by Dylan Tremont
(A role play by Dylan and Chase)
Chapter 1
“Young Detective of the Year”
I find the note folded on the breakfast table.
Joe,
I hope you get to feeling better. Dad and I are spending the day in San Diego
before attending the ceremony tonight. If the caretaker of Castle Seaside sends
a message, tell him I’ll be in touch. Above all else, Joe, do not investigate this
new mystery on your own. It sounds dangerous. When I get back, I’ll see to it
myself, little brother.
Frank
I hate it when he calls me “little brother.”
I’m only younger by a year and a half. And for the record, I’m feeling fine. I only said I was under the weather because I didn’t want to go to Frank’s silly award ceremony.
I came with him and Dad all the way to California from our home in Bayport (Mom stayed behind to help Aunt Gertrude with canning season). But now, I can’t do it. I’d just be sitting in the banquet room red-faced, getting more jealous by the second as they call Frank onstage to accept the “Young Detective of the Year” award.
It should have been both of us on that stage, not Frank! He only got the award because he’s older than me. By a measly year and a half.
There is a ping on my phone with a message from a Mr. Dyson. He introduces himself as the caretaker of Castle Seaside. He thinks he’s called Frank’s phone instead.
His message ends with a plea: “Please, young Mr. Hardy, can you help solve this mystery?”
I take a few seconds to make my decision and message back to set a time and location to meet. I sign-off the message as Frank Hardy.
I grab a fast shower, towel off, and dash on jeans and a light plaid shirt. I grab my bag of supplies and, most importantly, the notes Frank left behind about Castle Seaside. I snatch up the keys to the rental car and hurry out to solve this mystery — on my own!
Chapter 2
“The Solitary Sleuth”
According to Frank’s notes, the castle is a reproduction of an old fort found in San Marino (a republic near Italy). This new castle has been erected on the shore of Victoria Beach on the same property that houses an old stone lighthouse and tower.
Castle Seaside is a foreboding structure replete with big halls, lofty turrets, even a dark dungeon situated somewhere in the hollows of the hillside. To create the structure, builders imported stones from another castle in Italy — and that, according to the Victoria Beach locals, is why the castle is haunted!
A haunted castle???
When I see that part in Frank’s notes, it makes the tiny hairs on my arms stand at attention. I read on.
For the past week or so, the normally quiet castle has seen a number of chilling disturbances. Strange noises have emanated from within the stone walls. According to some, screaming and moaning have been heard coming from the depths of the castle. What’s more, the spectral image of a tall, dark-hooded man has been seen walking the parapet of the castle’s highest peak. His appearances usually happen right around midnight!
The residents of Victoria Beach are convinced the stones used in the fortification’s construction came from a haunted castle in Italy, and that some evil has been brought across the ocean to take up residence in this new seaside structure.
I close the folder of notes.
A creepy lighthouse and castle — strange sounds — and a spectral ghost? What a mystery! I have to admit, I’m a little scared — but more than ready for a new adventure.
It takes an hour to travel up the coast, but I find the castle easily enough. I park off the elevated highway and walk down to the beach area via a set of stone steps.
The castle is an amazing recreation. Very detailed…and very spooky. I listen and can’t detect any strange sounds coming from within. The only thing I hear is the sound of lapping waves and seagulls nearby.
I notice a wide cave under the castle with ocean trailing beneath.
I am suddenly reminded of that time last summer when Taffy Marr’s goons kidnapped me and kept me tied and gagged in a similar cave for two days. Frank and our friends came to my rescue — and just in the nick of time — I barely survived the ordeal. But Taffy Marr was caught by the Bayport police, and he’s now safely in custody. His diamond smuggling ring was busted-up. So there’s nothing to fear from the smugglers any longer.
I hear splashing and look over to see a couple of dorsal fins breaching the water near the cave’s entrance.
“Sharks,” a gravelly voice says behind me.
I turn to see a tall, fair-haired man. He wears a long dark coat and a cap pulled down low to shade his eyes.
“There’s no swimming or surfing at Victoria Beach,” he goes on. “Too many sharks.”
“That’s probably a good rule,” I say.
“You’re trespassing,” he says abruptly. “This is private property.”
“I’m not trespassing. I’m meeting the caretaker here.
“That’s me. I’m Dyson. You must be Frank Hardy.”
“Actually, I’m his brother, Joe.”
“But my boss wanted the Young Detective of the Year on this case…”
My face flushes hot.
“I’m a detective, too,” I point out. “And besides, my brother’s not Detective of the Year. Not officially — not until the ceremony tonight.”
Mr. Dyson smiles and takes a long pause to consider.
“Sort of a solitary sleuth, are you?”
“I’ve read up on your case,” I reassure him, “and I’m ready to get to work.”
“All right, then,” he responds. “Boss won’t mind, long as it’s a Hardy. But we can’t go in the castle. We don’t have permission yet. The Boss wants you in the lighthouse. Strange things’ve been happening in there. A young boy like you should find it most intriguing.”
“The lighthouse, huh?” I say. “Okay, Mr. Dyson. Lead the way.”
Chapter 3
“The Old Lighthouse Tower”
The ancient stone lighthouse is built into the side of a cliff. The edifice is designed to look like a medieval tower, straight out of “Rapunzel.”
We climb up crumbling stone steps to the wooden door.
“She used to be a lighthouse,” Mr. Dyson says as he utilizes a large skeleton key to open the heavy door. “Kids kept breaking in to do their drugs, or to make out, or to take pot shots at the reflectors. Authorities ended up putting a signal beacon on top of a jetty half a mile up beach.”
He opens the door, and I step in with him.
