The Ghost of Simon Fraser

By Edward J. Laurie

Simon Fraser has returned from the dead. This is no surprise to his fortune telling friend Millicent Zacharias who thought his sudden heart attach and subsequent cremation a bit too fast and "hokey" to be believed. Besides, her Tarot deck never showed the old man's name along with the Death card. Mrs. Z's cards never lie.

Someone has been about the business of elimination the original member's of the Detective Club. Simon's assistant Tom McElrath and his wife had a near miss by dropping a flight east and stopping over at Denver. The plane they were supposed to be on was blown up in the air. Ginnie Smith, her husband, and tiny son have been killed and their house burnt to the ground.

Simon, returned from a government journey to Iraq will not discuss why he disappeared and what he did. He is now accompanied by a cold-eyed young man named Archer Shane whose task it is to keep him alive and who takes his work seriously.

The remaining members of the Detective Club: Millicent Zacharias, Prentice Dodd and Lieutenant Robert Campbell are not inclined to take the precautions Simon or Archer think they should.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468581324

Edward J. Laurie

The author, like his protagonist, is a retired professor of some 87 years of age and hence is more than familiar with the vagaries which afflict Simon Fraser. Other than that, there is no resemblance between the two whether or not his friends sometimes think otherwise. This is his tenth novel with Author House and he is a serious admirer of their clever paperback front cover designs. Sometimes he believes they may be better than his stories.

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© 2012 Edward J. Laurie. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 4/27/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-8132-4 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-8131-7 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012906611

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epiloguet

Cast of Characters

About the Author

Other Books by Edward Laurie

The Borgia Blade

A Little Pinch of Death

The Seven Keys of Sara Seldon

The Detective Club

A Ladder of Death

One Murder for Money

The Devil’s Own Imp

The Ghost of Simon Fraser

Simon Fraser & The Demon’s Cave

Dedicated to two gone old friends:

Jack Aberle

and

Marshall Bean

Chapter 1

Phillip Pennington, JD, Ph.D., MBA, CPA, seated behind the spacious surface of his walnut desk, was speaking to a client on the telephone:

Yes, he said, with as much of a sigh as he would ever allow.

A momentary expression of resignation which he seldom, if ever, countenanced crossed an otherwise stoic visage.

It is a good thing I allowed you to give away only half your fortune, and even then I thought it perhaps imprudent to be so generous.

He listened to the voice on the other end of line with his usual patience. Yes, he said, "I have been able to keep any losses to but 18% at the moment, and in good time we should be able to recover fully if my advice is followed or I’m allowed some freedom of action on my own.

"The estate transfer has now been completed. As far as I can tell, all of your instructions have been followed. Though it has been somewhat expensive, the house has been fully restored to the condition in which you left it. That took some time and reconstruction here and there, but young Mr. McElrath was agreeable, and I kept the cost to a minimum.

Yes. Both of you have benefitted from the transaction. Fortunately, it was not a zero sum game. When you do move in, the staff you requested have agreed to be on hand. That’s very kind of you. Thank you, but that’s what you pay me for.

He gave thought to all those young fools out there pretending to be financial advisers to the rich and careless. Greed, he snorted to himself. Greed’s the principal mischief.

Phillip Pennington enjoyed keeping the money of his clients prudently invested and in balance, if for no other reason than it kept his own financial condition safe and sound.

He liked the fellow he had been advising on the phone, a man of scrupulous honesty who had, through his own investigations, sent several high-ranking corporate criminals to prison. They had been sloppy and there was no excusing sloth. Too often Pennington had encountered false balance sheets and corporate hype, the latter often exposed by his habit of reviewing the assets and dividends of the corporations in which he invested his clients’ and/or his own money. He also had a habit of checking the effectiveness of managers, particularly in times of business downturns and other economic shifts. He had always exercised enormous caution in the matter of high profits. To be sure, they could be made, but they required the maximum supervision and that was by no means easy.

His thoughts were interrupted by another phone call. He picked up the receiver and listened. As he did, his eyes grew cold and his mouth moved into a thin hard line. In this case, I’m not interested in details, he said grimly. I’m interested in results. You have the proper information and equipment for the job. I would think there would be no more delays.

He put his receiver down on the cradle rather more forcefully than usual. His eyes hardened again.

They’d best get it right this time around, he thought, and allowed himself one more small sigh, this time of only momentary discontent. Then he ordered lunch.

