Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
Feeling relieved, Frank said, "Thanks, Joe. I'll go with Callie. See you later." He headed after Callie, who was already walking to her carr while Joe flirted with Tessa on the way to the van.
" 'And is this your sister?' " Callie said, mocking Tessa's voice. "Sorry, Frank, I can't help it, she makes me furious! Did you catch the way she was looking at you?"
Frank put his arm around Callie. "I know," he said. "She's obviously spoiled rotten. But don't worry about me. It's Joe who seems to be falling for her."
Callie took out her keys as Frank went around to the passenger side of her car. "Yeah, but she definitely has her eye on you. Did you see how disappointed she looked when she knew Joe was taking her home?"
"But, Callie, don't you see? It doesn't matter!" They sank into the car's bucket seats, and Frank leaned over to Callie with a glowing smile. 'This man has eyes for only one ravishing beauty — you!" Callie started to put the key in the steering column, but stopped when Frank brought his face closer and gave her a kiss. At that moment, Tessa Carpenter faded from memory. "I'm sorry, Frank," Callie said. "I guess I'm just upset that our day together had to be spoiled like this."
"I'll make it up to you, Callie, I promise. Next saturday we'll — "
"I was thinking of something sooner than next saturday," Callie said eagerly. "Why don't we see a movie tonight?"
Frank looked at her blankly. "Tonight? Well — I can't." "Why not?"
"Did you forget? We've been invited to a party."
"Party?" Callie had no idea what he meant, when it dawned on her. "You mean at Tessa's?" 'Well, yeah!" Frank said with a shrug. "I uh, we agreed. It might be fun — "
Callie's face clouded over. She started the car and pushed her foot down on the accelerator. Frank fell back in his seat.
"Fine," she said, glaring straight ahead. "You go ahead. I have other plans."
***
"Why so glum, chum? This party's going to be the hottest ticket in town!" Joe called out from the bathroom as he stood in front of the mirror, combing his hair.
Frank yanked on good black socks and stared at the bedroom carpet. "I don't know, Joe, I just am not excited about it." He plopped himself down on the bed and flipped through a copy of Personality magazine that Joe had left lying open.
· "Well, you won't believe her house." Joe leaned into the room and gestured with his comb. "When I drove her home she told me to go up this narrow road through the woods—only it turned out not to be a road, but her driveway! At the end there was this enormous brick mansion — a lawn the size of a football field, servants' cottage, in-ground pool — "
"Hmm. There's a picture of it here in the magazine."
"Right. And that's not even the best part - read the section about the Borgia Dagger," Joe said, walking into the bedroom.
"The what?" Frank flipped through the pages and saw the headline: heiress inherits carpenter collection—including deadly borgia dagger!
"Part of that museum collection," explained Joe, "is a jeweled knife that once belonged to this sinister Italian family about four hundred years ago. They were all religious and military leaders, but they were also cold-blooded murderers! Legend has it that the dagger Tessa has is cursed." " "What kind of curse?" Joe continued in a low, creepy voice. "The fowner of the dagger will die within a few months of having touched it." He opened his eyes and let out a deep, diabolical laugh. "Yaaaa - haaa - haaa - haa — "
Abruptly Joe ducked and just missed being hit by the rolled-up copy of Personality that Frank had hurled at him.
Approaching the mansion in the dark, even Frank was impressed. Four pointed spires rose from the roof like the towers of a castle. A porch, shrubbery and flower beds surrounded it, and a rolling lawn stretched far into woods in all directions. There were no other houses visible. Loud music echoed through the night air and lights glared from four bay windows on the first floor.
They parked the van and walked inside. Immediately Joe felt that his blue suit wasn't right. There seemed to be two types of guests: One type wore expensive tuxedos and evening gowns. The other type wore more casual clothing, but Joe could immediately tell it was just as expensive. Standing among them, a wiry man scribbled notes on a small yellow pad.
"Probably society columnist," Joe whispered to Frank.
"It's Frank and Joe! Come on in!" Tessa's voice floated toward them over the noise of the crowd. From behind a group of laughing people, she emerged.
Frank thought Joe's jaw would drop off. Tessa wore a slinky, full-length gown with silver sequins and high-heeled silver shoes. She grabbed both of their hands and pulled them toward a tall, dimpled guy with dark brown hair. He was about six-foot-one and eighteen years old, same age and height as Frank — only he looked as though he had just stepped out of a movie.
