“You mean Christmas Bells means Noel Carillon?” Mrs. Carillon said. “No wonder I like that horse.”
Tony knew that it was more than a coincidence. “Mr. Kunkel, I’ve just got to talk to you—alone. Please.”
“I have to talk to you, too, Mr. Kunkel,” Tina said. “In private. It’s terribly important.”
Mrs. Baker emerged from the kitchen. “If you two talked to each other for a change, instead of always arguing, you wouldn’t be bothered with so many secrets. Besides, dinner’s ready.”
Mrs. Carillon talked of horses; Augie Kunkel described in detail how his Aunt Martha was fighting a losing battle with termites and dry rot; and the twins sulked. The evening was almost over.
“B-b-but the garden is lovely now; abloom with white clematis (C. paniculata), autumn crocus (Colchicum), and fleece-vine (Polygonum auberti).”
Mrs. Carillon stifled a yawn. Augie Kunkel rose, invited them to dinner on Saturday, and bid them good-night.
9* The Mystery Is Solved
Part One of the Glub-blubs
Saturday was too far off. The twins decided they had to see Mr. Kunkel early the next morning (or, as Tina put it, they would die of hypertension). That meant skipping school, but Tina thought of a good excuse. It was Rosh Hashanah. “After all, we are orphans,” she said, “so we could be Jewish as far as anyone knows.”
Although they walked together across the park, the twins still had not told one another about their discoveries. “That would be going too far,” thought Tony.
Augie Kunkel had never invited Mrs. Carillon or the twins to his apartment. He wasn’t especially ashamed of his fourth-floor walk-up with its shabby furniture; there was just no place to sit. Books were everywhere: on the chairs, on his desk, on the floor, on the sink.
Tony, knowing his friend would be flustered by their unexpected arrival, had written down his discovery in order to save time and embarrassment. He handed the note to Mr. Kunkel before he was able to stammer out a greeting.
Augie Kunkel was even more bewildered after reading Tony’s message. He sat down on the one empty chair and read aloud:
Noel C ___ all = Noel is Seymour Hall.
“Who is Seymour Hall?” he asked.
“Seymour Hall is the name of the jockey who owns Christmas Bells. Noel Carillon and Seymour Hall are one and the same person. That’s why Mrs. Carillon is so taken with him; somewhere, down deep, she recognizes the little boy she married.”
Tony expected Tina to object; surprisingly enough, she didn’t.
It was Augie Kunkel who was being difficult.
“What you say, Tony, is quite ingenious; but let’s go over the facts:
1. The syllables fit perfectly.
2. Mrs. Carillon does seem unusually obsessed with the jockey Seymour Hall and his horse.
3. Christmas Bells does mean Noel Carillon.
“But does it really make sense? Can we answer these questions:
1. Why did Noel Carillon change his name again?
2. Why did he choose the name Seymour Hall?
3. If Noel Carillon is Seymour Hall, who was the man in the boat?”
“I can answer the second question,” Tony said. “Noel Carillon chose the name Seymour Hall because that was the name of his school. It was on the envelopes of all the anniversary cards.”
“And I can answer the third question,” Tina said. “I know who the man in the boat was!”
Part Two of the Glub-blubs
Tina wrote her solution under Tony’s.
I ___ new. . . . = I am Newton Pinckney.
“Who is Newton Pinckney?” Mr. Kunkel asked.
“Newton Pinckney is a tall, thin, handsome actor about forty-some years old. When Mrs. Carillon saw him on television, she screamed and fainted. It was such a shock that she blotted it out of her mind completely. My guess is that Newton Pinckney was Noel Carillon’s friend, the one he called ‘Pinky.’ He was the man in the boat.”
“Hmmm,” pondered Augie Kunkel. “Noel is Seymour Hall; I am Newton Pinckney. But why? Why did Noel change his name?”
“To avoid Mrs. Carillon,” said Tony.
“Why did Newton Pinckney confess?”
“Because he thought he was drowning,” said Tina.
