The Poltergeist Puzzle by Nene Adams ©2002 - All rights reserved

"This house," declared Mrs. Terwilliger, "is cursed!"

Evangeline St. Claire raised finely drawn brows and whispered to her lover, "A tad melodramatic, but what else can one expect from an American?"

Rhiannon Moore bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a laugh. "Lina, behave yourself," she replied as softly.

"Yes, my dear." Lina winked at her, which made Rhiannon flush. Mrs. Terwilliger went on, paying no attention to their by-play.

"Well, perhaps not cursed," the American matron gasped, so violently that the vast swell of her bosom threatened to explode out of the bodice of her Paris gown. She was a stout and well-fed woman, stringently corseted for fashion's sake. Any excitement left her breathless, pop-eyed and scarlet cheeked.

After a moment, Mrs. Terwilliger gulped and continued, "The house is haunted. I'm a woman of delicate nerves, Lady St. Claire. Fragile as spun glass. The goings-on here have nearly destroyed my health." Her voice rose as she warmed to her favorite subject. "I've been sickly all my life. Oh, how much I suffer! Neuralgia, carbuncles, gout, dyspepsia, morbid melancholia, catarrh, such pains in my head and flutterings of my heart that I can find no peace! My doctors have said..."

"Pardon me, madame," Lina interrupted, "but I believe we were discussing the events that have cause upheaval in your household?"

Mrs. Terwilliger sniffed, walked to the sideboard, and poured herself a stiff tot of brandy. Somewhat restored by neat spirits, she said more calmly, "I came to London because my son, Thomas, is marrying Lady Constance Howard on Sunday. I rented this house because it's in a respectable neighborhood, though not as fine as my home in New York, you understand."

"Indeed." Lina was sitting on the edge of the sofa in Mrs. Terwilliger's parlor, with Rhiannon settled in a deep armchair to her right. "Wyvern Crescent is a highly desirable and most respectable address. Quite close to Regent's Park, and there is a bank across the street."

"Yes, yes, but the agent didn't tell me the place was haunted!" Mrs. Terwilliger poured herself another glass of brandy. "It started about a week after I moved in. Strange grinding noises, hollow voices, knocks and bangs and so forth. I was naturally terrified. The servants nearly gave notice."

"Have you experienced anything along the lines of items moving from place to place, or missing altogether?" Lina asked.

"Well, my rhinestone lavaliere went missing a few days ago, but it turned up again the next morning. My maid found it in a potted fern. I didn't dare bring any of my good jewelry from New York. One hears dreadful tales of thieves and burglars, and I can't bear the thought of suffering such a violation. All my jewels are copies which I've had made. Copies sound enough to fool most people. Oh, Thomas refuses to believe me, but he's in love and cannot see how much I suffer."

"Is Thomas not staying with you?" Rhiannon asked, tucking a stray lock of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear.

Mrs. Terwilliger drained her brandy glass. "No, he is not. Thomas is living at Brown's in Mayfair. I should have stayed there, too, but I prefer a proper home to a hotel. Besides, I had hoped to do some entertaining. Dinner parties and so forth. Lady Constance's family is well connected. Oh!" She stamped her foot. "This is all so vexing!"

Lina understood what was not being said. The Howard's were impoverished nobility, while Mrs. Terwilliger's son was wealthy but untitled. That sort of arrangement was common enough. Enough cash could cover up a multitude of sins, including an American mother-in-law of the vulgar, social climbing nouveau riche variety.

"Have you investigated the source of these nocturnal disturbances yourself?" Lina asked.

"Naturally not!" Mrs. Terwilliger's florid complexion turned a shade more scarlet. "What a thing to suggest! Have I not told you, madame, that I'm unwell? It's bad enough that I must endure these torments from a distance." Her bosom quivered dangerously. It took a moment for her to catch her breath and resume, "That's why I want you to do something about it. We're having the wedding breakfast here straight after the ceremony. The arrangements have all been made, and it's too late to alter the plans. I don't know what Lady Constance's parents will say if they find out, so it must all be done in secret and with the greatest haste possible."

Lina's inky brows shot to her hairline. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, I went to see Mr. Sherlock Holmes - he was recommended by the agent's firm, Palmer & Sons -  but Mr. Holmes said that he was already working hard on an important case." Mrs. Terwilliger's corset strings creaked as she inhaled. "He said that you were available, and assured me that you could get the job done. Frankly, I was a skeptical. A female detective? I've never heard of such a thing. But since you're a lady, the same as Constance Howard, I thought it must be all right."

"I see." Lina's face was expressionless, her tone perfectly calm. Only Rhiannon saw the anger that ignited her partner's emerald eyes. Lina went on, "Perhaps you can explain, then, why I received a letter from my friend, Countess Carmogen, asking me to render you assistance?"

