Password to Larkspur Lane (2 page)

The dusty leaves of some sprawling bushes lay across the top of the automobile and hung down over the windshield and other windows. It was impossible to see inside.

“That’s really an old-timer,” Nancy thought, and wondered if anyone were in it.

After she had passed the car, her eyes shifted to the rear-view mirror. Slowing up, she studied the license plate, which was so mud-splattered that only four digits showed: 2-21-1.

Nancy’s interest quickened at once. These were the first four numbers on the pigeon’s leg band! Was there a connection?

She gave the license plate another fleeting glance and noted by the color that it was from out of state, but she could not see the identifying initials.

A moment later an oncoming car passed her. The driver raised a hand and called, “Hello, Nancy!”

“Dr. Spire!” she exclaimed.

The famous bone specialist, a friend of the Drew family, was often called out on local emergencies. Glancing back again, Nancy was surprised to see Dr. Spire pull up in back of the old sedan.

Wondering if she could be of help, Nancy stopped at the side of the road and watched as the physician walked toward the parked car carrying his black bag. As he reached the sedan, a rear door swung open. Dr. Spire put one foot inside and leaned forward. With a sudden movement he vanished into the car and it roared away.

“That was strange!” Nancy said aloud. “It seemed as if someone jerked him into the back seat. He may have been kidnapped!”

On a hunch, Nancy backed her convertible to the physician’s car, then braked and leaped out. Dr. Spire had locked his car and the keys were gone.

“I guess he expected to be met,” Nancy told herself. “He probably jumped into the old sedan. But the whole thing is peculiar.”

When Nancy reached home, Mrs. Gruen opened the front door. “It’s here. Came a few minutes ago.” She handed over a telegram.

Nancy tore open the envelope. The wire was from the Pigeon Fanciers association. It read:

“ANOTHER strange message!” remarked Hannah Gruen. “What do you think now, Nancy?”

“That a real mystery has dropped into my lap.” Nancy grinned. “And about time! I’ve been longing for one ever since I solved
The Sign of the Twisted Candles.
I can’t wait to tell Dad about this!”

Carson Drew had always been close to his daughter, and often discussed his cases with her, because she grasped the issues so clearly and quickly.

Nancy reread the telegram and said to Mrs. Gruen, “The pigeon isn’t registered. That’s so its messages can’t be traced to the sender.”

Hannah replied, “Well, it takes all kinds of folks to make a world. What’s more, pigeons, planes and telegrams aren’t getting tonight’s dinner ready. We’re having hot biscuits and chicken, one of your father’s favorites.”

“And mine,” said Nancy.

“Mr. Drew likes sweet pickles too,” Hannah added. “I’ll go down to the cellar and get a jar.”

Nancy’s thoughts returned to the odd message which had been attached to the pigeon’s leg. She took the note from her pocket and studied it again. The words were neatly printed in black ink.

For safekeeping, Nancy slipped the note and the telegram into her purse, and set it on the hall table. At that moment she heard a thumping noise and a cry from the cellar.

“Hannah!” she called. There was no answer.

Nancy dashed to the kitchen and looked down the cellar stairs. A huddled figure lay on the floor.

“Oh!” Nancy exclaimed and ran down the steps.

The housekeeper managed to sit up. “I slipped,” she said shakily. “Oh, my back!”

“Hannah!” Nancy exclaimed anxiously. “Are you badly hurt?”

“No,” the housekeeper replied. “I can get up, I’m sure. Just give me a hand.”

Nancy put one arm around Hannah and helped the woman to her feet. Mrs. Gruen stood still a few moments to catch her breath, then said:

“I guess I didn’t break anything, thank goodness. But I’m afraid I’ve strained my back.”

“I’ll drive you to Dr. Spire’s,” Nancy said, “and let him examine you.” With the girl’s help, the housekeeper slowly climbed the stairs.

“I have to get dinner,” Hannah announced.

“That can wait,” Nancy said firmly. “We’ll leave a note telling Dad where we’ve gone.”

As they drove toward the doctor’s residence and office, Nancy hoped that he was back from his mysterious call. When they reached the house, Mrs. Spire told them her husband was out.

