has trained me herself. She says that I'm her best pupil.”

  “How many pupils does she have?” Thumbs questioned.

  “Er…I'm actually her only pupil. Since I've gotten so good at reading her crystal ball, she decided that she didn't need any other students.”

  “Wow! That’s pretty impressive, Madam Nini,” Emma said enthusiastically.

  “Thank you,” said Madam Nini demurely. “I do my best.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s all very well and good,” said Thumbs impatiently, “but you still haven’t answered my question. Why is that scary-looking hand in the painting?”

  Madam Nini peered deeply into her crystal ball.

  “Oh, I see,” she said cheerfully. “It’s very simple, actually. The day Mr. Diggersby created the painting, he had lost his dog. The painting shows Mr. Diggersby pointing his servants to places where they should be looking for his dog.”

  “Looking for his lost dog?” Thumbs blustered. “I’ve never heard such nonsense in my life!”

  “But Mr. Diggersby was quite fond of that dog,” said Madam Nini.

  “This is all absurd! If the painting shows him looking for his lost dog, why is it titled ‘The Hand of Doom?’”

  Madam Nini peered again into her crystal ball. “Oh, I see,” she said brightly. “It turns out that ‘Doom’ was the name of Mr. Diggersby’s lost dog. You see he was always wandering around the house shouting ‘Doom, Doom, where are you, Doom?’”

  “Are you trying to tell us that the dog was named Doom?” asked Felicia.

  “Exactly,” replied Madam Nini confidently. “And that’s how the painting got its name.”

  “That’s j
ust crazy!” cried Felicia. “Madam Nini, I think that there are some things that you’re not telling us.”

  Madam Nini’s face turned absolutely blank. “I just don’t know what you mean,” she said.

  “Listen, Madam Nini,” Felicia continued. “I still think that painting is evil…really evil…and I think Jonathon is keeping it here just so it will scare Thumbs and me out of the house.”

  Struggling to keep a straight face, Jonathon responded. “Felicia! How could you say that?” You know I love sharing the house with you.”

  Felicia grunted and then turned her attention back to Madame Nini. “I’m asking Madam Nini—not you!”

  Madam Nini looked confused. “Uh…I guess so…I mean…no! Of course not! Jonathon’s a nice boy…he would never do that.”

  Mr. Thumbs stared menacingly at Madam Nini. “Wait just a minute,” he said. “How do the spirits of the painting know anything at all about Jonathon? Just who are the spirits of the painting anyway?”

  Madam Nini smiled. “There’s just one, actually—the spirit of Mr. Diggersby.”

  “But how would Diggersby know that Jonathon is a ‘nice boy,’” said Thumbs. “He never knew him while he was alive.”

  “Uh…well no,” Madam Nini admitted, “but Mr. Diggersby’s spirit has just noticed what a nice kid he is while he’s been observing in the living room.”

  Wait a minute,” snarled Thumbs. “You’re telling me that Diggersby’s spirit has been observing Jonathon since he hung the painting in the living room”?

  “Of course, you idiot!” exclaimed Madam Nini in Lizzie’s normal voice.

  “What did you call me?!” bellowed Thumbs.

  Madame Nini quickly shifted back to her mysterious voice. “I mean…yes…it’s true. The spirits observe all,” she said.

  “You know,” said Thumbs firmly as he stood up from the table, “I’m not sure I believe any of this. I’m beginning to believe that there are no spirits residing in this painting and Madam Nini here doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

  “That’s right!” Felicia added quickly. “I’m thinking Madame Nini is a fraud.”

  “Well, well,” said Emma, rising quickly from her chair and placing a hand on Madam Nini’s shoulder. “It’s been lovely having you here, Madam Nini, and we all appreciate the insights you’ve given us, but I think you mentioned earlier that you have another appointment that starts about now. Is that right?”

  “Another appointment?” said Madam Nini, “No, I don’t…”

  Emma gave Madam Nini a slight kick under the table. “Oh, yes! I distinctly remember about your appointment. And we certainly don’t want you to be late for it,” Emma said as she quickly led Madam Nini toward the front door. “But on half of everyone present, I want to thank you for coming and sharing your wisdom with us.”

  Thumbs grumbled. “I don’t think wisdom is the right word.”

  Emma opened the door quickly and urged Madame Nini onto the porch. “So thank you again for coming and I assure you we’ll call you again…if we ever run into another difficult painting.”

  Seconds later Madame Nini had disappeared and Jonathon turned to Thumbs and Felicia. “Now that’s what I call an exciting séance!” he said cheerfully.