"Oh, that." Mrs. Terwilliger flapped her hands in dismissal. "Mr. Holmes said he'd take care of contacting you."

"You are not acquainted with Countess Carmogen?"

"Not at all. I'm sorry if you came here under false pretenses. I assure you that I'll make it worth your while."

Rhiannon knew that beneath her cool exterior, Lina was fuming. She hastily said, "No harm done, I'm sure."

Mrs. Terwilliger was oblivious. "My poor nerves are positively shattered." She had a third glass of brandy, tipping it back with the ease of a professional drunkard. "Why should I be bedeviled in this horrid manner? I shall run mad if something isn't done." The glass slipped from her hands, shattered on the floorboards. Mrs. Terwilliger let out a shriek, and burst into tears.

Lina jumped up with an oath, followed by Rhiannon. Together, they guided the stout woman to a chair and helped her to a semi-reclining position. Mrs. Terwilliger's corset was far too stiff to allow her to bend comfortably. Her head was propped up on the back of the chair, her heels on the floor, but the rest of her body was rigid. Rhiannon found a vinaigrette and waved the smelling salts beneath Mrs. Terwilliger's nose.

"What am I to do?" the woman moaned. Her streaming eyes seemed about to leap from their sockets. "Oh, why ever did I take this cursed house?"

"Calm yourself, madame, before I have to cut your corset strings to save you from suffocation." Lina smoothed the skirts of her unstructured Liberty silk gown. Contrary to fashion, neither she nor Rhiannon wore corsets. Lina prized ease of movement very highly. "Now then... I shall do what I can for you, but I must ask some questions first. Are you able to answer?"

Mrs. Terwilliger snatched the vinaigrette from Rhiannon, sniffed until she went cross-eyed, and dropped the silver case on the floor. Several constricted breaths later, she said, "Ask me."

"You said the noises began a week after you took possession of this house."

"Yes. Always at night, but not always at the same time. At first, the sounds were quite loud, mostly like fingernails scraping against a chalkboard. I heard a voice, but couldn't make out the words." Mrs. Terwilliger paused frequently in her recitation to draw labored breaths. "As the evenings progressed, the noises would grow fainter, then louder again. It was very frightening."

"Where did the sounds originate?" Lina asked.

"From below." Mrs. Terwilliger stabbed a ring-laden finger at the floor and shuddered. "I could hear most clearly through the sitting room fireplace. Once, I thought I heard a man's voice saying, "Olive." The name means nothing to me."

Lina frowned. "Has no one investigated the cellar?"

"Yes. The butler, Higgins, and my maid, Mary. They found nothing."

"These are your servants from America?"

"No." Mrs. Terwilliger rubbed her temples. "My own ladies maid fell ill just before we sailed, and had to be left behind in New York. Mary and Higgins were hired from a London agency. They both have excellent references."

Lina and Rhiannon exchanged a glance. They had been admitted by Higgins earlier. He was a scrawny old man who looked as if a good breeze might blow him arse-over-teakettle. Not quite doddering, but definitely past his prime. Higgins did not seem to be the type to exert himself unduly.

"Do you recall much about Mary's references?" Lina asked.

"She worked for Diana, Duchess of Northcar," said Mrs. Terwilliger proudly. "Of course, she was a parlor maid in that household. I had asked for a regular ladies maid, but Mary told me that she could do hair and the like. She's proved a godsend. Quite a neat hand at repairing seams. Another ladies maid turned up a day later, but I told her that I was already in good hands. I do so hate to have strangers about me, but Mary is very personable." She heaved a shallow sigh. "Will you help me, Lady St. Claire?"

"I will do my utmost," Lina replied. "Is there anything else you would care to add?"

"A friend of mine - Mrs. Henry Drake - said that the place is haunted by a poltergeist. Are you familiar with the word?"

Lina shrugged. "German, I believe. It means "noisy spirit." You refer, of course, to those mysterious nocturnal activities which you find so repulsive."

"If only it wasn't too late to make other arrangements for the wedding breakfast! Oh, Lady St. Claire, you're my last hope!"

"You have my word, Mrs. Terwilliger, that your house shall be plagued by poltergeists no more." Lina gave the reclining woman a little bow. She took Rhiannon's arm, drew her off to one side, and spoke to her quietly. "I will go and have a look at the cellar. Will you stay here, my dear, and watch over Mrs. Terwilliger? She is in a state of nervous exhaustion, and should not be left alone. I will not be long, I promise."

Rhiannon nodded. "Go on, then. I suppose when we're finished, you'll want to go to Baker Street and give Holmes the sharp side of your tongue? His treatment of this case was rather high-handed."

"Mrs. Terwilliger might be the most ridiculous woman in London, but I believe there is more here than meets the eye." Lina glanced around, turned her attention back to Rhiannon. Her expression had sharpened; there was an eagerness in her eyes that belied her calm posture.

