The Vampire on the Balcony

By Hy Conrad

The witch and the young Sherlock Holmes had just left their car in a parking lot and were making their way along Center Street toward the Detective Division’s annual Halloween party.

“What if there’s a homicide tonight?” Jonah asked with a chuckle. “Are the detectives all going to show up in costume?”

Carol whacked her son playfully with her broomstick. “That’s right. Napoleon and Frankenstein will be on the case. And Sherlock Holmes, of course.”

It was October 31, and a festive assortment of ghouls and ghosts strolled up and down the street. Adding to the spirit were the decorations—paper skeletons stapled to doors, comical tombstones. Jonah and his mother took a shortcut down a side alley on their way to the party. Jonah saw that someone on the third floor had placed a Dracula dummy in a chair on a balcony, with a stake through its heart.

“Mom,” Jonah said, tugging on her sleeve. His face was suddenly ashen. “That’s not a stake—it’s a corkscrew. And that’s not a dummy. It’s a real man.”

As they looked on, the door opened and a zombie and a gypsy woman stepped out onto the balcony. The gypsy woman smiled and touched the corpse on the shoulder, then took a closer look at the corkscrew. Her scream was piercing.

“Looks like we’ll have to skip our own party,” Detective Bixby told her son. “I don’t even have time to take you home.”

“That’s okay,” said Jonah, trying to act as though he didn’t care. The only thing better than a Halloween party, in his mind, was a Halloween party with a real crime to solve.

His mother brought him up to the third-floor apartment, and they walked in on twenty costumed guests, all looking shocked and ready to leave. When the other officers arrived, Carol instructed them to take statements.

During all of this, Jonah was pretty much ignored. He glanced around at the new furniture, then wandered into the kitchen and saw the spanking-new appliances and cookware, one of everything. “This is what they call a corporate apartment,” his mother explained as she passed by. “All very basic.”

The victim was a businessman from New York, Thad Jericho, who used the apartment about once a week. He had been hosting this Halloween party for his local employees when one of them must have joined him on the balcony and stabbed him to death.

The zombie they’d seen on the balcony approached Detective Bixby. “I’m Kendall Brown, office manager,” he said, wiping a dribble of fake blood from his mouth.

Carol Bixby nodded. “From the statements we’ve been getting, it seems Mr. Jericho wasn’t very popular.”

The zombie shrugged. “He made a lot of unpopular decisions. And to make it worse, Thad was a bit of a jerk…”

“A big jerk,” said a newcomer. It was the gypsy woman, otherwise known as Gina Morrissey, personnel director.

“Did anyone see Mr. Jericho go out on the balcony?” Carol asked.

“No,” said Kendall. “No one remembers seeing him for at least half an hour before the body was discovered.”

“Actually, I think I discovered the body,” said a cowboy who had just joined them. His name was Herbert Horner, senior accountant. “I got here rather late.”

“Right,” Gina agreed. “We didn’t think you were coming. I was just uncorking the last bottle of wine when you walked in.”

“That’s not my point,” said Herbert. “My point is I took a shortcut through the alley. I saw Thad up on the balcony, already dead. I thought it was just a decoration.”

“Did you see anything else?” Carol asked.

“No,” said Herbert. “I just came up and joined the party. About ten minutes later, Gina and Kendall found him out there.”

“Mom,” Jonah whispered. “I need to talk to you.”

For the first time, the guests noticed that there was a twelve-year-old among them dressed as Sherlock Holmes. Gina cracked a smug smile. “Looks like we have our own little detective here. Maybe you can tell us who killed him.”

Jonah looked up to his mother. “Can I, Mom?”

“Go ahead,” Carol said and saw the gypsy’s smile fade.



Jonah led his mother and the three costumed suspects into the kitchen. He opened the drawers one by one and rummaged around. “What are you looking for, Sherlock?” asked the zombie.

“A corkscrew,” Jonah answered.

“It’s in the victim, honey,” said his mother, a little embarrassed.

“I know that,” said Jonah. “I was looking for another one.”

“There isn’t another one,” said the gypsy. This is a corporate apartment. They furnished it with a bare minimum of essentials.”

“Then we have a problem,” replied Jonah. “Because at the same time you were opening a bottle of wine, Mr. Horner says he saw the corkscrew in Mr. Jericho’s’ chest.”

The gypsy thought. “He’s right. How could that be?”

“It couldn’t,” said Carol. “Mr. Horner, you lied about seeing the body on the balcony. Why?”

Horner didn’t answer, but Jonah did. “To make us think that Mr. Jericho was dead before he arrived. He was trying to give himself an alibi. Mr. Horne is the killer.”