"Frank and Joe Hardy, meet Harley Welles." Harley's teeth were blindingly white as he grinned and said hello. "
Next to Harley was a tiny, white-haired woman who looked about fifty years older than anyone else in the room. Her gray-green eyes twinkled behind thick glasses as Tessa introduced her. "And this," Tessa said, "is my very dearest friend, Dr. Harriet Lansdale. I've known her longer than anyone in the world:"
Dr. Lansdale's shoulder shook as she chuckled. "That's because I delivered her!" she said. "Welcome to Cliffside Heights. I hope the two of iu will come back in the daytime to see the grounds someday. Tessa has lovely gardens."
"Aunt Harriet is semiretired," Tessa said. "She works only part-time now, at the Cliffside Country Club — the rest of the time she spends gardening here and at her own home."
Frank nodded and looked around. They were in a huge parlor, its walls crammed with gold-framed paintings. A towering marble statue of a Greek warrior stretched to the ceiling in a corner between a bookcase and a sideboard.
Just then the doorbell rang. "Harley, be a dear and go into the kitchen for some more cups! Excuse me," Tessa said, and she went to open the door.
"Come and look at the collection," Dr. Lansdale said, leading the way for Frank and Joe to follow. "Personally, I'm trying to convince her to return everything, but we might as well appreciate it while it's here."
: Joe looked longingly at the buffet table that stretched across the middle of the room and ended near the Greek statue. They were moving toward the old sideboard.
Three teenagers dressed in fringed leather jackets were standing around a glass case resting on top of the dark carved-wood piece.
"Excuse me, Muffy," Dr. Lansdale said to one of the girls in the group. They parted as the doctor edged up, pointing to the glass case. Inside it, on a purple satin cushion, was a long knife that reflected the light off its gold-and-jeweled handle.
"Here's the centerpiece of the collection," Dr. Lansdale continued, "the Borgia Dagger that you've probably read about."
"Oh, wow, it is incredible!" Muffy said, lifting up the lid of the case and taking out the dagger.
Suddenly a voice bellowed, "See what I mean? Look at that—they think it's a toy!"
Frank and Joe turned to see Albert Ruppenthal rushing across the room, followed by Tessa. Ruppenthal grabbed the dagger from Muffy and put it back on the satin cushion.
"I really didn't mean to interrupt, Miss Carpenter," Ruppenthal said. "I thought I'd come over, apologize, and quietly try to persuade you to give back the collection — but this is outrageous!" He glanced at the dagger, which was now being examined by several other guests. "Do you realize how much that dagger is worth?"
Tessa smiled sweetly. "Of course I do, Albert!" She picked it up, and a hush fell over the room as, carrying it, she sauntered over to the buffet table.
Timidly, one of the teenagers said, "Tessa, remember the curse on that thing! If the owner touches it, it's curtains!"
Tessa threw back her head in defiant laughter. She turned to Ruppenthal, pointing at him with the dagger. "Albert, you look hungry. Would you like an appetizer?"
Ruppenthal's face went white with shock as Tessa sliced into a wedge of cheese with the Borgia Dagger. She stabbed the tip of the blade into the slice she had cut, then walked back to the sideboard and offered the cheese to the curator with a mocking smile. A split second later the lights went out, and the music cut off in midsong. All the partygoers held their breath in a silence that seemed to last forever.
Then came a crash and a scream — Tessa's scream.
The lights came back on, and Frank and Joe stared at the marble statue—or rather, at its pieces on the floor. Part of the sideboard was splintered, and shards from shattered glassware lay all around.
And crouched under the sideboard, the Borgia dagger still in her hand, was Tessa, her face white with shock.
Frank, Joe, and Dr. Lansdale knelt down beside her. "Did the statue hit you?" Joe asked, his voice edged with concern.
Ruppenthal stood gaping over the statue. "Twenty-three hundred years old ..." he murmured as tears formed in the corners of his eyes.
Tessa was shaking with fright. She looked past Joe and saw Frank. With a choked sob, she let go of the dagger and stood up and threw her arms around him. "Oh, Frank, I was almost killed!"
The crowd started to murmur. Smothered by Tessa's embrace, Frank said, "Well, you seem to be okay. Why don't you just — uh, sit back and relax a little." As Tessa let go, Frank looked around uncomfortably.
