Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
"That wasn't my imagination out there today," said Joe.
"Mine, either," said Callie.
"When did you first see this Ghost Gunman?" asked Frank.
"We're being terrible hosts," said Janet, obviously interrupting the conversation. "Gary can answer your questions, but let's do it while we show you your rooms."
They walked through the heavy glass-and walnut-paneled doors, across the spanking clean lobby, and up the sweeping dark wood staircase that dominated it. "Your rooms are on the second floor. I hope you like them," said Janet.
Gary said, "Janet and I have never actually seen the Ghost Gunman, but people who've stayed here have seen him - ever since we bought the place."
"That was two years ago?" Frank asked.
"Uh - huh," Gary replied.
They had come to a landing where the staircase split into two sets of stairs. A larger-than-life oil painting, the portrait of a beautiful woman in her midtwenties, dominated the landing. The woman in the painting had intense green eyes and shoulder-length auburn hair. She was wearing what looked like a white wedding gown. Around her throat was a beautiful ruby pendant. She also wore large diamond earrings and a matching diamond bracelet.
"Who's that?" Joe asked.
"Isn't she beautiful? That's Millicent Reed," Janet told them. "Wiley Reed's wife."
"She's more than beautiful," Joe whispered.
"She's gorgeous," said Callie. "What exactly happened to her? Our cab driver told us she died of a broken heart."
"She died many years ago," Gary explained.
"It's so sad," said Callie.
"Isn't it?" Janet agreed.
They all gazed at the painting for a moment longer and then, wordlessly, picked up the suitcases and continued walking up the stairs.
"What do you think happened to Wiley?" asked Frank.
"Well," said Gary, "there are two theories. One says that Wiley wanted to disappear. But that doesn't make much sense. Everything I ever heard about him says he loved Millicent and this place. Why would he want to leave?"
"And the other theory?" asked Joe.
"That someone murdered him."
"Murder!" said Callie. "But who, and why?"
"The who is probably something we'll never know," said Gary. "And as to the why, Wiley was a very rich man who was involved with some pretty dangerous people."
"The mob," started Frank.
"Right," Gary said, nodding. "Running rum was perfectly legal here on the islands, but it was very much against the law in the States during Prohibition."
They were on the second floor, and Janet brought them to a halt in front of a door marked 201. "This will be Callie's room. We've put Frank in two-oh-two and Joe in two-oh-three. How's that?"
"Great," said the Hardys and Callie in unison.
Janet smiled. "Why don't you settle in, and Gary can finish his ghost stories at dinner."
***
"More coffee, anyone?" asked Janet as she walked around the Runner's Harbor dining room carrying a pot of fresh-brewed coffee.
"Yes, thank you," said Allistair Gaines, the oldest resident at the hotel both in terms of age and of time spent there.
Frank and Callie had quickly unpacked so they could take advantage of the magnificent sunset on the beach. Joe had wandered around and checked out the large half-sided pavilion near the beach, the dilapidated boathouse, and a small shed.
Before dinner Gary and Janet had introduced the Hardys and Callie to the other guests. It had not taken long since there were only four others.
By the time dinner came they were very hungry, and Janet had proved herself to be a very good chef. Only Joe had found room for dessert.
As he watched Janet pour coffee, Frank considered what Gary had told them about the other guests at the hotel.
Gaines, a man in his late seventies or early eighties, had lived on the island most of his life. He was a melancholy man with flowing white hair and a long white mustache. He wore what had been expensive clothes that were now showing their age, but the most striking thing about him was his jewelry. He wore several large rings and had gold cufflinks and a gold tie clip in the shape of a large letter G.
Earl Logan had lived at the hotel for several weeks, but not much was known about him. A sullen man in his late forties or early fifties, he was nondescript in almost every way. His skin was pale, and his greasy blond hair was parted sloppily on one side. Frank noticed a small tattoo on Logan's right hand, a crudely drawn skull and crossbones on the fleshy skin between his thumb and index finger. The only other thing about him that was noteworthy was the lit cigarette he always had dangling from his lips.
The last two guests were the Wilkersons, Paul and Denise, a young couple in Barbados for their honeymoon. They were both blond, slender, and athletic looking. Although they were friendly enough, they obviously wanted their privacy.
Not long after dinner the Hardys and Callie excused themselves and said good night.
After the long trip all they wanted was to go to bed and get a good night's sleep. There would be time enough the next day to sightsee and hear all of Gary's ghost stories.
