The Avenger 36 - Demon Island (13 page)

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Sure, I am,” said Smitty. “You watch. I bet Cole’ll be back in Manhattan within two weeks, raring to go on another goofy case.” He shrugged. “Of course, Nellie, if he doesn’t, well, I’m always—”

“I know, Smitty, I know.” She took his arm. “Now tell me what you’re going to do with that shovel.”

“Oh, that. I’m going to dig up the buried money.”

“Really? Those other fellows were something less than successful at that.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t have the advantages of technocracy.”

She peered into the cardboard box. “One of your gadgets?”

“It’s a variation on my tracking device. I fiddled with it last night after everybody turned in. See, what it does is sniff out metal.”

“Silva the bootlegger didn’t bury gold.”

“He buried paper money, but it’s supposed to be in a trunk. And there’s bound to be some metal in that.”

“You plan to go over the whole island with your gadget?”

“Nope,” replied Smitty. “I figure this Silva bird was more likely to put the dough some place where it’d be handy to find. Maybe near one of the underground entrances to his hidden hideout. So I’m going to let my gizmo sniff around there first.”

“Sounds good.”

“Oh, we’re going to find that dough,” he promised her. “If it’s here.”

Lt. Bonner shook his head. “I don’t see how I can buy that, Benson.”

He and the Avenger were alone in the library. “You’re going to have to, Lieutenant.”

“But you admit yourself that Fanny Fiddler choked this guy Tucker to death.”

“Her hands choked him, yes,” admitted Richard Henry Benson. “But she was not in control of her body at that time.”

“Okay, maybe we can get her off on a temporary-insanity plea,” said the policeman.

“She’s not to come to trial,” the Avenger said.

“How am I going to justify that? I got a stiff over in the San Amaro morgue. I got a girl here who everybody admits killed him. And I’m not going to do anything?”

The Avenger looked at him, his eyes flashing. “I’ve told you the circumstances, Lieutenant Bonner,” he said in a slow, level voice. “Fanny Fiddler’s body was taken over by the spirit of Nita DelMar.”

“That might go over in the American Weekly or some movie magazine, Benson, but—”

“I am prepared to take this to the governor,” said the Avenger. “I’ve rarely tried to throw my weight around, Bonner, but I will. The governor of this state is a friend of mine. And he’ll believe what I tell him.”

The lieutenant turned away. Those steady, blazing eyes were starting to unsettle him. “I listened to your story, but I . . . you mean you’re really serious? The ghost of this dead actress was roaming around this island?”

“And may still be,” said the Avenger. “Nellie Gray only drove the spirit out of Fanny Fiddler’s body. The spirit itself has not been laid to rest. I’ve suggested to Terence O’Malley that he wind up his work on Demon Island today and be prepared to leave before nightfall.”

The policeman rubbed his palm across the back of his neck. “Okay, I guess I have to believe you. We’ll write Tucker’s death off as accidental,” he said. “Same as that other guy we dug up. And we’ll charge Stark and Morrison with kidnapping and a few related charges.”

“I appreciate that,” said Benson. “The girl has been through a very unusual ordeal. I don’t believe putting her on trial would serve any purpose . . . and it might do her further harm.”

“Yeah, maybe so.”

“Top of the morning, Lieutenant,” said Cole Wilson, looking in at the partially open door.

“Hello, Wilson. Hey, I hear congratulations are in order.”

“Yes, indeed. I’m leaving my carefree youth behind, putting my shoulder to the wheel and my nose to the grindstone. Going to be walking the straight and narrow henceforward.”

“Well, she seems like a nice girl. I’ve seen her in a couple of movies. My wife and I go to the movies twice a week,” said the policeman. “She hates movies, but she’s in love with the free dishes they’ve been giving away.”

Cole snapped his fingers. “Which reminds me . . . I’ll have to start thinking about all sorts of domestic things like that. Dishware, silver, lamp shades—”

“Excelsior!”

“Now what?” said Cole.

Smitty came barging into the library, waving a glass jar in the air. “We found it! It’s the loot . . . the dough!” Laughing, he unscrewed the rusted lid of the fruit jar. “Look at that. It’s a wad of money.” His huge fingers deftly extracted the folded bills from the jar. “Geeze, they’re all hundreds. And there’s . . . a hundred of ’em.”