The look on her partner's face was one that Rhiannon knew all too well. Lina was on the scent. Something about this poltergeist nonsense had piqued her interest. There would be no peace until she got to the bottom of the matter.

"Well, I don't see that there's anything to this business other than a highly-strung woman fueled by an overindulgence in spirits," Rhiannon said, careful to keep her voice down. "By spirits, I mean brandy, not ectoplasm."

"Ah, remember that Mrs. Terwilliger is not the only one to have heard our poltergeist. She stated that the servants are on the verge of giving notice. Although," Lina added with a smile, "that may have more to do with the lady's unpleasant disposition than otherworldly activities."

"True." Rhiannon shrugged, turquoise eyes dancing merrily. "I await your solution with bated breath."

"I shan't be long, my dear." Lina excused herself to Mrs. Terwilliger, and left the parlor.

While Lina was gone, Mrs. Terwilliger asked Rhiannon to ring for her maid. "I need my tonic, Miss Moore. It's the only thing that helps when my head is pounding so."

Rhiannon gave the bell pull a sharp tug. When no one answered after a few minutes, she tried again. Meanwhile, Mrs. Terwilliger fretted, and finally thrust herself out of the chair. "Where is Mary?" she demanded, her bodice heaving with indignation.

Higgins appeared, shuffling to a halt in the doorway. "Yes, madame?"

"I want Mary," said Mrs. Terwilliger. "Fetch her at once."

"Yes, madame." Higgins turned slowly on his heel and walked away, his grizzled head shaking from side to side.

Rhiannon tried to make her sit down again, but Mrs. Terwilliger refused. She paced up and down, growing more crimson and more breathless by the moment. Rhiannon began to fear for her when suddenly, the stout woman stopped dead in the middle of the floor. "Oh! Do you hear that, Miss Moore?"

"I beg your pardon?" Rhiannon was puzzled.

"Those horrible sounds! There they are again!" Mrs. Terwilliger clasped her hands beneath her chin and seemed about to faint.

Rhiannon picked up the vinaigrette from the floor, and passed it several times beneath the stout woman's nose. She prayed the smelling salts would work, as she was not physically capable of catching Mrs. Terwilliger if she should fall. At the same time, Rhiannon cocked her head, listening.

"Yes," she said, "yes, I hear them!"

It was precisely as Mrs. Terwilliger had described. Scraping, grinding noises emanating from below the floor, moving and growing fainter as the sounds angled out of the parlor. What seemed to be a person's voice, although Rhiannon could not make out what it was saying. "Where's the sitting room?" she asked.

"The room next to this one," said Mrs. Terwilliger weakly. Rhiannon took her hand and led her out of the parlor, towards the great stone fireplace in the sitting room. As she expected, the noises were clearer, apparently issuing from the chimney.

"Oh, my God!" Mrs. Terwilliger groped for the vinaigrette. "It's never happened during the day before. Is it the poltergeist, Miss Moore? Would it do any good to send for a priest? I'm not Catholic, but..."

"Shhh!" Rhiannon hissed, moving closer to the fireplace. The noises stopped. From behind, a voice said loudly, "You rang for me, mum?"

Mrs. Terwilliger let out a little scream and whirled around. A pretty young woman in a maid's black satin uniform was standing in the doorway. She carried a tray that held a cut-glass bottle of virulent emerald liquid, a carafe of water, a glass, and a spoon.

"Mary, you frightened me nearly to death!" cried Mrs. Terwilliger.

Mary managed to curtsey without dropping her burden. "I'm sorry, mum. Higgins said that you required your tonic." Her hair was dark, sleeked back from a high brow and coiled into a knot at the nape of her neck. She turned large black eyes upon Rhiannon, then her gaze flicked back to Mrs. Terwilliger.

"Very well, Mary." Mrs. Terwilliger pressed a hand to her ample bosom. "You gave me such a turn! Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?"

"I'm sorry, mum," Mary placed the tray on a table. With quick efficiency, she measured several spoonfuls of the emerald tonic into a glass, added water, and stirred. The resulting mixture was the color of pea soup.

Rhiannon wrinkled her nose, but Mrs. Terwilliger drank it down with every sign of enjoyment.

Lina strode briskly into the sitting room. She had removed her gloves, and her hands were bare. "Ah, there you are," she said, snapping shut the beaded reticule that dangled from her wrist. "Madame, there are one or two matters pertaining to your case which require further investigation. However, I am confident that I shall have a solution no later than this evening."

"This evening?" Mrs. Terwilliger blinked. "Lady St. Claire, your companion and I have just heard the poltergeist. Didn't we, Miss Moore?"

"Yes, we did." Rhiannon said, looking at Lina suspiciously.

