Early Saturday morning, October 7, 1950
The Rutherford house
Skip snuck happily back to his own bed after an hour or so, but awoke again at six fifteen and figured he might as well get up and get dressed. He was putting on his saddle shoes when he heard a man’s voice cry out, and several thumps, bumps, groans, and moans. “Now what?” Skip said to himself as he ran out of his bedroom. The hall, however, was surprisingly empty and no one seemed about.
He peered over the railing, the east-facing stained glass windows filling the landing and stairs with filtered, multicolored morning light. At the bottom he could just see Mr. Rutherford, his left ankle twisted oddly, looking up at Skip.
“I’m afraid the noise you heard was me falling down the stairs, Mr. Valentine.”
“Yikes.” Skip started down, but when he reached the top landing, Mr. Rutherford called up again.
Be careful. I tripped over something, I’m not sure what.”
Skip proceeded cautiously but could see nothing on the stairs. The hall clock was striking seven. The remains of the chandelier, Skip noticed, had been cleared away, leaving nothing but the wire and chain hanging from the ceiling.
“Are you all right?” Skip said.
“My ankle’s a bit turned, but I don’t think anything’s broken. Can’t imagine what I tripped on.”
“What happened?” Henry said, coming through the door under the landing. “I heard a lot of thumping.”
“I tripped on the stairs, but I’m okay,” Mr. Rutherford said.
“Where were you, Henry?” Skip said.
“Hmm? Oh, well, I slept quite soundly after we, uh, I mean, after I, uh, finally fell asleep. I woke up and thought I’d come down to the kitchen for a glass of milk. After I finished, I used the powder room under the stairs, which is when I heard all the noises.”
“You came down in your robe and pajamas?” Skip said.
“Sure. I didn’t want to get dressed just yet, and I figured everyone else was still asleep. I thought I’d go up to shave and wash before putting on what I planned to wear today.”
“I see. Well, get your uncle to his feet and into a comfortable chair, maybe get him some water. May I borrow your handkerchief, Mr. Rutherford?” Skip said, holding out his hand. “I want to check the stairs.”
“My handkerchief? Certainly,” he said, extracting it from his pocket. “Here you are, but what are you hoping to find?”
“Maybe whatever tripped you.” Skip took the handkerchief and climbed back up the first flight of stairs, scanning each riser carefully. Something caught his eye near the top. In the molding to the right was a tiny bit of fishing line. Just above it, a small screw protruded from the wood. Using the handkerchief like a glove, Skip carefully undid the screw and deposited it in the pocket of his trousers. He went back down and into the library, where Henry had helped Mr. Rutherford into an overstuffed chair and propped his leg up on the matching ottoman.
“Better ring for some ice for his ankle, Henry,” Skip said.
“Right,” Henry said, tugging on the bell cord by the fireplace.
“Did you find anything on the stairs, Mr. Valentine?” Mr. Rutherford said.
“As a matter of fact, sir, I did. A tiny screw in the molding, nearly invisible. Didn’t you say you’re always the first one up in the house? The first one downstairs?”
Mr. Rutherford nodded thoughtfully as he bent to massage his ankle. “Yes, always. They call me the early bird, and the early bird catches the worm, you know. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“Someone may have rigged a trip wire knowing you would be the first one down, so to speak. You could have broken your neck,” Skip said.
“A trip wire? That’s absurd.”
“I don’t think so. It would be a fairly simple matter to put a screw into the wood, attach a wire or string, and run it across the step and down the stair wall. Then all someone would have to do is wait for you to start to descend, give it a good tug, and trip you up. The wire probably wasn’t attached tightly to the screw, so when your foot hit it, it came loose. Whoever pulled it wound it back up and disappeared before you saw them.”
“Disappeared to where?” Mr. Rutherford said.
Skip walked back out into the hall and then returned. “They were probably standing next to the door under the landing, below where I found the screw, and then went through the door after you’d fallen,” he said. “Did you see anyone, Henry?”
“No, but I was in the toilet. The hall through that door also goes to the kitchen, basement, and yard.”
“I guess it could have been anyone,” Skip said, but he was looking at Henry.
“Or no one,” Mr. Rutherford said. “I don’t know about any screw in the wood, but most likely I tripped over my own feet, not paying attention. You have an active imagination.”
Skip looked doubtful. “I don’t know. The chandelier last night, and now this? It’s too much of a coincidence, in my opinion.”
“Well, a trip wire could hardly be considered an accident. But who in this household would seriously want to harm me, unless…”
“Unless?”
“It came to me last night after I’d gone to bed that I thought I saw Jake lurking in the shadows in the hall. I didn’t think much about it then because he’s always skulking silently about, but now, well, I don’t know what to think. Still, I’m surprised I didn’t notice a wire running across the steps. I have fairly keen eyesight.”