"Mind if someone tells me what's going on here?" a voice said from above.
Frank looked up to see Harley towering over him. This time the glittery smile was gone, replaced by tightly pursed lips.
"Looks to me like an accident," Frank replied. "I — I can't figure it out, Harley," Tessa said, "There was a blackout, and someone must have knocked over the Roman statue — "
"Greek!" Ruppenthal cried, now sitting on the floor with his head in his hands.
Harley knelt down and helped Tessa over to a sofa, while Joe quietly picked up the dagger and put it back in the glass case, which was mercifully spared.
Dr. Lansdale, who had disappeared, returned with a dampened towel. She sat next to Tessa and put it on her forehead. All around them, guests from the party gathered.
Holding Tessa's hand, Dr. Lansdale smiled and said, "You know, if I were a superstitious person, I'd think this incident was connected to that silly Borgia curse." She looked at the concerned faces around her and chuckled. "And I see I'm not the only one who's thought of it."
Tessa swallowed nervously. Beads of sweat collected on her brow. "What do you know about the curse, Aunt Harriet?"
"Dear child, I really don't think you ought to worry about it."
"Oh, please," Tessa said. "Maybe if I hear how silly it is, I won't worry."
Dr. Lansdale sighed. "Well, if you insist." She sat back and fell silent, as if trying to remember the details. The guests all gathered closer around her.
"I must say it's a rather gruesome tale. The Borgias were one of the wealthiest and most influential families in Italy around the turn of the sixteenth century—and there were bound to be a few black sheep among them." She nodded slowly. "Well, the history books don't record it, but legend says that the worst one, the one whose name caused people to shake with fear, was Armando Borgia. He was a nephew of the duke, and he had an interesting collection in his basement — a collection of bodies."
Joe noticed a shudder run through Tessa. Dr. Lansdale placed her hand on Tessa's and said, "Oh, honey, you look petrified. I didn't mean for this silly old wives' tale to scare you. I'll stop."
"No, go on!" Tessa pleaded. "Maybe if I hear about it, it won't seem so scary."
Joe could see the tension on Tessa's face. He knew it would only be worse if Dr. Lansdale continued. "Maybe you'd better not," he said into her ear.
"It's all right, Joe," Dr. Lansdale answered. "I understand your concern, but sometimes this is the best treatment for fear." She turned back to Tessa. "Now then, this Armando Borgia was supposedly the cruelest landowner in Italy. He purposely charged rents that were outrageous in order to keep the peasants weak and overworked. They wouldn't be able to rebel then. He married several women, only to cast each wife into the street when he tired of her—including Marisol Allegra — a breathtaking Spanish-Italian beauty by all accounts, of noble blood, young, trusting — "
"Tell me about the dagger, Aunt Harriet," Tessa said, shaking.
"Yes, of course. You see, Arnando rarely left his palace and gardens—but when he did one day, he was shocked to see the streets full of dirty, homeless beggars. Of course, he was the one who had forced them to live like that because they couldn't afford his rents. But to Armando, they were nothing more than human garbage - garbage to be gotten rid of."
"So he killed them?" Tessa asked.
"One by one," Dr. Lansdale said, "he invited the beggars into the palace. He allowed them to wash up and eat until they could hold no more. Most were tearful with gratitude—and then they' were invited to see the wine cellar.
"They never came back up.
"It is said that Armando disposed of each of them with one quick plunge of his jeweled dagger to the victim's heart. The bodies were stacked neatly in the cellar and left there until the end of the week, when they were buried in a single pauper's grave."
Out of the corner of his eye, Frank noticed the society columnist furiously taking notes, "No one caught on," Dr. Lansdale said. "All people noticed was that the streets were becoming free of beggars."
Suddenly Dr. Lansdale's voice became softer. All of the guests leaned closer to hear.
"One night, as Armando was half-asleep, his door was pushed open. Thinking it was a servant, he just grumbled and turned over.
"But it wasn't a servant. One of his victims had been lying in the cellar — the knife had just missed her heart—alive. With her last ounce of strength, she had dragged herself up to Armando's bedroom, and found the blood-stained dagger.
"Well, that's ridiculous," Tessa said. "How could she have known where to go? ..." Tessa cut herself off as she realized the answer.