Lina shrugged, unfazed by her partner's stare. "Be that as it may, we have a prior engagement which cannot be broken. Good day, Mrs. Terwilliger. Miss Moore and I will call upon you at ten o'clock, if that is convenient. I shall bring a police inspector as well as Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

"Certainly." Mrs. Terwilliger's plucked brows were drawn together in puzzlement. "But what about the poltergeist?"

"Do not worry, madame." Lina smoothed the line of her gown. Rhiannon noticed a long streak of dirt on the chocolate colored silk. "You have my word that all will be well. Come, my dear. We really must be going."

Rhiannon made her good-byes to Mrs. Terwilliger. As she left the sitting room, she noticed Mary standing unobtrusively in a corner, her black uniform blending into the shadows. The maid's eyes were hooded, her expression bland except for the grim set of her mouth. Something about Mary's expression made Rhiannon uneasy.

It was not until they had retrieved their hats and shawls, and were outside of the house, that Rhiannon asked, "Lina, where are your gloves?" She held out her own hands for emphasis, clad in supple kidskin from fingertip to wrist.

"In a moment, my dear." Lina signaled for a hansom cab. She said to the driver, "Go around the block and take your time." She helped Rhiannon into the cab, then clambered in herself. As soon as they were settled and the horse lurched into motion, Lina sighed. "All right, my dear. It is safe to speak now."

"You found something in Mrs. Terwilliger's cellar, didn't you?" Rhiannon sat back, pulling the light veil of her hat down across her face. "Your dress is filthy. So, I would imagine, are your gloves."

Lina nodded. "I would prefer not to discuss my findings just yet. Although," she added hurriedly, spurred by the ominous gleam in Rhiannon's eyes, "should you insist, I will make every effort to divulge the few facts that I have ascertained. I would prefer to wait until the solution is completed."

"Now I know why Doctor Watson is often tempted to thrash Holmes within an inch of his life," Rhiannon murmured. "You're just as bad as he is sometimes. Absolutely maddening."

"Have patience, my dear. You will play a vital role in this evening's revelation. For now, we must separate." Lina held up a hand to forestall argument. "Your task is no less important than my own. I must keep watch on the house until you return. In the meanwhile, take this cab to Palmer & Sons in Piccadilly, my dear. Find out how long the house at Wyvern Crescent was vacant until it was let to Mrs. Terwilliger. The information is critical to the conclusion of our case."

Rhiannon clenched her hand into a fist and waved it in mock threat. "Swear to me that you won't do anything dangerous until I return."

"On my life, I swear it." Lina took Rhiannon's gloved fist, pried the fingers apart, and placed a kiss in the center of her palm. "Make haste, my dear. It is four o'clock now. I suspect that matters may come to a head very soon."

She banged on the roof of the cab, which rolled to a halt. Lina jumped out, handed the driver a folded banknote, and said, "Palmer & Sons in Piccadilly. Wait until my companion has finished her business there, and then drive her to Wyvern Crescent with all speed."

From the driver's involuntary oath, Lina's offering must have been a substantial one. Rhiannon was thrust back into the cushions as he snapped his whip over the horse's head, and the hansom cab rolled away at a good clip. Rhiannon struggled up, shoved her head out of the box. She caught a last glimpse of Lina, strolling in the direction of the haunted house.

Oh, love, Rhiannon thought, pulling herself back inside. Be careful.

It took nearly an hour to reach her destination, owing to an overturned cart that had been hauling beer barrels. The street was a confused jumble of carriages, nervous horses, cat-calling vendors and milling bystanders, all punctuated by the sharp smell of spilled beer. Rhiannon was ready to scream with impatience by the time the cab pulled up outside the firm of Palmer & Sons.

Getting the information proved to be more difficult than she had imagined. Mr. Palmer, Sr. was a punctilious little man whose concern for the proprieties verged on the obsessive. He fussed and fretted; even the invocation of Sherlock Holmes could not persuade him to commit what he saw as an indiscretion. Rhiannon pleaded and cajoled to no avail. Mr. Palmer retired to his office, unwilling to endure further argument. Fortunately, his clerk was not so cautious.

The young man turned the big accounts book around, so that Rhiannon could see it. He pointed at an entry and said softly, "Number 8, Wyvern Crescent, was let two weeks ago to Mrs. George Terwilliger from America. The property was first listed with this agency one week prior to the engagement."

"Thank you," Rhiannon replied, just as quietly. She slipped a five pound note from her reticule, slid it across the desk to him. He pushed it back to her.

"Never mind, miss. It was nothing." The clerk gave her a shy smile.

Rhiannon dimpled at him, then hurried out of the building to the waiting cab.

Taking another route, they arrived at Wyvern Crescent in a mere twenty minutes. Rhiannon exited the hansom, feeling as breathless as Mrs. Terwilliger. She saw no sign of Lina as she went up the walk towards the house. As she passed by a thick stand of boxwood hedge, hard hands grabbed her, whirled her into the shadows. Rhiannon gulped air, started to let it out in a scream which was cut off by a palm clapped across her mouth.