“It may not have been a wire. I found a small piece of what appears to be fishing line on the stairs, too, which is nearly invisible.” Skip’s mind went immediately to Henry again and his tackle box, as much as he didn’t want it to. “Did you lock your bedroom door last night, Henry, after I left?” Skip said.
“After you left, Mr. Valentine?” Mr. Rutherford said, raising an eyebrow. “What were you doing in Henry’s room?”
Skip felt his cheeks flush. “Oh, well, I went in briefly to borrow something, that’s all. So did you lock it?”
“My door? No, why?” Henry said, also embarrassed.
“Just a thought. By the way, Mr. Rutherford, did you hear anything around three this morning?”
He shook his head slowly. “No, nothing. I woke up at six, my usual time. I think I slept well considering all that happened earlier. Sister Barnabas gave me a sleeping draught, too. Why do you ask?”
“Because Henry and I both heard a dog barking and someone pounding.”
“At three in the morning?” Mr. Rutherford said, raising his eyebrows.
“That’s right. It woke us both up. I mean, it woke me up, and I got up to find that it had woken Henry up in his own room. We weren’t together, of course,” Skip said, his cheeks blushing once more as he remembered Mr. Rutherford’s earlier comments and accusations.
“It sounded as if the noises were coming from inside the house,” Henry said.
“Nonsense. You each had a bad dream. I’m afraid my mother’s put notions into both your heads is all. All that talk of Bitters and his dog haunting the house. Utterly ridiculous.”
“But it’s all so strange, Mr. Rutherford. And what are the chances of the chandelier falling just as you walked beneath it? And the trip wire at the top of the stairs?” Skip said.
“Most likely accidents, and I don’t believe in ghosts,” Ambrose said. “That screw may have been there for years, left over from when we had a runner on the stairs, perhaps.”
Henry and Skip both looked at each other as Miss Grant entered. “You rang, sir?”
“Mr. Finch did,” Skip said. “Mr. Rutherford’s had a bad spill down the stairs. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it.”
“I’ve been in the kitchen, starting breakfast.” She walked over to Mr. Rutherford. “Are you all right, sir?” she said.
“I’m fine. Just a bit of a swollen ankle, nothing broken. Would you be so kind as to bring me some ice for it?”
“Of course,” she said. “Perhaps you should have had a doctor look after you last night. You may have a concussion after all. You might have gotten dizzy, causing you to lose your footing.”
“I didn’t get dizzy or lose my footing. I tripped, Jane. Something or someone tripped me.”
“It does appear that way,” Skip said. “By the way, Miss Grant, did you happen to hear anything during the night? Around three this morning?”
She looked at Skip. “Why, no, I didn’t. I’m a sound sleeper, nothing wakes me except the dawn.”
“What about Jake?” Skip said. “Did he hear anything?”
“I don’t believe so, no. He didn’t say anything to me about any noises or barking. If he’d heard anything, he would have said something when I saw him this morning,” Miss Grant said.
“What time did you come down to start breakfast?” Skip said.
“I get up at five thirty and come down to the kitchen at six or six fifteen. Breakfast is ready by seven, sometimes a little earlier.”
“I suppose you use the back stairs,” Skip said.
“Of course,” she said. “Was there anything else you needed?”
“No, Jane, thank you,” Mr. Rutherford said.
“All right. As soon as I get that ice, I’ll finish setting everything up in the dining room.”
“Good. Oh, and Jane, tell Jake I wish to see him.”
“He’s started making the ice cream for tonight’s dinner, sir.”
“That can wait. I wish to see him immediately.”
Miss Grant looked troubled and upset. “Yes sir. Excuse me.”
“Mr. Rutherford, I think you should telephone the police and have them investigate this,” Skip said.
He held up his hand. “Absolutely not, I’d be a laughingstock. There’s no evidence.”
“I have the screw I extracted from the molding. It may have someone’s fingerprint on it,” Skip said, taking it out and holding it in the handkerchief for him to see.
Mr. Rutherford looked at it closely. “As I said, who knows how long it’s been there? And it’s so small I doubt there would be any prints, but if I decide to phone the police after I speak with Jake, I’ll bring it to their attention.”
“Do you think that’s wise, questioning him yourself?” Skip said. “Wouldn’t it be better to let the police do it?”
“If there actually was a trip wire, as you seem to think, and if Jake was involved, it may have been his idea of a practical joke, that’s all. Not a funny one, I must admit, but just a joke. I don’t want to get the authorities involved unless absolutely necessary, for his sake and Jane’s.”
“You could have been killed,” Skip said.
“I highly doubt it. The chandelier almost completely missed me. And the little fall down the stairs? As you can see, I’m none the worse for wear except for a sprained ankle. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow. Now don’t give it another thought, please. Besides, we have a nurse in the house, remember? I’ll be well taken care of.”