“But why, why? Why all the pretense and false identities? How long was it supposed to last?”
“Maybe Newton Pinckney was supposed to kill Mrs. Carillon, so he and Noel could split the inheritance,” suggested Tony.
“That’s impossible,” Tina shouted; but she wasn’t too sure. Jordan’s father did play a convincing crook.
“Not intentional murder, oh no, I can’t believe that,” Augie Kunkel said. “After all, Noel had a fortune of his own which he has never laid claim to. But I do admit there is something very strange here. I suggest we verify a few facts before we tell Mrs. Carillon.”
“Tell Mrs. Carillon?” gasped Tony. “Do we have to tell her? I don’t want a jockey for a father.”
“When the time comes we will have to tell her the truth,” Augie Kunkel said, sadly.
The Verifiers
They called themselves The Verifiers.
Motto: Find the facts.
Meetings: Every other Thursday afternoon, after school.
Place: Mr. Kunkel’s apartment.
Agenda: Present evidence.
Discuss strategy.
Chocolate cake and milk.
Tony liked the cake and milk idea; but he wasn’t so sure he wanted to find the facts. Tina argued that once Mrs. Carillon learned the truth she would divorce Noel and marry Mr. Kunkel.34 That was enough to convince Tony to cull old sports magazines and newspaper files for facts about Seymour Hall. He read his report at the second meeting of The Verifiers.
Seymour Hall is known as the “Mystery Rider” because nothing is known about his early life. He won his first race as an apprentice jockey in Florida twenty-one-years ago. He was one of the best jockeys in the country and retired, a rich man, five years ago. A few years later he bought a horse and named it Christmas Bells. Nobody could get that horse to run, except Seymour Hall; so he became a jockey again. He and Christmas Bells have never lost a race.
Seymour Hall never married, but there are many pictures of him with beautiful women—all blondes.
“Well, we can at least tell Mrs. Carillon to stop having her hair dyed black,” Tina said. Her only fact for the day was that Newton Pinckney had a scar on his right elbow.
Augie Kunkel reported on his visit to the Seymour Hall Boarding School for Boys. Newton Pinckney had, indeed, been a classmate of Leon Carillon. He showed the graduation picture of Leon (Noel) Carillon to Tony.
“That’s him. That’s Seymour Hall.”
He showed the picture of Newton (Pinky) Pinckney to Tina, who nodded her approval; although she thought it looked more like Jordan than his father.
The vote to verify: Noel is Seymour Hall; I am Newton Pinckney was unanimous.
“Do we have to tell Mrs. Carillon now?” Tony asked.
“Not yet,” Mr. Kunkel replied. “Not until we know ‘why?’ ”
The Investigators
The Verifiers changed their name to The Investigators.
Motto: Why?
Meetings: Same time, same place.
Agenda: Present evidence.
Discuss strategy.
Angel Food cake35 and milk.
Augie Kunkel urged the utmost caution in their investigations. After all, they didn’t want to frighten Newton Pinckney or Seymour Hall with criminal accusations.
“Maybe just a pleasant letter would do,” he suggested.
“Actors never read their mail,” Tina said. “I’ll have to see Newton Pinckney in person.”
“That may be a good idea,” Mr. Kunkel replied, “but jockeys read their mail; I’m sure they do.”
A LETTER TO SEYMOUR HALL
Dear Mr. Hall:
Please do not panic, but read this letter to the end. I mean you no harm and promise not to
reveal your secret to the public.
You probably don’t remember me after all these years, but we played together as children. I am the chubby boy who lived up the road—Augie Kunkel. My father was factory foreman.
I am in possession of incontrovertible evidence that you are Leon (Noel) Carillon, the husband of my dear friend Mrs. Carillon, who has not, as yet, been informed of your identity. She has kept a faithful vigil for you these many years, and deserves an explanation regarding your desertion.
If you do not plan to resume your role as husband to this good woman, some suitable action should be taken (agreeable to both parties) that will allow her to pursue a life of her own.