The figure leaned towards her, until it was close enough for Rhiannon to recognize the face. Lina!

"Silence, my dear," Lina whispered. Her hat was missing; dark tendrils of hair had escaped the braids wrapped coronet-style around her head. "I apologize for startling you."

Rhiannon nodded. When Lina failed to remove the hand across her mouth, she stuck out her tongue and wriggled it against her partner's palm.

Lina smiled. "It is good to see you as well." She released Rhiannon, only to wrap arms around her in an embrace. "Did you obtain the information we required?"

"Yes," Rhiannon breathed, pressing the side of her face against the taller woman's bosom. As always, Lina's subtle perfume bewitched her senses. "It was vacant for a week before Mrs. Terwilliger took possession."

"I thought as much. They have not had very much time to..." Lina broke off, peered through a section of hedge.

"Who hasn't had much time? And to do what?" Rhiannon turned her head, trying to see what had captured Lina's attention. "What is it?"

"Shhh." Lina reached into the pocket of her gown, removed a French muff pistol. The dainty, four-inch firearm had an engraved steel barrel, and the grip was ivory. It was a new acquisition, since her normal revolver was too heavy and bulky to be carried around when she was not wearing men's costume. Although it only carried two small caliber bullets, Lina was an exceptional shot. "I believe our prey has taken the bait. My dear, the people inside may be armed. They are most certainly dangerous. Can I not persuade you to remain here?"

"If you're going in there, so I am," Rhiannon said stubbornly.

"Very well." Lina's eyes glowed with mingled pride and apprehension. "With any luck, resistance will be disorganized. Do be careful, my dear. Should anything happen to me, promise that you will leave at once to fetch police assistance." She squeezed Rhiannon's shoulder with her free hand.

"I promise," Rhiannon lied. If anything happens to Lina, I'll kill whoever's responsible, if I have to do it with my bare hands. She knew that her partner felt the same.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes. What do you want me to do?"

"Simply follow my lead, my dear." Lina extended her arm into the air and fired a shot, then dashed around to the front of the house with Rhiannon at her heels. The maid, Mary, tried to bar their way, but Lina pushed her to one side.

Rhiannon saw that Mary, far from being rendered hors de combat, had picked herself up and was coming behind Lina with murderous intent, a broad-bladed kitchen knife in her hand. Rhiannon let out a curse and launched herself at Mary like an avenging Fury. The two women went down, rolling together on the floor, ending with Mary uppermost. Rhiannon was strong, but the maid had a wiry strength that she found difficult to overcome. The knife sliced downward, a glittering arc that plunged past Rhiannon's ear, nicked it in passing, and smacked into the floorboards. Mary's mouth was stretched wide in a terrible grimace; her eyes gleamed with rage.

There was scant time to consider her next move. Rhiannon managed to get her leg between them and pushed Mary hard, sending her sprawling backwards, away from the knife. Lina stooped over her and delivered a blow with her fist to the back of the woman's neck. Mary slumped over, unconscious.

Lina went over to Rhiannon. Her face was pasty white. "Are you unharmed?"

"I'm fine." Rhiannon took her partner's hand, used it to pull herself off the floor. Her ear stung as if it had been dipped in fire. Rhiannon touched the area with her fingers. They came back wet with blood. "Just a minor cut, I think."

Lina glanced at Mary's still form, then at the knife that was buried point downward in the floor. "Devil take it, that was far too close for comfort..." A loud crash from below made her head come up. "The game is afoot!" she cried. "My dear, the police should arrive any moment. Find Mrs. Terwilliger and stay with her." Lina sprinted out of the entrance hall, turned down a corridor beside the great staircase.

Rhiannon sighed, pinched her bleeding ear between her fingers, and went into the sitting room. She found Mrs. Terwilliger there, bound and gagged, lying rigidly on a chaise longue. The woman's eyes were bulging over the gag. When she saw Rhiannon, Mrs. Terwilliger made muffled, half-strangled noises.

"Are you all right?" Rhiannon asked, removing the gag and untying her.

Mrs. Terwilliger took several heaving breaths. Her face was nearly puce. She could not speak for several moments, merely stuttered. Rhiannon fetched her a large brandy, and watched while the stout woman gulped it as though the liquor was water.

Mrs. Terwilliger's teeth chattered on the glass. She composed herself with an effort, although her hands still shook. "Oh, Miss Moore! Such horrible doings in my house! Those men..."

From the fireplace there came a chilling sound - men's voices upraised in shouting and curses - and most blood-curdling of all, the barking of Lina's pistol as she expended her second and final shot. Rhiannon snatched up an iron poker and left Mrs. Terwilliger in the sitting room. She hauled her skirts up to her waist with no regard for modesty, and ran as fast as she could towards the cellar door. It was open, the narrow staircase illuminated by oil lamps from below. Rhiannon held the handle of the poker with both hands, the heavy length canted over her shoulder. She tumbled hastily down the steps, almost tripping over her skirts. The voices were louder, a confused jumble of coarse oaths and yells.