“I still think it should be reported, but that’s up to you, of course.”
“Indeed it is.” He nodded toward Henry. “You should get dressed before Sister Barnabas sees you cavorting about the house in your robe and pajamas.”
“Oh, yes, I will. Time got away from me. It’s getting late.”
“I’ll say it is,” Skip said. “We were supposed to meet in the upstairs hall at seven, and here it is a quarter past, and you’re not dressed.”
“As I said, time got away from me.”
“I’m sure,” Skip said, turning to Mr. Rutherford once more. “Where is Sister Barnabas, by the way?”
“Probably giving my mother her morning sponge bath. She’ll be down later.”
“Most likely she hasn’t heard all this commotion, then. Let’s go back up to your room, Henry. I want to check something, and then you can finally get dressed. We’ll be down later for breakfast, Mr. Rutherford.”
“Certainly, take your time. I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
“Let us know if you need anything, Uncle.”
“I will. Now run along and get dressed. I need to speak with Jake.”
Skip and Henry went up to Henry’s bedroom, leaving Mr. Rutherford in his chair, his leg still elevated upon the ottoman.
“Where’s your tackle box?” Skip said as they entered Henry’s bedroom.
“Right here by the door,” he said, pointing down to the rusty gray box sitting next to the dresser.
“Hmm, convenient for someone to slip in during the night or early morning hours and take a piece of your fishing line to use as a trip wire,” Skip said. “Who knew you had it?”
Henry scratched his head. “Well, Miss Grant and Jake, of course, from when we arrived, and everybody else, too, I guess. I mentioned it at dinner, remember?”
“Right. Hmm. Take a look inside. Does it look like anything’s been disturbed?”
Henry bent down and examined the contents. “It’s hard to tell,” Henry said, closing the lid. “I am afraid I’m not as fastidious as I should be when it comes to my fishing equipment, and I doubt I’d miss a little fishing line. The new spool hasn’t been touched, but I have a partial one in there, too. Someone may have snipped some off.”
“Okay. By the way, did you notice what Miss Grant said when I asked if she’d heard anything during the night?”
“Sure, she said she hadn’t heard anything and that she was a sound sleeper. Only the dawn wakes her.”
“Exactly,” Skip said. “But what didn’t she say?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, she didn’t ask why I was wondering that or what, if anything, I had heard.”
“Gee, you’re right. And when you asked if Jake had heard anything, she mentioned the barking. How would she know if she hadn’t heard it? I admit that’s a bit odd,” Henry said.
“She’s a bit odd.”
“I’m beginning to think so, too.”
“Also, did you notice how upset she seemed when your uncle said he wished to see Jake right away?”
“Yeah, do you think she thinks Jake had something to do with the accidents?”
“Possibly. Maybe he did. And why would Miss Grant lie about hearing the pounding and barking?”
“I don’t know, but we should steer clear of this Jake character. He sounds like trouble.”
“I agree, but we don’t know all the goings-on of this house and the relationships within it yet.”
“And I don’t think it’s our business to find out, Skip,” Henry said.
“Mr. Rutherford should have at least reported it to the police.”
“But maybe he did trip over his own feet, as he said.”
“You think it was an accident, too?”
“I’m not sure. I mean, it’s possible the screw could have been there for a while. And it’s possible the chandelier just fell. We don’t know. At least he wasn’t badly injured, and he seems to want to handle it himself with Jake, so I think we should forget about it.”
“What about that tiny piece of what appeared to be fishing line?”
“If that’s what it was, it could have been stuck in the lid of my tackle box and dropped off when Jake carried it upstairs, or it could have been lying there for years. Remember, Mrs. Rutherford and her husband used to fish. Anyway, I suppose I’d better get dressed. I’m peckish.”
“Okay. Say, after we eat, why don’t we take a stroll and explore the neighborhood? It looks like a lovely morning.”
“Sure, that sounds good,” Henry said. “I’ll meet you in the dining room for breakfast as soon as I’m ready.”
“Okay. By the way, do you happen to have a nail file and a paper clip?”
“Huh? What for?”
“Never mind. Do you?”
“Well sure, I have a nail file in my shaving kit, and there’s a paper clip on those papers the attorneys gave me for my records,” Henry said.
“Good. Let me have them, please.”
Henry got the items and handed them to Skip. “Here you go. Part of me wants to know why you want them and another part definitely doesn’t. I’m surprised you don’t have a nail file of your own.”
“I do, but I broke it earlier last night. See you in the dining room. Careful on the stairs,” Skip said with a smile as he put the paper clip and file in his trousers pocket and exited Henry’s bedroom. He went down, holding carefully to the banister and watching for anything else out of the ordinary on the steps.