In the hallway outside their rooms Frank said, "I thought I was the only one who was exhausted."
"No," said Callie with a yawn and a shake of her head. "Good night."
"Must be the salt air," said Joe.
"Good night," said Frank. "See you in the morning."
"Happy vacation," said Callie, and gave Frank a quick good-night kiss on the cheek.
A cool ocean breeze wafted in through the open window in Frank's room. When he first heard the screams, he thought they were coming from outside.
Then he thought he was dreaming.
But now he was wide-awake, and his blood ran cold as he realized the sound was coming from inside Runner's Harbor.
It was Callie, and she was screaming for her life.
Frank raced down the hallway with Joe right behind him. Callie had stopped screaming now, and Frank feared the worst.
The room was dark when Frank and Joe pushed the door open. In the shadows they could just make out Callie standing on the bed, her back pressed against the wall.
"Watch out!" she warned in a voice hushed with fear.
"What is it?" whispered Frank.
"S - snake." Callie pointed a shaky finger at the foot of the bed.
"There." Joe nodded. He reached to turn on the light, but Frank stopped him.
"Not yet!"
Joe held back. "How should we handle it?"
"Very carefully," Frank answered quietly.
At the foot of Callie's bed was a coral snake. Even in the dim light from the hallway its colors - alternating bands of yellow, black, and red - were vivid and shimmering. The snake, which seemed to be about three feet long, was coiled into a circle and looked harmless enough.
Under his breath Joe said, "Is it poisonous?"
"If it's what I think it is - it is," whispered Frank with a nod. His lips were pursed as he tried to think of a way to capture the snake. To Callie, in a normal but soothing voice, he said, "Just stay where you are. Everything's going to be okay. Joe, when I say now, I want you to turn on the light."
Gary, Janet, and the Wilkersons were now gathered in the hallway at the open door.
"What's wrong?" asked Gary.
"Nothing," said Frank very quietly. "We'll handle this." He turned toward the snake.
Cautiously he approached the snake until he was standing directly over it. Very quietly he bent over and reached with his right hand for the snake's head. "Now!" he whispered loudly, and in the instant that the light flashed on Frank grasped the snake tightly just below its mouth and held it high, restraining its gaping mouth until he could throw it head-first into the pillowcase that Joe held out in front of him.
With a swift, sure movement, he tied the open end of the case into a firm knot.
"Done." He sighed. He turned and faced a concerned-looking Gary.
"What was that all about?" Gary asked worriedly. Frank explained the situation and that he had gotten rid of the problem.
"Is Callie okay?" Janet asked from behind Gary, trying to peer into the room.
"I'm fine," Callie called out in a shaky voice.
"Is the snake in that pillowcase?" Gary asked.
"Yes. It's an extremely poisonous coral snake, and I'm glad we got here in time," Frank said.
Seeing that everything was under control, Gary broke the group up and suggested they all return to bed.
After Frank had taken the snake outside and set it loose far from the hotel, he, Callie, and Joe took a walk on the beach to calm down after the excitement.
"What I can't figure out is how that snake got in your room," said Frank, still mulling over the night's excitement.
They might have continued talking about the snake, but at that moment they were interrupted by the muted sound of piano playing.
"Where's that coming from?" asked Frank.
"Sounds like the piano on the pavilion," said Joe, "but I can't imagine who'd be playing piano at this hour."
The pavilion was an ornate, half-open structure that was about midway between the hotel and a cliff that dropped a hundred feet or so to the beach.
Joe wrinkled his brow and said, "That song sounds familiar."
"It's by Gershwin," said Callie. " 'Someone to Watch Over Me.' " When they were about fifty feet from the pavilion, the music stopped as abruptly as it had begun.
There was no sound but the waves crashing against the rocks farther along on the beach. Light from a nearly full moon cast long shadows across the pavilion dance floor, and at the far end of the floor was the piano.
No one was in sight. Joe and Callie walked around the pavilion quietly and found nothing.
"I wonder who was playing," said Frank.
"It was lovely," said Callie.
The three of them stood in silence for a moment. Finally Frank said, "Why would someone play the piano in the middle of the night?" They left and made a surveillance tour of as much of the grounds as they could in the dim light but found nothing.
As the three of them walked back, they passed a section of the hotel that was in the midst of being repaired. Prominently placed on one wall was a sign that said, "Renovation by Tyler Construction. Barbados's Oldest Building Company."
Frank paused a moment to read it, and Joe said, "What do you think?"