Lina was in the midst of a half dozen attackers; another three men were already stretched out on the floor by virtue of the baritsu skills taught to her by Holmes. A fourth was sitting in a corner, holding the bullet wound in his left shoulder. Rhiannon waded into the fray without a second thought, her poker delivering blows to heads and knees. Meanwhile, Lina's foot came blurring around at an angle to crack an opponent's jaw. He fell with a groan, and she stamped forward to meet a second man, striking at her with an earth clotted shovel. Rhiannon swung hard at the shovel wielder, hitting him square in the belly with her poker. His breath went out in a gust; he folded forward, to meet the edge of Lina's hand with his nose. A burst of scarlet stained his unshaven features. He shrank back whimpering, clutching his broken nose, and fell against a crate, which split open.

Rhiannon found herself hard pressed by a giant of a man, whose misshapen ears and scarred features proclaimed him a boxer. He grinned at her, showing missing teeth. His head seemed to brush the ceiling of the cellar. He reached for her, and she moved away. If he trapped her within the circle of his oak-muscled arms, he could kill her easily.

Lina, having dispatched another opponent, saw her partner's danger out of the corner of her eye. She snatched up a board from the broken crate, and used the end to swat another man out of her way, hitting him in mid-air as he leaped at her. The faint shrilling of a police whistle made her shout, "In here, quickly! The cellar!"

The boxer turned around adroitly, making for a dark hole in the east wall. A pile of dusty boxes stood to one side. The whistling grew louder; heavy footsteps thundered on the stairs. Changing his mind, he moved with astonishing quickness and grabbed Rhiannon, twisting her wrist to force her to drop the poker. He held her tightly against him, his beefy arm across her throat.

Lina froze, the board half raised. "Olivetti," she said, her voice dangerously calm, "if you harm one hair of her head, men will shudder for a hundred years at the memory of your fate."

Olivetti's eyes glimmered in the golden lamplight. "Let me go," he replied. His accent was cultured, completely at odds with his rough appearance. "Call off your dogs or I'll break her neck."

Several policemen piled into the cellar. They halted at the sight of Olivetti, who clutched his hostage tighter.

"Back off," he said. "Just let me go. I'll not hurt her, but you have to let me go."

"This is your last offense, Olivetti. The judge has already put you down as a hard case. You'll not come out of Newgate alive," said one of the policemen, which earned a glare from Lina.

"Do desist," she said to him cuttingly. The policeman began a protest, which was interrupted by Olivetti.

The giant man held Rhiannon in a bruising grip. "I'll kill this little girl, I swear it."

Lina had advanced closer, but halted when Olivetti's handling elicited a gasp from Rhiannon. "This does not have to end violently," she said. "Release her at once, and I will do everything within my power to ensure that you have a fair trial."

"Fair?" Olivetti sneered. "Why should I believe you?"

"Henry?" a voice called from upstairs. It was the maid, Mary. "Henry, what's going on?"

"Stay up there, sweetheart," he called. "I'll join you in a moment."

Lina's steady gaze cut towards the staircase. "Your paramour?" she asked. "I suppose you love her."

"She's my woman," Olivetti replied. He jerked his elbow, forcing Rhiannon's head further back. "Now get out of my way."

Instead, Lina moved deliberately to block the staircase. She dropped the board, drew her French muff pistol, and pointed it up the stairway. "Mary, come down immediately or I shall shoot you where you stand. I am an excellent shot, and can hardly miss at this range. I assure you - and you, Mr. Olivetti - that even a small caliber bullet can do substantial damage to the human body."

Olivetti's agonized gaze shot towards the pistol. "Don't hurt her," he said hoarsely.

Mary's reluctant footsteps sounded on the treads. She appeared within a few moments, her lips trembling. The maid's dark hair was loose, her uniform torn at the hem. "Henry, do something," she said, giving Lina a look that promised murder.

"It seems that we are at an impasse," Lina said, reaching with her free hand to drag Mary the rest of the way down the stairs. She put the muzzle of her little gun against Mary's temple. "If you do not release Rhiannon at once, I shall kill your lover." Her emerald glance was filled with icy purpose. "Do not doubt me, Mr. Olivetti. Make no mistake, this woman will die the moment Rhiannon ceases to draw breath."

"Now, see here," said the impudent policeman. "We can't be having all this!"

"Do me the kindness of closing your mouth and not displaying your ignorance so prominently," Lina snapped at him. She turned her attention back to Olivetti. "Well, sir? What is your decision?"

Olivetti looked at Mary, then at Lina. "Ladies' guns don't hold many bullets," he said doubtfully.