“You’ve got the monetary equivalent of a green thumb, Smitty, my lad. Did you find only the one jar?”

“Naw, Cole, we got a whole trunk of the stuff. I left it out on the front steps because it’s kind of muddy.”

“Hey, what is all this hooting about?” O’Malley had come into the hall from outside. “I mean, this guy comes running through my shooting with a dirty trunk on one shoulder and Nellie Gray on the other. And he’s waving a fruit jar.”

“I’m sorry I spoiled your scene, Terry.” Smitty held out the wad of money. “It’s just that me and Nell dug up the missing dough. I got excited. You know how it is . . . you feel like shouting when you find a million bucks.”

O’Malley blinked. “A million dollars in cash?” He looked around at them. “Who does it belong to?”

Lt. Bonner said, “I’ll have to look into that.”

“Well, if it’s yours, Smitty,” said the director, “I’ve got a great script I want you to look at. Now, it’s a horror movie, but it takes place on a ship which . . .”

“Whoosh,” said MacMurdie, “I dinna believe it.”

“Well, it’s true,” said Smitty.

Josh shook his head. “It’s not going to seem the same without Cole around.”

The giant said, “He ain’t quitting for good. He’s taking a few weeks off so as to get hitched to Heather Brail and then have himself a honeymoon.”

“I met her when we were out in Los Angeles on that zombie business,” said Josh. “She’s a very pretty girl. Good actress, too.”

“You guys haven’t told me what happened down in Florida.”

“Nothing much,” said the black man. “It was pretty much a wild goose chase.”

MacMurdie couldn’t leave the topic of Cole’s impending marriage. “When’s the knot t’be tied, lad?”

“Not exactly sure, Mac. She’s got to finish that movie they’re making.”

“Ye see?” The Scot ran a finger along the side of his nose. “He’s got to cool his heels while the lass acts in a motion picture. A mon kinna put up wi’ that fer long.”

The giant said, “Aw, I don’t think he’ll ever really tie the knot, Mac. Cole ain’t the settling-down type.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” said Josh. “Cole has a romantic side.”

“When I get m’invite to the wedding . . . then I’ll believe it,” said Mac.

“Care to make a little bet, Smitty?” asked Josh. “I got ten bucks that says he’ll— Oh, hi, Nellie.”

The little blonde had entered the office of Justice, Incorporated. A frown was creasing her forehead. “Something’s up,” she said, glancing toward the Avenger’s empty desk.

“What do you mean?” asked Smitty.

“Well, while you fellows were out to lunch Dick got a letter,” explained the girl. “He read it and . . . well, I’ve never seen him look like that before. He looked like he’d been hit by lightning or something. Without saying anything to me, he got up and left.”

MacMurdie said, “ ’Tis odd. And he dinna say a word to ye?”

“Nothing to me directly, no,” the girl continued. “But he said a couple things to himself while he was reading the letter. He said, ‘But they’re dead,’ and then he said, ‘It can’t be true . . .’ ”

“Huh,” said Smitty.

Josh frowned. “It couldn’t be . . . no, that’s impossible.”

“Are ye thinkin’ what I’m thinkin, mon?”

“Well, it did occur to me that it would have to be something pretty important to hit Dick as hard as Nell says this did,” said the black man. “His saying ‘But they’re dead’ made me think he might be talking about his wife and daughter.”

“Aw,” said Smitty, “that’s impossible. Dick’s wife and daughter died in that airplane accident. That’s why he became the Avenger in the first place and started this whole Justice, Incorporated, setup.”

“Still, the way the accident happened,” said Josh. “Maybe there could be some doubt. What do you think, Mac?”

“I dinna know what to think,” replied the Scot. “All these years . . . I’ve believed they were dead. Nellie, lass, could the letter have told him otherwise?”

“I don’t know, Mac. He took it with him when he went out.”

“Look, suppose somebody did write and tell Dick his family was alive after all,” said Smitty. “He’s not going to believe that just reading it in a letter.”

“Yeah, but there was sure something in the letter to shock him,” reminded Josh. “Maybe it said something that absolutely convinced him . . . or at least made him want to go out and check into it. And you got to admit it’s not like Dick Benson to just take off without telling us a thing.”

MacMurdie shook his head and let out a long sigh. “The only thing to do,” he said, “is wait until he comes back and ask him what’s happened.”

They all settled down to await the return of the Avenger.