"Maybe someone on the construction crew knows what's happening around here. It's as close to a lead as we've got," said Frank. "We'll check it out with the company in the morning."
***
The rest of that night passed uneventfully, but in the morning, when the Hardys went downstairs, they found the Wilkersons checking out of the hotel. Paul was explaining to Janet that Denise was terrified of snakes and they didn't feel they'd be able to enjoy the rest of their honeymoon. They apologized, then left.
After breakfast Callie went sightseeing with Janet and Gary, and Joe and Frank borrowed one of the hotel's cars and paid a visit to Tyler Construction, which was about five miles down the coast road from Runner's Harbor. The building that housed the company was a modest but attractive white brick structure nestled under palm trees.
As Frank and Joe walked from the car through the small parking lot to the entrance, Joe asked, "Just what are we looking for here? Snake handlers or guys in suits from the 1920s who knew Al Capone?"
"Very funny," said Frank. "I don't know, but Tyler's men have been working around the hotel for some time, and maybe one of them's seen something. It's worth checking out. We won't stay long. Then we'll go back and hit the beach, okay?" Joe nodded his consent.
A receptionist in the cool office showed the Hardys into a larger one. A large wooden ceiling fan circulated the air gently.
A tall, tanned man stood up from behind a polished mahogany desk and said, "Randolph Tyler. Pleased to meet you. How can I be of service?"
"I'm Frank Hardy. This is my brother, Joe. We're staying at Runner's Harbor, and we wanted to ask you a few questions."
They all shook hands. From a corner of the room a young man appeared. He was perhaps a year or two older than Frank. Slender and dark haired, he wore wire-rimmed glasses that framed sullen brown eyes.
"Sorry to interrupt," he said to the boys, "but Mr. Tyler's time is very short."
Tyler looked at the young man curiously, then turned to Frank and Joe and said, "Brady's right, as usual. This is Brady Jamison, my assistant."
To the Hardys Jamison said, "Can these questions wait? I'm afraid we really have to go shortly, and I don't believe you had an appointment."
Joe fought an urge to say something rude to Jamison but instead told Tyler, "We can be very brief."
"That seems reasonable to me," said Tyler. "Have a seat. We've got a few minutes."
The Hardys took chairs in front of Tyler's desk as Brady Jamison mumbled, "Only a few."
"What can I tell you?" asked Tyler.
"This is a bit strange, I know," said Frank, "but we were wondering what you could tell us about Runner's Harbor."
Brady Jamison interrupted to say snidely, "I'm sure you can find all the answers to those questions at the Barbados Public Library. It's really very well stocked with history books. All about the exploits of the very colorful criminal Wiley Reed."
"That's enough, Brady." Randolph Tyler smiled at his assistant with a patience that seemed well practiced. He turned his attention back to Frank and Joe. "Brady's dad and I were partners, so Brady and I go way back." He smiled at the young man again. "My family has lived on this island for five generations. There's very little I don't know. Briefly, Runner's Harbor was built by Wiley Reed in the twenties and was his base of operations for a very lucrative rum-exporting business. Shipping liquor out of Barbados was not illegal. What he did with it on the other end was of no concern to people here. He did very well, I understand. Now, my company has been hired to renovate the place. I own the hotel you drove by to get here, and adding Runner's Harbor and all its property to my hotel would make it the finest and largest resort in the Caribbean. I hope to buy it someday."
"Why didn't you buy it?" asked Frank. "Gary and Janet just got it two years ago."
"That's really none of your business," Brady Jamison interrupted again. "What's this all about?"
Tyler considered Frank a moment and said, "Brady may be blunt, but he has a point. You haven't told us why you're asking all these questions."
Frank told Tyler who they were, that he and Joe and Callie were visiting Callie's cousin, and that there were some unexplained occurrences at the hotel, and they just wanted to ask some questions.
"What sort of things?" asked Tyler.
"Well," Frank began, "someone put a coral snake in one of the guest rooms last night."
"The island is full of snakes, I'm afraid," Tyler offered, "and with all the digging we've been doing, it's no surprise that one could turn up in a room. Now, what else?"
Brady Jamison abruptly ended the meeting right then by insisting that he and Tyler leave for their appointment.
The four of them walked to the parking lot together.
As he prepared to get into his jeep, Tyler turned to the Hardys and said, "A word of friendly advice?"
"Sure," said Frank.
"I think you boys should relax and enjoy the island and not get caught up in local nonsense. Lie on the beach and take it easy."