In answer, Lina cocked back the hammer with her thumb. "Would you care to test your theory?"

Their eyes met. A bead of sweat trickled down Olivetti's scarred face. His mouth twisted, and he thrust Rhiannon away from him. Immediately, policemen fell upon the giant, wrestling his arms behind his back. Bulldog handcuffs were snapped into place around his wrists. The rest of the criminals were rounded up as well, including the man that Lina had shot.

Lina still had hold of Mary. "My dear," she said to Rhiannon, "did he hurt you?"

Rhiannon rubbed her aching arms, which were bruised to the bone. The small wound on her ear had opened, and her silk dress was spotted with blood. She was tired and exhilarated, all at the same time. "I'm fine, love." Although the pressure was off her throat, she still felt the iron bar of Olivetti's forearm pressing there. Her wrist hurt, too, where he had twisted it.

"Let go of me!" Mary squealed, pulling away from Lina. She stumbled into a policeman, who put her in handcuffs. She spat in his face, struggled to get away. She was quickly subdued.

Catching Olivetti's stare, Lina leveled her dainty pistol at him and pulled the trigger. He flinched. The hammer struck with a dry click. "As it happens," she told him, "I was out of ammunition."

Olivetti slumped, and allowed himself to be led away.

Rhiannon went to Lina and leaned against her. "I would have preferred to deal with a real poltergeist," she said. Lina kissed her, and gave her a handkerchief which Rhiannon used to dab at her bleeding ear.

Once upstairs, Lina sat Rhiannon down to have a look at her injury. Mrs. Terwilliger hovered over them, alternately exclaiming, gasping for breath, and on the verge of fainting from sheer excitement. Lina ignored her until she had attended to her partner's wound, which was small - a scrap of flesh torn from the upper part of the ear. Rhiannon's wrist was immobilized with a strip of linen, and Lina promised to apply arnica to her bruises when they returned home.

When she had finished, Lina poured Mrs. Terwilliger a brandy, gave Rhiannon a small glass of sherry, and settled down next to her on the sofa to relate her tale.

"Strange grinding noises," Lina said, recalling what Mrs. Terwilliger had related earlier. "Hollow voices, knocks and bangs. A missing rhinestone lavaliere, returned the morning after its disappearance. A parlor maid turned ladies maid. An overheard name - Olive. All these things, added to the fact of a bank across the street, led me to believe that Number 8, Wyvern Crescent was being used as a base for criminal activity."

Mrs. Terwilliger pressed a hand to her ample bosom. "Thieves? In my house? Oh, dear! However will I explain this to Lady Howard? She'll blame me for the entire thing, I'm sure!" Her corset was under severe strain.

"Be that as it may," Lina continued, overriding the matron's piteous exclamations, "please allow me to paint the picture in full. Harry Olivetti is a former boxer, now the head of a ruthless gang of thieves. He is the chief suspect in last year's robbery of the Duchess of Northcar's jewels. As I recall, the parlor maid was also implicated, but there was no real evidence against her."

"Mary! Oh, that perfidious chit of a girl!"

"Do calm yourself, madame." Lina got up, brought the brandy bottle from the tantalus, and set it on a table near Mrs. Terwilliger. "Now, then... this house fell vacant three weeks ago. I do not know when Olivetti first contrived his devilish scheme, but before you took possession, he and his gang had already begun work in the cellar. The idea was to dig a tunnel straight across the street, and come up beneath the floor of the bank vault." She turned to Rhiannon. "Perhaps, my dear, you recall a similar circumstance in which Holmes foiled the plans of one John Clay, who had formulated a plan to dig a tunnel through to the vault of the City and Suburban Bank at Saxe-Coburg Square."

"The Red Headed League is dissolved," Rhiannon murmured. Dr. John Watson's accounting of this strange case was due to be published by the Strand Magazine in next year's August edition.

"Precisely." Lina swung her gaze back to Mrs. Terwilliger, who was giving her a pop-eyed stare and clutching her brandy glass. "At any rate, the work began, but was interrupted by your arrival. Olivetti was forced to deception. From your remarks, I gathered that you had not interviewed anyone at the agency, but merely gave your requirements for appropriate servants. Meanwhile, Mary - the parlormaid whom we now know to be an associate of Olivetti's - was sent here by her lover, in order to seek employment. The gang needed someone inside the house. Mary took advantage of your situation to insinuate herself into a trusted position. Although she could not have known it, her references from the Duchess of Northcar practically guaranteed her a place in your household. You are, madame, a woman who thinks highly of such things."

"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Terwilliger, "I simply cannot have less than refined persons working for me. My nerves are too delicate for coarseness, you see. I thought that anyone who had been maid to the Duchess of Northcar must be all right. Oh, that horrible sneaking wench!"

