The Haunted Carousel (10 page)

The horse stood near a big, mullioned window in what once had evidently been the mansion’s game room. With its raised, prancing foreleg, arched neck, and flying mane, the

carousel steed looked incredibly lifelike. Its flaring pink nostrils, fiery eyes, and glossy, dapple-gray coat all added to the vivid impression, and its feathered bridle and gilded trappings seemed to make it a truly royal charger.

“Oh, how beautiful!” Nancy murmured softly, gazing at the horse in wide-eyed admiration.

“Now you can see why I fell in love with him when I was a little girl!” said Joy, obviously pleased by her reaction. “Would you like to ride him?”

Nancy giggled. “Is anyone watching?” “What’s the diff? Go on!”

Nancy, who was wearing jeans, put one foot in a stirrup and swung herself gracefully into the saddle. As she began to post up and down on the spring-mounted hobbyhorse, the music- box mechanism in the stand tinkled out a gay, lively rendition of “Yankee Doodle.”

“Oh, hey! This is great!” Nancy exclaimed. Joy watched merrily. “Something tells me you’re an expert horsewoman, Nancy!”

“I’ve ridden in a few shows.” Chuckling, she added, “If I had a horse like Glory at home, I’d probably have no time for detecting!”

The ride and the tune ended with both girls convulsed in a fit of laughter as Nancy dismounted. Even while galloping to the music, she had been aware of some of the fine details of the horse’s carving, and now that she was out of the saddle and on her feet again, she could appreciate the workmanship even more.

“You know, Joy,” she mused with one finger to her lips as she gazed at the lovely steed, “Glory is not one of the original carousel horses. It’s carved in a much more realistic and lifelike style.”

“Well, I always knew it was more beautiful than the other horses on the merry-go-round,” Joy said proudly, “but I’m not sure I ever noticed it was of different workmanship. Why? Does that have some connection with Daddy’s riddle?”

“Not necessarily. But it does mean the carousel operator lied to me for some reason.” Nancy explained how Leo Novak had told her the lead horse had been replaced twice: once when Joy’s father bought Glory, and again when the replacement horse was damaged by a park truck.

But if Glory, too, was not one of the original carousel steeds, then the lead horse must have been replaced three times!

Another thought intrigued and excited Nancy. When Fingers Malone and Baldy Krebs

were sneakily examining the carousel horses on Monday night after the park closed, could Glory have been the one they were looking for?

Also, the burglars who broke into the Trents’ house had taken nothing. Was this because the arrival of the police car had scared them off? Or could they have been looking for Joy’s carousel horse, but failed to find it because it was at the day-care center?

Nancy realized that if her theorizing was right, then Glory must be valuable for some reason! . . . But why?

Nancy was still deep in thought as she and Joy walked away down the flagstone path leading from the old house to the street—so deeply absorbed, in fact, that she stumbled and almost fell.

“Oh, Nancy dear!” cried Joy, catching her friend by the arm. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, thanks—just stubbed my toe,” Nancy said ruefully. Looking down, she saw that one of the ancient flags had tilted unevenly, so that a corner of it protruded above the ground, and this was what had caught her foot.

A startled expression came over Nancy’s face as another exciting hunch flashed through her mind. “Joy, I’ve just thought of something!” she cried. “Let’s go back to your house right away!”

As they drove through the afternoon traffic, Joy listened eagerly to Nancy’s idea.

“Are you aware,” the girl sleuth inquired, “that the flower called iris also has another

name?”

Joy nodded. “Of course. Some people call them flags.” As she uttered the last word, Joy caught on with a smile to Nancy’s trend of thought. “Oh! Is that what gave you your sudden inspiration—when you stumbled back there?”

“Right! And, by the way, have you ever had algebra in school, Joy?”

“Yes, though I must admit I’m no genius at math. Why?”

“Because if you think of you father’s message as a mathematical equation, it makes sense!” Joy wrinkled her forehead. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Well, maybe I should have said it makes sense if you substitute the word ‘flag’ for the question mark—because Old Glory is also a flag,” Nancy explained. “In other words, the message would then read: Iris equals flag equals Old Glory!”

“Of course! I get it now!” Joy exclaimed. “Oh, Nancy, how brilliant of you! So a flag must be the answer to Daddy’s riddle!”

“Exactly! and I suspect the place to look for whatever flag he’s referring to is right there in his study!”

Minutes later, the two girls were hurrying into John Trent’s study. Almost at once, Nancy’s attention fastened on a metal statuette. It portrayed an old-time western cavalryman of Indian-fighting days. He was mounted on liuistjback and carrying a banner in one hand.

The statuette, Nancy noticed, was a bronze casting. But evidently, the banner had been separately crafted. Its slender staff—which, though rigid, was not much thicker than a stout wire—passed through an opening in the rider’s hand. Its lower end fitted into a socket on his saddle.

Nancy cautiously fingered the flagstaff. Despite its snug fit, she noticed that it could be jiggled slightly.

“Oh!” Joy gasped, looking on in wide-eyed suspense. “Do you think that’s the flag Daddy meant?”

“We’ll soon find out,” Nancy prophesied. She tugged on the flagstaff, pulling it upward through the hole in the rider’s hand.

As the staff came loose from its saddle socket, something else came out with it. Joy snatched the object up excitedly.

It was a tiny wad of fine tissue paper!

Both girls held their breath as Joy uncrumpled and smoothed out the tissue.

It bore a crude drawing of a horse—with a frog riding on its back!

“Another riddle!” Joy exclaimed. “What on earth does it mean?”

“A frog on a horse,” Nancy murmured pensively. Then she shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know, either, Joy. But the drawing must mean something, or your father wouldn’t have left it here for you to find. I’m sure we can decipher it if we put our heads together and think hard enough.”

