Читать книгу Murder Fit for a King - Larry McCloskey - Страница 6

“I’m mad,” Dani said, wrinkling her forehead like a distressed beagle.

Dani’s beagle, Nikki, howled at a passing squirrel before placing his wrinkled forehead between his paws on his master’s foot.

Caitlin watched the pair and thought, They say that if a couple stays together long enough, they begin to look alike. Poor Dani.

“I’m mad!” Dani repeated, this time with a little more volume and a lot more wrinkles.

“Dani, you can’t stay mad at your dad forever. Besides, maybe you’ll get to like a cottage closer to Ottawa. Three hours was an awful long time driving to your old cottage.”

Dani folded her arms as if hugging herself. “I don’t care if another dumb cottage is closer. I want my cottage back.”

“But, Dani, it’s kind of true what your dad said about us asking ‘Are we there yet?’ every few minutes. Besides, there might be a whole bunch of fun cottages up in the Gatineau Hills like your dad says.”

“I don’t care, and I’m still mad. I’m not going to look at dumb old cottages. I still can’t believe Dad sold our cottage. We’ve had it ever since I was a baby. We went there every year for my birthday and for summer holidays and for Thanksgiving.” Dani unfolded her arms and dropped them to her sides, sighing grandly.

“The cottages in the pictures looked pretty cool,” Caitlin said.

“I don’t care!”

Caitlin could see the gelato Dani’s dad, John, had promised for cottage-hunting company melting away. This will have to be handled very carefully, she thought. “Dani, if we go look at cottages, we can build a great big pile of leaves and jump in it.”

“I don’t care about dumb leaves!”

“Dani, we could let Nikki run loose. You know how much he loves that.”

“Nikki doesn’t care, either.”

Caitlin spit out one of her blond braids and thought, Time to get serious. “We could go and you could stay mad at your dad and he’ll see how rotten every cottage is and maybe he’ll buy back your old cottage.”

Dani pulled on Nikki’s leash and started striding away from her friend.

“Hey, Dani, where are you going?” “Come on, Caitlin, let’s go look at those rotten cottages.”

“Ghost tour?” Dani asked through smacking gum.

“That’s right.” John glanced at the girls in the rearview mirror. “Our tenth prime minister, William Lyon Mackenzie King, used to spend his summers here in the glorious Gatineau Hills at his estate on Kingsmere Lake. Get it — King at Kingsmere? Anyway, turns out our holder of highest office was a bit of a kook. It seems he spent a fair bit of time chatting with his dead mom.” John checked the rearview mirror to see if the girls were suitably impressed.“Dad, the road, you know,” Dani said between gum smackings.

“And don’t forget, Mackenzie King was our prime minister during our time of greatest crisis,” John continued. “Canada was at war with Germany and Japan, a war we very nearly lost, and during it all, Mackenzie King was probably conversing with his maternal ghost for advice about war and how to run the country. Now that’s a spooky piece of history!”

“Dad, are you serious about a ghost tour?” Dani asked. “I thought we were looking at dumb cottages.”

“We can look at cottages after the tour, which starts in exactly three minutes. And what better time for a ghost tour than two weeks before Halloween.” John pulled the van into a parking lot. “Look, there’s a group gathering over there. I’ll run over and see if they’re here for the ghost tour.”

The girls watched as John ran to the group, then dashed back.

Louise, Dani’s stepmother, chewed on her sunglasses and mumbled, “I think we’d better get Nikki to teach John how to relax.”

“Girls, Louise, come on, the ghost tour’s starting. Oh, Dani, better bring Nikki’s leash. He might bolt if he gets spooked.”

John giggled at his own joke as he frantically searched the van for his sunglasses, his hat, and other paraphernalia. Louise, the girls, and Nikki reluctantly joined the back of the group.

“This is going to be boring,” Dani said, folding her arms.

“This is going to be interesting,” John said, catching up and rubbing his hands together. “Come on, Louise, let’s move up closer to the front.”

“Oh, joy,” Louise muttered, her words lost in the October wind.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the National Capital Commission’s Ghost Tour,” an enthusiastic voice boomed, hidden to the girls somewhere on the front lines. “We’re pleased to present to you today a fascinating glimpse into Canadian history here at the beautiful Mackenzie King Estate, or as most people call it, Kingsmere.”

The tour group spread around the voice until the girls caught sight of a middle-aged man in matching tan shirt, vest, hat, and neatly creased pants. “For it is here that our esteemed prime minister thought about the weighty affairs of Canada and consorted with and was advised by his long-dead mother. In short, ladies and gentlemen, the leader of our country, and Canada’s longest-serving prime minister, may have taken counsel from a ghost, or perhaps a series of ghosts, and as such was just plain nuts!” Members of the tour group snickered as the tan man prattled on. “But seriously, folks...”

“Dumb ghost tour,” Dani said to Caitlin, tuning out.

“Ha-ha, very smart,” John said to no one in particular at the front of the group.

“And finally, to complete today’s tour, we’ll end up at the Moorside Tearoom just in time for tea and Mrs. Simpson’s delectable pumpkin pie.” The tan man paused and rubbed his stomach. “Mmm!”

