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Murder Fit for a King
Murder Fit for a King
A Dani and Caitlin Mystery
Larry McCloskey
For Mar Mar.
And to the Irish families who once lived and farmed in the meadow at the top of McCloskey Road in Gatineau Park until about 1875. High along that rocky, inhospitable ridge of deep forest, as recounted by C.E. Mortureaux in “History of George’s Trail” published in the 1923—24 Canadian Ski Annual , “once lived and toiled a little colony of Irish settlers — the Dunlops, Laheys, Keogans, Egans, Jeffs, McGuires, and McCloskeys. How they came to settle on this stony land, no one knows. Probably they were planted here on some dark night and stayed because they did not know that the rest of the world had anything better to offer. One day, as the story goes, they heard from some visitor about the level, flat land in the valley below, and straightaway they packed their household goods and climbed down, never to return, some by McCloskey’s Hill and some by Murphy’s.”
1
A Ghostly Tour
“I’m mad,” Dani said, wrinkling her forehead like a distressed beagle.
Dani’s beagle, Nikki, howled at a passing squirrel before placing his wrinkled forehead between his paws on his master’s foot.
Caitlin watched the pair and thought, They say that if a couple stays together long enough, they begin to look alike. Poor Dani.
“I’m mad!” Dani repeated, this time with a little more volume and a lot more wrinkles.
“Dani, you can’t stay mad at your dad forever. Besides, maybe you’ll get to like a cottage closer to Ottawa. Three hours was an awful long time driving to your old cottage.”
Dani folded her arms as if hugging herself. “I don’t care if another dumb cottage is closer. I want my cottage back.”
“But, Dani, it’s kind of true what your dad said about us asking ‘Are we there yet?’ every few minutes. Besides, there might be a whole bunch of fun cottages up in the Gatineau Hills like your dad says.”
“I don’t care, and I’m still mad. I’m not going to look at dumb old cottages. I still can’t believe Dad sold our cottage. We’ve had it ever since I was a baby. We went there every year for my birthday and for summer holidays and for Thanksgiving.” Dani unfolded her arms and dropped them to her sides, sighing grandly.
“The cottages in the pictures looked pretty cool,” Caitlin said.
“I don’t care!”
Caitlin could see the gelato Dani’s dad, John, had promised for cottage-hunting company melting away. This will have to be handled very carefully, she thought. “Dani, if we go look at cottages, we can build a great big pile of leaves and jump in it.”
“I don’t care about dumb leaves!”
“Dani, we could let Nikki run loose. You know how much he loves that.”
“Nikki doesn’t care, either.”
Caitlin spit out one of her blond braids and thought, Time to get serious. “We could go and you could stay mad at your dad and he’ll see how rotten every cottage is and maybe he’ll buy back your old cottage.”
Dani pulled on Nikki’s leash and started striding away from her friend.
“Hey, Dani, where are you going?” “Come on, Caitlin, let’s go look at those rotten cottages.”
“Ghost tour?” Dani asked through smacking gum.
“That’s right.” John glanced at the girls in the rearview mirror. “Our tenth prime minister, William Lyon Mackenzie King, used to spend his summers here in the glorious Gatineau Hills at his estate on Kingsmere Lake. Get it — King at Kingsmere? Anyway, turns out our holder of highest office was a bit of a kook. It seems he spent a fair bit of time chatting with his dead mom.” John checked the rearview mirror to see if the girls were suitably impressed.“Dad, the road, you know,” Dani said between gum smackings.
“And don’t forget, Mackenzie King was our prime minister during our time of greatest crisis,” John continued. “Canada was at war with Germany and Japan, a war we very nearly lost, and during it all, Mackenzie King was probably conversing with his maternal ghost for advice about war and how to run the country. Now that’s a spooky piece of history!”
“Dad, are you serious about a ghost tour?” Dani asked. “I thought we were looking at dumb cottages.”
“We can look at cottages after the tour, which starts in exactly three minutes. And what better time for a ghost tour than two weeks before Halloween.” John pulled the van into a parking lot. “Look, there’s a group gathering over there. I’ll run over and see if they’re here for the ghost tour.”
The girls watched as John ran to the group, then dashed back.
Louise, Dani’s stepmother, chewed on her sunglasses and mumbled, “I think we’d better get Nikki to teach John how to relax.”
“Girls, Louise, come on, the ghost tour’s starting. Oh, Dani, better bring Nikki’s leash. He might bolt if he gets spooked.”
John giggled at his own joke as he frantically searched the van for his sunglasses, his hat, and other paraphernalia. Louise, the girls, and Nikki reluctantly joined the back of the group.
“This is going to be boring,” Dani said, folding her arms.
“This is going to be interesting,” John said, catching up and rubbing his hands together. “Come on, Louise, let’s move up closer to the front.”
“Oh, joy,” Louise muttered, her words lost in the October wind.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the National Capital Commission’s Ghost Tour,” an enthusiastic voice boomed, hidden to the girls somewhere on the front lines. “We’re pleased to present to you today a fascinating glimpse into Canadian history here at the beautiful Mackenzie King Estate, or as most people call it, Kingsmere.”
The tour group spread around the voice until the girls caught sight of a middle-aged man in matching tan shirt, vest, hat, and neatly creased pants. “For it is here that our esteemed prime minister thought about the weighty affairs of Canada and consorted with and was advised by his long-dead mother. In short, ladies and gentlemen, the leader of our country, and Canada’s longest-serving prime minister, may have taken counsel from a ghost, or perhaps a series of ghosts, and as such was just plain nuts!” Members of the tour group snickered as the tan man prattled on. “But seriously, folks...”
“Dumb ghost tour,” Dani said to Caitlin, tuning out.
“Ha-ha, very smart,” John said to no one in particular at the front of the group.
“And finally, to complete today’s tour, we’ll end up at the Moorside