"Mary let the gang into the house each night, and showed them out again in the morning. She only slipped once, when the lure of your lavaliere led her into an indiscretion. She took it, but Olivetti has a good eye for jewels and knew it for a copy. By this time, you were already convinced that your house was haunted, so you attributed its disappearance to poltergeist activity."

"And to think that I believed she was charming!" Mrs. Terwilliger cried indignantly.

Lina continued, "The tunnel entrance in the wall was concealed behind a stack of dusty boxes. Few people would bother to shift such a filthy load, assuming that there was a solid wall behind them. I ruined my gloves earlier today when I uncovered the truth. Olivetti's tunnel was nearly complete. His work was made easy by the fact that your cellar floor is hard packed earth, thus rendering disposal of superfluous dirt a simple matter. He and his men had less than two feet more to dig before they reached their target.

"I had to do something that would force Olivetti's hand, bring him to me in a time and place of my choosing. When I saw Mary in the sitting room, I deliberately said that Rhiannon and I would return at ten o'clock tonight, bringing with us a police inspector and Sherlock Holmes. It was after four o'clock, and the bank was closed. Mary sent a message to Olivetti. He and his men came here, hoping to finish their work, clear the vault, and be on their way out of the country before the authorities caught on to his scheme. Fear of Holmes led Olivetti to a desperate error in judgment." Lina plucked the sherry glass from Rhiannon's hands and took a delicate sip.

"So it was a trap!" Rhiannon retrieved her glass, giving Lina a mock glare.

"Yes, my dear, it was. We departed by hansom cab, but as you know, I remained here to watch the house while you went to Palmer & Sons to obtain information."

Rhiannon snorted. "A wild goose chase."

"Not at all. I knew the distance between the cellar and the bank, and the dimensions of the tunnel, but needed to know how long Olivetti's men had been working in order to determine approximately how many gang members he had at his disposal. You see, an average man who is not a mine worker or earthworks expert can dig only so many feet per six to eight hours each evening. My calculations included shoring-up the ceiling with timbers - a decidedly shoddy job, which told me that none of Olivetti's gang had such expertise. My hypothesis required the correct time frame. Once I knew how many days they had actually been working, I could then calculate approximately how many foes we would be facing.

"While you were gone, I alerted the police and arranged a signal. All this had to be done before the gang arrived, as I would not have had any way of communicating with the officers without possibly being spotted and alerting them to the trap. Had you told me that the house was vacant for a month or more, I would have known that Olivetti's gang was composed of perhaps two or three others. In that instance, I would have fired twice to let the police know that reinforcements were not necessary. They would have held off, as Olivetti is a dangerous man who is known to react badly when cornered. They were content to allow 'Mr. Holmes' to handle the situation. I am not above invoking the Master's name if it allow me to have my way."

"I see." Rhiannon smiled. "I, too, used Holmes as a name to conjure with, though without your success."

Lina returned her smile. "As it was, my dear, I only fired once - the signal that assistance was required immediately. I found their subsequent delay to be quite infuriating." Her face grew serious. "It was one of the worst moments of my life, when Olivetti took you hostage. Thank God the man did not know that I was bluffing. However, had my muff pistol been loaded, I would have killed Mary without hesitation had he harmed you."

"I had every confidence in you," Rhiannon said. "I never doubted you for a moment."

"But... but... what about me!" cried Mrs. Terwillger. "You should have told me!"

"I was confident that Olivetti would not harm you, madame," Lina explained. "He is a bank robber, not a murderer. Had they been caught with stolen goods, the men would have served time in gaol, but murder is a hanging offense, and Olivetti knew it. If I had informed you of my plan, you would no doubt have fled the premises, and my trap would have proved useless. Now you have been merely inconvenienced, and a dangerous criminal has been apprehended."

Mrs. Terwilliger was stunned. She goggled and spluttered, turning more and more crimson, until Lina feared she was about to perish from apoplexy.

"I do beg your pardon, madame," Lina said, bathing the woman's temples with a brandy-soaked handkerchief, "however, I deemed the deception necessary to lull the criminals into a false sense of security. Had I truly believed you were in danger, I would have acted immediately, I assure you."

Mrs. Terwilliger found her voice again and wailed, "Oh, but what am I going to tell Lady Howard?"

Lina's eyes twinkled. "Tell her that the criminals were forced to give up the ghost," she said.

Rhiannon groaned. "I'm dying to hear you tell that to Holmes. He deserves it."

Both women began to giggle.

"Well, it was his fault that we became involved in the case," Lina finally said. "I suppose we will have to take his interference in the spirit in which it was intended."

"Oh, that's perfectly frightful!" Rhiannon guffawed.

"Yes, this will no doubt haunt him for years!"

Mrs. Terwilliger's let out a scream of anguish at the puns, and her overstrained corset burst apart with a rending tear that utterly ruined her Worth gown.

THE END

<~~~~~ Return to the Library