The tour group members responded with an enthusiastic chorus of “Mmm!”

“But first,” the tour guide added, “let’s stroll down to Kingsmere Lake and see the guest house, or should I say, ghost house. Ha, ha, ha ...”

Over the noise of the entire group, John could be heard guffawing.

Dani groaned. “Now I’m really mad. Fake ghost tour, fake cottages, fake trees.”

“Fake trees?” Caitlin said. Then she thought, Dani’s arms are wrapped so tightly around her that she looks like a mad scientist in a straitjacket. Caitlin couldn’t resist tormenting her friend, so she rubbed her stomach and said, “Mmm!”

Dani moaned and squeezed all the harder.

The voice of the ghost tour guide faded away as the girls drifted farther back. Only one straggler remained on the trail behind the girls.

“Guess we haven’t got a ghost of a chance of meeting a real ghost on this fake tour,” Caitlin said.

Dani tried to wipe her nose but struggled to untangle her hand from her overall strap. “It’s ’cause adults don’t believe in ghosts, so they feel they have to make dumb adult jokes about them.”

“Yes, yes, you’re quite right,” a peevish voice behind the girls agreed. “Mind you, I never had children myself to compare with adults. Never did get married. And though I didn’t dislike children, I always had a strong preference for a canine companion, as you can see.”

The girls rotated slowly toward the tour group straggler. The short, stocky man stood with one hand on his walking stick and the other holding a leash attached to his dog, a small terrier. The straggler was dressed in a tweed suit with long, baggy shorts, high wool socks, and leather hiking shoes. The way the man and his dog held their heads and looked around the estate seemed to indicate they were familiar with the place. As he spoke to the girls, he remained expressionless in spite of his bizarre words.

“Oh, it’s true in part what these people say about my peculiarities. But they don’t really understand, and under the present circumstances, well, I think I’ve been proven correct, not that the public cares to take note. So it wasn’t a grand delusion, was it?” The odd man ceased his rambling for a moment and stooped to pat his dog on the head. “There, there, Pat.” The dog glanced at the object of his affection and wagged his tail.

“Mister, we have to get back to the ghost tour ’cause my dad and my six uncles are waiting for us,” Dani said nervously.

At the same time Caitlin thought, Wow, I wonder if Dani noticed that this is the first dog Nikki hasn’t howled at in his entire life! Then Caitlin cocked her head and asked the strange man, “What exactly wasn’t a grand delusion?”

Before the stranger could start speaking again, Dani motioned with her eyes, the signal for getting the heck out of there. Caitlin ignored her friend and listened to the babbling stranger.

“Why, my belief in the afterlife, of course. After all, as you and only you can see, here I am. I’m all but forgotten by young people today, except for an occasional unkind and inaccurate remark they seem to latch on to about my dear mother. But most people can’t possibly understand how close my mother and I were, how much I missed her when she died, and what comfort it was to communicate with her on the other side.”

Dani was speechless, but her eyes raced through an assortment of expressions, all of which seemed intent on impressing Caitlin with the need to run as if they were being pursued by a pack of wild dogs.

“If she was your mother, and you were close to her, wouldn’t she already be on your side?” Caitlin asked, ignoring Dani.

“Indeed,” the stranger said thoughtfully, “we are, naturally, on the same side now, but when I served as prime minister, in times of need, we were able to communicate between the worlds of the living and the dead ...”

Dani’s eyes were now as wide and round as two saucers as she pushed Caitlin down the path toward the ghost tour. “Well, mister, it’s been real nice and real instructional meeting you.”

The stranger followed the girls, carefully placing his walking stick and peering down at his dog, who happily followed by his master’s side. “Still, the notion that I governed the country, particularly through the turbulent war years, on the advice of my mother is preposterous. After all, one’s private life and public duties aren’t at all the same thing. Those séances were meant to keep my spirits up — pardon the seeming pun — so I could function as a proper prime minister and make decisions for the good of the country. Never in twenty-two years did I allow myself to be influenced by personal matters, let alone ...”

The girls watched the stranger stumble through the forest and go past them without looking up until he was quite alone. Suddenly, he became aware of his solitude and cast his eyes around for his audience. Blinking into the sunlight, he appeared lost and confused, then pivoted and skewered his audience of two with new determination. “Perhaps I haven’t been as clear as I should. You see, I’m a ghost.”

“How, how, how ...?” Dani sputtered.

“Who, who, who ...?” Caitlin stammered.

The two girls could have been a pair of monkeys speaking like a couple of owls.

“How is a rather complicated question that I can’t fully answer, but who is easy. I am William Lyon Mackenzie King, naturally, and this is Pat, my lifetime, uh, ghost-time friend.”

“Naturally,” Caitlin said, chewing nervously on one of her French braids.

“But, why, why, why ...?” Dani continued to splutter.

The stranger’s voice became steadier and more self-assured as he spoke. “My purpose is none other than to protect this glorious park. And though less important, I hope to redeem something of my rather muddled reputation. But I can’t achieve either of these important goals without your help.” The stranger paused for a moment as if lost in thought, then asked a bit ruefully, “By the way, did I mention that doing all this involves solving a rather troublesome murder?”