Please write to me, not to Mrs. Carillon, so I may present her with the truth as gently as possible.
Your friend,
Augie Kunkel
ANOTHER LETTER TO SEYMOUR HALL
Dear Mr. Hall:
You don’t know me, but I know all about you. You are not the Mystery Rider called Seymour Hall. You are my father Noel Carillon, and I am your adopted son Tony.
I know you don’t want a son; and I want Mr. Kunkel to be my father. So please divorce Mrs. Carillon. Mr. Banks will give you half of the Pomato Soup money.
Yours truly,
Tony Carillon
P.S. You also have an adopted daughter Tina, who is miserable.
Tina tried everything short of blackmail to persuade Jordan Pinckney to arrange a private interview for her with his father.
“If everyone who wanted to see my father in person saw my father in person, he wouldn’t have any time left to act.”
Two weeks passed.
No one had any “Why’s” to report at the next meeting of The Investigators. Tony suggested changing their motto to “Wait,” but Mr. Kunkel thought “Persevere” was a better word.
Tina persevered. One week later, after convincing him that it was a matter of life and death and promising to do his math homework for a month, Jordan Pinckney handed Tina’s note to his father.
Dear Pinky:
“NOEL IS SEYMOUR HALL; I AM NEWTON PINCKNEY.” I can’t say anymore because I know your son will read this. If this message interests you, I am waiting outside your front door ready to talk.
Tina Carillon
Tina didn’t have long to wait. A look of utter astonishment masked Jordan’s face when he opened the door.
“My father wants to see you.”
Does She Know?
Everything happened at once. Augie Kunkel and Tony received replies from Seymour Hall the same afternoon that Tina talked to Newton Pinckney.
Tony was reading the jockey’s letter for the tenth time when he heard the familiar scream. He ran into the living room, straight into Mrs. Baker who spilled a glass of water on Mr. Banks who was fanning Mrs. Carillon with a newspaper. Mrs. Carillon was slumped across the couch in a dead faint.
“What happened?” Tina asked as she hurried over to Mrs. Carillon and began massaging her wrists. “Does she know?”
“No,” said Tony, picking himself up off the floor.
“Yes,” said Mr. Banks, drying his face.
Mrs. Baker ran from the kitchen with more water and bumped into Augie Kunkel, who had just come in the open door.
“What happened?” Mr. Kunkel asked as he rushed over to the prone Mrs. Carillon, water dripping down his cheeks. “Does she know?”
“No,” said Tony.
“Yes,” said Mr. Banks.
“Somebody get some water,” Tina shouted.
Just then Mrs. Carillon opened her eyes. The sight of Augie Kunkel and Mr. Banks with handkerchiefs to their faces brought back the bad news. She sat up slowly and turned to the twins. “He’s dead,” she said softly.
Tina and Mr. Kunkel were confused; only Tony understood. He broke into loud sobs and threw himself into the arms of Mrs. Carillon. They cried together.
“Who’s d-d-dead?” whispered Augie Kunkel.
“No one we know,” answered Mr. Banks and read aloud from the wet newspaper.
JOCKEY KILLED IN SPILL; HORSE O.K.
Seymour Hall, owner-jockey of Triple Crown winner Christmas Bells, was killed instantly in a freak accident during prerace warm-ups at Aqueduct today. The exact cause of the fatal fall from his horse is still unknown, but eyewitness accounts agree that the jockey, not the horse, became unusually distressed when the band struck up a tune.36 It appeared that Seymour Hall threw his hands up to his ears to block out the sound of the music. The sudden jerk on the reins. . .
“Does anybody around here want dinner?” asked Mrs. Baker.
“Good idea,” replied Mr. Banks, folding the newspaper. “That should cheer us all up. It’s too bad about that jockey; but, after all, he wasn’t a member of the family.”
“Yes, he was!” cried Tony.