“Is he still on that case out near the Blenheim estate?” Nancy asked. “I passed him on my way home from the flower show.”

“Yes, he is, but he should be home soon.” She and Nancy helped Hannah to a couch in the office. Then Mrs. Spire excused herself to get dinner, and asked Nancy to answer the office phone if it should ring. Twenty minutes later it buzzed.

Nancy lifted the receiver, but before she could say “Hello,” a muffled voice asked if Dr. Spire had returned. When Nancy said No, the caller directed her to write down a message.

As she wrote, a strange expression crossed her face. At the end of the message, the speaker abruptly hung up.

“Can I believe my eyes?” Nancy wondered as she looked at the message she had jotted down.

“Blue bells again!” Nancy told herself. Was Dr. Spire somehow involved in the mystery of the message attached to the pigeon’s leg? Could it be more than coincidence that the numbers on the license plate of the black sedan matched the first four digits on the bird’s leg band? Her suspicion that the doctor had been pulled forcibly into the sedan came flooding back.

Nancy was about to tell Hannah what the anonymous caller had said, when brisk footsteps were heard outside the door. Dr. Spire, a lanky, balding man, strode into the office. Although he looked worried, his thin, intense face lighted with a smile.

“Well, Nancy, we meet again!”

Hiding her surprise and relief at seeing him safe, Nancy replied with a cheerful greeting.

The physician turned to Hannah. “Mrs. Gruen, my wife has told me of your accident. I’m sorry to hear about it. I’ll take a look at you now.”

Fifteen minutes later the doctor announced that she had a sprained back. “Rest in bed a few days. I’ll write a prescription for you. In ten days you’ll be feeling like your old self.”

“I’ll see that she rests,” Nancy promised.

She helped Hannah to the car and settled her comfortably in the front seat. Then she excused herself and hurried back inside. The doctor was seated at his desk, gazing into space. He looked at Nancy inquiringly.

“I jotted down this phone message for you,” she said. “It is important that I ask you something about it.”

The doctor’s lips tightened as he read the message.

“Does it make sense to you?” Nancy asked.

“Yes,” he said grimly.

Dr. Spire stood up and strode across the room. Then he turned and faced Nancy. “I need help in solving a strange mystery. There’s nobody with whom I’d rather discuss it than you and your father. Will you help me?”

“Of course,” Nancy replied.

“Then will you both come back later?”

Nancy agreed. “I’m eager to hear your story. I think the mystery may be linked to one I’m working on.”

The doctor looked amazed, but before he could ask what she meant, Mrs. Spire came to tell him that dinner was ready. Nancy quickly excused herself.

When she and Hannah reached home, Carson Drew, a tall, distinguished-looking man, was eagerly waiting for them. He was sorry to hear what had happened to the housekeeper and helped her upstairs. After Mrs. Gruen was settled in bed, Nancy brought her a tray of food, then prepared dinner for her father and herself.

While they ate, Nancy told him about the strange occurrences. Mr. Drew shook his head and chuckled. “You attract mystery like nectar in a flower attracts a bee, Nancy.”

She grinned. “In this case, I’ll be the blossom and hope the villain will come my way!”

“I’ll go with you tonight,” he agreed, “and I’ll do anything I can to help.”

With a twinkle in her eyes Nancy said, “Then you can start clearing the table. I’ll scrape the dishes and put them in the washer.”

Carson Drew laughed. “You caught me that time, young lady!”

But he was Nancy’s willing helper and it did not take the father-daughter team long to tidy the kitchen. Then they set off for Dr. Spire’s office. He greeted them cordially and indicated deep leather armchairs.

Mr. Drew said quietly, “Suppose you tell us what’s worrying you, Richard.”

“It’s a strange story,” the physician said. “I almost can’t believe it myself. This afternoon I had a phone call saying that a patient of mine, Mrs. Manning Smith, had been in a minor car accident on Hollow Hill Road. She wanted me to meet her there and if necessary take her to the hospital.