It’s roomy inside with an elevated wooden floor and winding metal stairs leading to the top spire. Construction equipment is scattered about. A piece of scaffolding — what looks like one of the narrow steel laddered sides — leans against the round wall, attached on top by chains that rise to an electronic wench high above.
“We had a construction crew in here working to shore up the tower,” he explains of the tools and hanging scaffold piece. “Their tools started disappearing. They found them moved all over the place. It spooked them so much, they swore they’d never come back. Not even to collect their equipment. Can you imagine that? Men like that don't scare easy. Wanna know what I think? I think they saw something else in here. Maybe that hooded specter come to pay them a visit…”
“Mr. Dyson,” I interrupt. “Would you mind if I looked about on my own?”
He stops talking and appears wounded, gives me a surly nod and goes out the door, silently closing it behind him.
“Thank you, sir,” I call after, appreciatively. I didn't mean to hurt his feelings. But his constant chatter was distracting me. I need to concentrate.
I start to investigate…and speculate.
Of course, the workers might have been scared off…but why would a ghost move tools around? Can ghosts even do that?
More likely, someone was using the tools without their permission and not putting them back in the same place.
Maybe someone wanted to scare the workers out of the tower because they were in the way, somehow.
But in the way of what?
I decide to investigate up top.
As I take the circular stairs, I notice maritime maps taped to the rounded walls.
There are several stacked on top of each other.
I’ll have to give the, maps a closer look when I come back down.
Once at the top, I see the main advantage of the tower.
At its position at the edge of the promontory, a person on top of the tower has a clear view of the bay to the north or the approach to the castle to the south. It’s a perfect lookout spot!
I look about the room. There are crushed cigarette butts kicked to the sides of the wall…a pair of binoculars…and a place on the wall where dust has been disturbed. It’s the same size as — yes! — the maritime maps below. That’s the connection!
I circle down the tower and stop at the maps.
I remove the top layer on the stack and see another map beneath with fresh markings.
It appears to be a schedule of arrival times and departures.
This is definitely the map that was up top —stashed behind the other maps so no one would find it…
…no one except Joe Hardy, of course.
I quickly take a snapshot of the map with my phone.
Behind me, I hear the wooden door open and close.
“Mr. Dyson,” I say, tucking my phone into my pocket and looking closer at the markings on the map, “I think I know why the workers were scared away. And I don't think it has anything to do with some ghost — ”
Suddenly, a wooden board connects flat with the back of my neck. My knees buckle, and as I slump, I am caught under my armpits by a pair of powerful hands.
“That oughta knock you out for awhile,” a voice says. “Long enough for me to get you trussed up good and tight…”
My eyes flutter closed, and I go limp in my attacker’s arms.
Chapter 4
“Captured!”
I slip in and out of consciousness, but I am aware of what’s being done to me:
I am dragged to the scaffolding ladder and my body leaned against it.
My ankles are lashed together with rope, cinched in the middle and tied off to a bottom rung.
My knees are joined, roped and cinched tight.
My hands are brought in front of me and bound together at the wrists.
Rope is laced across by chest and under/over each armpit, cuffing my shoulders to the nearest rung.
Another length of rope is then tied around my hands and pulled between my legs and roped tight to the ladder rung behind me. This draws my hands flat against my midsection.
As I stir awake, a cloth gag is pushed into my mouth and wrapped around my head, cleave gagging me tightly.
When the man steps back from securing the gag, I can see it is Dyson.
“It shoulda been your brother Frank tied to this ladder,” he says, “but like I said before, “Boss doesn’t mind — long as it’s a Hardy.”
I try to speak, but my words are garbled behind the cloth gag.
“Mpfffh ar pffew fdoingh fffis? Leppph mffph go!”
“I can tell you're trying to say something important. Let me help with that.”
He unfolds a long, thick, white cloth from his pocket and criss-crosses it around my mouth several times, flattening the cloth and muffling the sound from my lips, then tying the ends off to the rung behind my head. I'm now well-silenced, my head pulled back against a rung, lashing me even more securely to the ladder.
Dyson goes to the electrical controls for the wench and engages the motor.
The ladder to which I am bound begins to raise up straight. Then it slides to the center of the room. Then it lifts into the air.
I’m trembling with fear as I hover one foot…two feet…five feet off the ground!
Dyson stops the motor.
He walks around, appreciating my helpless state. During my collapse and relocation to the ladder, the last of the buttons on my shirt has come undone, and my bare chest is exposed. He runs a rough hand across my smooth chest. I try to recoil, but I can barely move.
“You Hardys won the gene pool lottery, that’s for sure,” he coos. “It’s a shame to waste such a fine-looking boy. But the boss has his orders.”
Dyson reaches down and undoes a latch on the wooden floor. He steps to the side and pulls an iron bar. The wooden floor beneath me falls open. I feel the cold clammy rush of ocean air rise up. The floor was really a set of doors and has now opened to a well that terminates into the sea water beneath the tower.
Suddenly, I hear the same splashing as earlier. Even though my head is tied back and my view is restricted, I know there are sharks in the water beneath me.
“So long, Joe Hardy, boy detective,” Dyson says as he reverses the wench motor, and the chain starts to lower me down. “This is one mystery you’re never going to solve.”
He laughs, turns to go, and closes the door behind him…as I squirm and mmmpfh behind my gag and slowly and steadily lower to the shark-infested waters below.
…to be continued…
What is the secret of the maps and markings?
Who is Mr. Dyson?
Who is the Boss, and why does he want the Hardys dead?
And most importantly…will Joe be fed to the sharks…
…or will he escape his bound and gagged peril???