Millicent Zacharias, broad-shouldered, tall, red-headed, seeress extra-ordinaire, savant, and teller of fortunes, had been to an evening farewell party at an estate called ‘Spancourt’ to mark the departure of her young friend, Thomas McElrath, and his charming bride, formerly Allison Randolph, a relative of the Virginia Lees. Allison had lately inherited further family wealth and Thomas had bowed to her desire to return to her native state. This had been made surprisingly easier by the fact that Phillip Pennington, Thomas’s financial adviser, had appeared at about the same time with a healthy offer for Spancourt and all its furnishings, which minimized any loss due to the falling value of estates in the area.

Thomas had inherited the demesne from his former employer, Simon Fraser. As usual, the close-mouthed Pennington would not identify the buyer, only that the fellow had been an admirer of Simon Fraser as a solver of crimes and wanted things left, in all their detail, as they were before Dr. Fraser had died.

To Mrs. Zacharias’s distress this meant the Detective Club, her favorite social activity, was breaking up. The Club met whenever it struck Mrs. Zacharias, its self-appointed chairwoman, to call a meeting.

Originally, the Club consisted of Dr. Simon Fraser, a retired university professor; Lieutenant Robert Campbell of the Ben Nevis Homicide Division, a man nicely undisturbed by ego; Thomas McElrath, Simon’s assistant, and young brother-in-law of the Lieutenant; Mrs. Zacharias’s beautiful niece Ginny Smith and her architect husband Charlie; Prentice Dodd, the local book seller and meticulous misogynist, and herself.

The Club, at Mrs. Zacharias’s command, always met at Prentice Dodd’s apartment above his bookstore because his apartment was considerably larger than her own, as was the building he owned, and also centrally located in downtown Ben Nevis, whereas her own apartment was above a much smaller shop nearer the southern edge of town.

Furthermore, Prentice had a marvelous, large antique dining table, probably inherited from his mother, which could easily seat the members of the Detective Club on equally elegant antique chairs. The sideboard contained a host of minor ancient items which Prentice Dodd referred to as my treasures.

Mrs. Zacharias had purchased her own small building and converted the lower floor into a garage available from a back alley. She had the showroom front window boxed in a few feet back and, in the window, had set up a small table covered in green felt on top of which sat a small gold stand and a glowing crystal ball. The draped background was of black velvet. It was her one form of advertising beyond word of mouth, and, understated, it often drew a client or two from the tourists passing by.

A broad wooden staircase led on the east side of the building to a balcony which then swept around the north side. The entrance to the apartment was on the east side and the view and back balcony faced north to give Mrs. Zacharias a fine view of the hills beyond.

She used her parlor for readings, had a small private room for her library and personal use, an equally small kitchen, and a large and roomy bedroom with that prize of most women, a large walk-in closet. Her furnishings were also antiques, but of less worth no doubt than those of Prentice Dodd.

The Detective Club members habitually dealt with various books on crime and murder and, on some occasions, against the surrendering protests of Lieutenant Campbell, when their attention focused on a current case under his jurisdiction.

To the Lieutenant’s oft but mildly expressed surprise, they had actually proven useful in several cases. This was most particularly true of the contributions of the late Professor Simon Fraser who was known to the local press as ‘the genius of crime,’ because it was often he who helped the good, if sometimes baffled, Lieutenant solve a murder case in the area. Simon justly deserved the credit, though he demeaned the publicity which sometimes followed.

Ben Nevis, a small beach town and fishing village along the shores of the Pacific, south of San Francisco and north of Santa Cruz, was eternally crowded with passers by. Not unlike Agatha Christie’s villages, a surprising number of murder cases seemed to come the Lieutenant’s way.

During the last case in which Simon Fraser had been heavily involved, the strain had caused the good Doctor to have a heart attack. He was declared dead at the scene and hauled away with a haste which aroused serious suspicion in the mind of Millicent Zacharias.

Furthermore, Simon’s body had been cremated with unseemly haste and no farewell ceremonies were allowed, allegedly at the deceased’s request. All this was handled with calm and alacrity by Phillip Pennington, Simon’s investment counselor and lawyer. Mr. Pennington, the cold-eyed, expressionless, bald, legal eagle, as Simon’s assistant called him, had dealt with the will.

To everyone’s surprise, Simon had been considerably wealthier than they had supposed. He had set up retirement trust funds for Marie Brown, his cook and housekeeper; retired police Sergeant Karl Bender, his chauffeur and guardian of his life and estate; and Fred, his ancient gardener. Too, a special trust fund had been set up for Lieutenant Campbell to take effect upon his retirement.

Spancourt, Simon’s elegant residence, built for him by his wealthy wife years earlier on before she was killed in an airport accident, was bequeathed to Simon’s young assistant, Tom McElrath.

The bigger surprise came when Pennington dryly noted that the sum of $500,000 had been left outright to each member of the Detective Club: Millicent Zacharias, Prentice Dodd, Robert Campbell (beyond his retirement arrangements)