“The caller—a man—told me to look for an old black sedan. Since I know Mrs. Smith has one, I thought nothing of it. After passing you on the road, Nancy, I spotted the car, parked, and went up to it. The back door swung open. As I leaned forward to look inside, my shoulders were seized and I was yanked to the floor. Before I could move, a hood was dropped over my head and a man on each side held me firmly.”

“How far did you ride?” Nancy asked.

“A long time—about an hour. Not a word was spoken during the trip.”

“Where did they take you?” Mr. Drew asked.

“I don’t know. But some of the roads were bumpy. I think we were out in the country. When the hood was finally removed I found myself in what appeared to be a regular hospital room.”

“Was there a patient?” Nancy asked eagerly.

“Yes, but not Mrs. Smith. Someone explained a clerk had made a mistake. I didn’t learn the patient’s name. She was an elderly woman, suffering from a dislocated shoulder. There was just one other person in the room—a nurse. She was a large, hard-faced woman and warned me not to talk to the patient.”

“Did you try?” Mr. Drew queried.

“No, but all the time I was working, it seemed as if she wanted to tell me something. Her eyes kept flashing signals which I could not understand. Then, while I was taking her pulse, the nurse turned for a moment and the woman slipped this into my hand.”

Dr. Spire reached into his pocket and held out a thin, gold-chain bracelet with a small gold shield dangling from it.

“How dainty!” Nancy exclaimed as she took the bracelet to examine it. Set into the bangle was a garnet.

“There’s an inscription over the jewel,” she said. “ ‘To my darling Mary from Joe.’ ” Nancy turned the shield over. “On the other side is a coat of arms. Perhaps we could trace it and find out the woman’s name. If she’s being held against her will, we ought to rescue her!”

“It’s worth a try,” her father agreed.

“Keep the bracelet, Nancy,” the doctor said, “and see what you can learn about it.” Then he continued his story. “When I finished, two men came in and replaced the hood. Then I was driven back to my car. A couple of times when I tried to resist, they got rough.”

“How dreadful!” Nancy burst out. “Dr. Spire, do you think the woman was able to talk, but had been ordered not to?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Did you see or hear anything that would help us find the place?”

Dr. Spire smiled. “I learned the password to the place.”

“Marvelous!” said Nancy. “What was it?”

He replied, “As we turned into a driveway—I could tell by the creak of gates—the driver said ‘Bluebells’ and someone answered ‘Pass.’ ”

Nancy’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “This is where my story comes in, Dr. Spire.” Quickly she told him about the pigeon, the plane, and the telegram. “Whoever is holding the woman prisoner must have been afraid you had heard the password. So he decided to change it.”

“Yes, that would have been just about five o’clock, as the pigeon message said,” the physician agreed. “The phone call here was to warn me not to try finding the place again or using the password to get in if I did.”

Carson Drew spoke up. “Richard, you must report this to the police.”

Just then the telephone rang. When the physician finished the call, he said, “Emergency at the hospital. I’ll have to go. Carson, will you and Nancy report the incident to the police for me?”

“We’ll stop at headquarters,” the lawyer replied.

As the Drews left the house, Nancy noticed a shadowy figure across the street. “Are we being watched?” the young sleuth wondered.

While driving downtown Nancy noted a pair of headlights reflected in her mirror. One was dimmer than the other. The uneven lights stayed close behind all the way to police headquarters. Nancy slowed down in front of the building, and the car, a sleek black sedan, went past.

“No place to park here, Dad,” she said. “Suppose you hop out and start telling your story. I’ll join you as soon as I find a parking space.”

Mr. Drew got out, and a few minutes later Nancy pulled into the far side of a parking lot at the corner. When she stepped out of the car, a hulking figure emerged from the nearby shadows.

A feeling of apprehension swept over Nancy, and she tried to dart past the man. But a powerful hand seized her arm and jerked her back.

“Not so fast!” the stranger growled in a deep voice.

“LET me go or I’ll scream!” Nancy cried out.

Instantly the man released her arm, but he swiftly stepped in front of her. “Wait a minute,” he commanded. “You want to help your father, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nancy said warily. She studied the husky, broad-shouldered man. He had heavy brows, deep-set eyes, and a cruel mouth.