P'town Murders: A Bradford Fairfax Murder Mystery by Jeffrey Round Page A
Authors: Jeffrey Round
Ads: Link
lunged at him out of the darkness. Brad stifled a yell and fell back with a thud. The room plunged into darkness and silence again.
He lay there listening. Nothing moved. Had it been the ghost of Maud Lacey, still haunting her house after all these years? Brad wasn't sure he was ready to believe in ghosts. Still on his back, he struck another match. Towering over him, a polar bear reared on its hind legs, claws menacing the air and teeth set to tear apart anything that got in its way. Thankfully, its time for destruction was long past.
By the light of the fading match, a row of stuffed puffins sat laughing silently at him. They'd known all along it wasn't Maud Lacey's ghost. Off in another corner, a ship's anchor had come to rest. The match died again. Brad stood and lit another. He moved softly about the room whose walls were covered in maps and charts that once belonged to Admiral MacMillan and his crew. They'd been seeking a new world at the top of the globe, but somehow all routes had led to Provincetown.
A wall hanging caught his eye. Three silhouettes crossed a wooden bridge as a flock of birds winged silently past a pagoda. A boat waited in the distance. Something protruded from behind the weave. Brad ran his hands over the hanging and felt the wall shift. He gave a quick push and a panel opened.
He was in the secret slave closets! The darkness ahead was pierced by pinpricks of light. Brad eased his way along till he found himself peering through a hole into a sumptuous bathroom with smoked glass walls. Whatever else it might contain, his host was noticeably absent. He continued on to the next peephole.
As he inched forward, Rosengarten's voice came booming through the wall.
"Are you threatening me?" Brad heard him snarl.
He could see his host pacing around a large oak desk, the phone pressed to his ear.
"Try me, you son of a bitch!" Hayden spat into the receiver. There was another pause. "Well, join the parade. Lots of people would love to see me dead!"
Shifting his gaze, Brad saw the Nubian bodyguard standing inside the door.
"You listen to me, you little worm!" Hayden sneered. "You're a fake and we both know it. I'll expose you to the whole world if you try anything else!"
Rosengarten hung up violently just as a knock came at the door. Ichabod entered wearing an agitated look.
"Yes, Jeremiah?"
"It seems one of our guests has vanished," the thin man said, his gloomy gaze roaming the room. "A certain Mr. O'Shaughnessy."
Oh-oh! Brad thought. Gotta scram!
Rosengarten motioned to the bodyguard. "Cyrus, take Johnny K. and find him. He can't be far."
Brad watched as Ichabod exited behind the guard, then he hurried back down the darkened passage to the Arctic Collection. He peered out into the hallway in time to see Ichabod descending the stairs along with the two guards.
He waited till they were out of sight before slipping from the room and across the landing. He'd just reached the top of the stairs when he heard footsteps coming up. He froze. It would be impossible to return to the Arctic Room without being seen. Gauging his chances, he decided to take a risk.
He sprinted down the hall to Hayden's door and stood in the doorframe, smiling invitingly. A hand lingered suggestively over his crotch.
"Hi there!" he called out. "I was hoping to catch you alone."
Hayden's steely eyes took in his guest. "Ah! My young friend with the father complex. I seem to have become somewhat of an obsession for you."
Whoever had been coming up the stairs arrived at the door right behind Brad.
"Yes, Joseph," Rosengarten snapped. "What can I do for you?"
The young man stopped in his tracks. "I was... just coming to see if everything was okay, sir," he said.
"It's all right," Hayden said. "Mr. O'Shaughnessy was just expressing an interest in my... well-being. You can go back down."
"Yes, sir!" The boy disappeared down the hall.
Rosengarten waited, his eyes on Brad. "Come in, Mr. O'Shaughnessy," he said, leaning against
He lay there listening. Nothing moved. Had it been the ghost of Maud Lacey, still haunting her house after all these years? Brad wasn't sure he was ready to believe in ghosts. Still on his back, he struck another match. Towering over him, a polar bear reared on its hind legs, claws menacing the air and teeth set to tear apart anything that got in its way. Thankfully, its time for destruction was long past.
By the light of the fading match, a row of stuffed puffins sat laughing silently at him. They'd known all along it wasn't Maud Lacey's ghost. Off in another corner, a ship's anchor had come to rest. The match died again. Brad stood and lit another. He moved softly about the room whose walls were covered in maps and charts that once belonged to Admiral MacMillan and his crew. They'd been seeking a new world at the top of the globe, but somehow all routes had led to Provincetown.
A wall hanging caught his eye. Three silhouettes crossed a wooden bridge as a flock of birds winged silently past a pagoda. A boat waited in the distance. Something protruded from behind the weave. Brad ran his hands over the hanging and felt the wall shift. He gave a quick push and a panel opened.
He was in the secret slave closets! The darkness ahead was pierced by pinpricks of light. Brad eased his way along till he found himself peering through a hole into a sumptuous bathroom with smoked glass walls. Whatever else it might contain, his host was noticeably absent. He continued on to the next peephole.
As he inched forward, Rosengarten's voice came booming through the wall.
"Are you threatening me?" Brad heard him snarl.
He could see his host pacing around a large oak desk, the phone pressed to his ear.
"Try me, you son of a bitch!" Hayden spat into the receiver. There was another pause. "Well, join the parade. Lots of people would love to see me dead!"
Shifting his gaze, Brad saw the Nubian bodyguard standing inside the door.
"You listen to me, you little worm!" Hayden sneered. "You're a fake and we both know it. I'll expose you to the whole world if you try anything else!"
Rosengarten hung up violently just as a knock came at the door. Ichabod entered wearing an agitated look.
"Yes, Jeremiah?"
"It seems one of our guests has vanished," the thin man said, his gloomy gaze roaming the room. "A certain Mr. O'Shaughnessy."
Oh-oh! Brad thought. Gotta scram!
Rosengarten motioned to the bodyguard. "Cyrus, take Johnny K. and find him. He can't be far."
Brad watched as Ichabod exited behind the guard, then he hurried back down the darkened passage to the Arctic Collection. He peered out into the hallway in time to see Ichabod descending the stairs along with the two guards.
He waited till they were out of sight before slipping from the room and across the landing. He'd just reached the top of the stairs when he heard footsteps coming up. He froze. It would be impossible to return to the Arctic Room without being seen. Gauging his chances, he decided to take a risk.
He sprinted down the hall to Hayden's door and stood in the doorframe, smiling invitingly. A hand lingered suggestively over his crotch.
"Hi there!" he called out. "I was hoping to catch you alone."
Hayden's steely eyes took in his guest. "Ah! My young friend with the father complex. I seem to have become somewhat of an obsession for you."
Whoever had been coming up the stairs arrived at the door right behind Brad.
"Yes, Joseph," Rosengarten snapped. "What can I do for you?"
The young man stopped in his tracks. "I was... just coming to see if everything was okay, sir," he said.
"It's all right," Hayden said. "Mr. O'Shaughnessy was just expressing an interest in my... well-being. You can go back down."
"Yes, sir!" The boy disappeared down the hall.
Rosengarten waited, his eyes on Brad. "Come in, Mr. O'Shaughnessy," he said, leaning against
Similar Books