Time for the Truth
“Let me t-t-tell you about Seymour Hall,” Augie Kunkel said to the bewildered Mrs. Carillon.
“What about dinner?” complained Mr. Banks.
“Dinner can wait!” Augie Kunkel surprised everyone with his new-found authority. He stood in the middle of the room waiting for quiet.
“The death of the jockey, Seymour Hall, is a tragic loss to all of us,” he began. He spoke slowly, deliberating over each word in an effort to control his stammer.
“Seymour Hall was a good man. He had much success in his lifetime, and much sadness.”
Mrs. Carillon was kneading a tightly balled handkerchief in her hands. Augie Kunkel wasn’t sure she was listening. “This most tragic accident, Mrs. Carillon, comes at a time. . .”
“If you have something to say, get on with it,” Mr. Banks said. He was comfortably seated in a wing chair, munching on the Camembert cheese and crackers Mrs. Baker had set beside him.
Tony glowered at Mr. Banks, but Augie Kunkel knew he was right. He drew a chair up to the couch and sat down facing Mrs. Carillon.
“Mrs. Carillon, I have a letter for you that arrived only this morning. It will explain everything.”
Mrs. Carillon took the letter in her trembling hand and looked around her, at inquisitive Tina leaning against Augie Kunkel’s chair, at sad Tony slumped down next to her, at Mr. Banks munching and crunching away.
“Tina, would you read this aloud, please?”
Tina took the letter and cleared her throat.
Dear Mrs. Carillon:
I have never been good with words; but I will try to explain things. I hope that some day you will be able to forgive me.
“Who’s the letter from?” Mrs. Carillon asked anxiously. “Quick, Tina, look at the bottom. Is it from Leon?”
“It’s signed: Noel (Seymour Hall).”
“What?” shouted Mr. Banks, nearly choking on a cracker. “Go on, Tina,” Augie Kunkel said.
You see, I didn’t know you were waiting for me all these years. I thought Pinky had told you that I had gone away and not to look for me when you saw him on the dock in Palm Beach.
“That was Pinky in the boat,” mumbled Mrs. Carillon. She shook her head over the folly of her long search.
Please believe me, I was not running away from you. I was running away from the soup business and all it stood for.
“That’s what’s wrong with this younger generation,” Mr. Banks complained. “No sense of responsibility.”
I changed my name and began a new life as a jockey. I wanted to tell you all this myself, but at the last minute I lost my nerve and asked my friend Pinky to explain. I guess I was worried that you might make me change my mind.
I almost did change my mind when you hugged me on the dock ...
“I remember now. No wonder Seymour Hall looked so familiar,” Mrs. Carillon said with a wan smile. “I ran up to Leon and hugged him—then some pretty blonde woman dragged him away.”
...but Alice or Doris or someone dragged me away. I left on the next plane and never saw Pinky again. Many times I’ve wished that I had talked to you, but I won’t complain. I’ve had a good career and have b
een happy with horses.
If Mr. Banks is still around . . .
“What does he mean, if I’m still around?”
...tell him to give you my share of the soup money.
Love,
Noel (Seymour Hall)
P.S. You are lucky to have a good friend like Augie.
Everyone, including Dr. Stein, whom Mrs. Baker had called (just in case), was waiting for Mrs. Carillon to jump up and scream, or faint; but she just sat there, her purple flowers fading into the purple-flowered couch.
More of the Truth
“I have another letter to read.” All heads turned from Mrs. Carillon back to Tina. “It’s from Pinky.”
My dear Mrs. Carillon:
Your lovely daughter Tina. . .
“I don’t believe it,” said Tony. “Show me the letter.”
“Newton Pinckney is that actor we saw on television, Mrs. Carillon,” Tina explained while Tony examined the handwriting to make sure it wasn’t his sister’s.
Tina began again.
Your lovely daughter Tina has just told me how badly I bungled my role in our little drama. It never occurred to me that you didn’t hear all the words of what I thought was my dying confession: “Noel is Seymour Hall; I am Newton Pinckney.”