In the meantime, the statuette itself—the bronze likeness of a western cavalryman—had started a brand-new train of thought in Nancy’s mind. “There’s another lead on the carousel mystery that I want to check out this afternoon, Joy,” she went on. “I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything to report.”

From the Trents’ house, Nancy drove to the River Heights Public Library. There she looked up the name Walter Kruse in the catalog file. Several books were listed about the famous western artist and his work, and Nancy was able to find one of them on the shelves. It was entitled The Art of Walter Kruse.

She took her find to a table near the window and began leafing through its pages. As she studied the reproductions in color of Kruse’s paintings and sculptures, Nancy grew more and more excited. “So my hunch was right!” she murmured under her breath. “Now I’m sure of it!”

After returning the book to its place on the shelf, Nancy went to the pay telephone in the library’s front lobby and called the director of the River Heights Art Museum, who was an old friend. They spoke for several minutes. Then she hung up and called reporter Rick Jason at the News.

“Hi, Nancy!” he said. “How are you coming on the carousel mystery?”

“I think I’m getting close to a solution, but I’ll need your help. Would you do me a favor?”

“Just name it!”

Nancy told him about Joy Trent’s carousel horse at the day-care center and asked if he could arrange to have a picture story about it

appear in the evening paper. “I know it’s late to be asking,” she added apologetically, “but this is really important. It may pay off in quite a news scoop if I do succeed in solving the mystery.”

“Okay. We’re almost ready to go to press, so we may have to remake a couple of pages to fit it in, but that’s no great problem. I’ll talk to the editor and get a photographer on the job pronto.”

“Another thing,” Nancy went on hastily. “Could your editor possibly use his influence with the television news people to get a similar story broadcast on tonight’s news? You know— about how a horse from the haunted carousel has turned up at the local day-care center?” “One can but try,” Rick Jason replied. “If I pass the word that it may help Nancy Drew solve the carousel mystery, I think they’ll probably go along. But remember—I get the scoop.” The teenage sleuth chuckled. “That’s a promise. And thanks a million for your help!”

Hanging up, Nancy hurried out of the library to her car and headed for Bess Marvin’s house. Bess told her that Ned Nickerson had been trying to reach her.

“Okay, thanks, Bess—I’ll call him,” Nancy responded. “But first, how would you like to

help me out on a little detective work at the

park?”

Bess’s blue eyes lit up with suppressed excitement. “Need you ask? ... I mean—well, providing it’s not too dangerous.”

Nancy dimpled. “Don’t worry—no more crook chases. At least, not if I can help it!”

She explained hastily what she had in mind. Then she called Ned and arranged to meet him at Riverside Park. Moments later, the two girls were whizzing there in Nancy’s trim, blue sports car.

On arriving, Nancy stayed behind in the car, according to their prearranged plan, while Bess made her way on foot to the carousel. There she stopped and began watching the merry-go- round revolve gaily with its riders, as if she were waiting for someone. Every few minutes she would walk about restlessly and take up a new position, just to make sure the operator noticed her.

Leo Novak had seen Bess Marvin before, and soon recognized her as Nancy Drew’s chum. “Waiting for your friend?” he asked presently.

“Yes—for Nancy Drew.” Bess pretended to be in a chatty mood and began boasting about Nancy’s many successes as a sleuth. “Incidentally, I guess you won’t have to worry anymore

about your carousel being haunted!”

“Oh no?” Novak tilted an eyebrow. “How come?”

“Well, this is off the record, you understand, but Nancy told me she found a hobbyhorse at the River Heights Day-Care Center, which originally came off your Wonderland Gallop.” “Is that so? One of Mr. Ogden’s old carousel horses, huh?” Novak’s expression took on a shrewd frown as he added, “What’s that got to do with the haunting, though?”

Bess shrugged her plump shoulders. “Search me, but that’s what Nancy told me. I believe she thinks that whoever was playing such a prank on you was really searching for that horse—and now that it’s turned up, the prank won’t be necessary anymore. If there’s no more haunting, she says, that will prove her theory’s correct.”

“Hmph.” Novak grunted in a way that sounded as if he was not convinced. “Sounds pretty far out to me.”

Several minutes later, Nancy came walking toward the merry-go-round to join Bess. On seeing Nancy, the carousel operator said, “Your girlfriend’s been telling me you’ve figured out why my carousel plays at night.”

Nancy smiled politely. “Well, let’s say I have a theory about it.”

“She also claims there won’t be any more of this spooky business.”

“Only if my theory’s right.”

Leo Novak continued to ply Nancy with questions, obviously fishing for information, but she fended them off with a few teasing remarks. Then Nancy turned to her chum. “Come on, Bess—it’s past five. We’d better be getting back to the car.”

As the two girls walked off, Novak stared after them with an irritated look of frustration.

Ned Nickerson was waiting beside Nancy’s blue sports car when she and Bess reached the parking lot. “Still hard at work on the mystery trail?”

Nancy grinned back at her boyfriend. “Just testing a theory, you might say. Care to come on an errand with me?”

“Sure. Whereabouts?”

“The Regent Hotel. But I promised Bess I’d drive her home first.”

Ned followed the girls in his own car. Then, after going to her own house and parking in the driveway, Nancy slid in beside him. On their way to the hotel, she related the strange way in which the mystery woman, Mrs. Rose Harrod, had sent an iris to Joy Trent.

“I want to let her know that Joy Trent intends to get in touch with her,” Nancy ended.

The Regent Hotel, though rather small and old-fashioned in its decor, was one of the most exclusive hotels in River Heights. Nancy first tried to call Mrs. Harrod’s room on one of the house phones in the lobby. But no one answered, so she sought help from the desk clerk.

“Would you happen to know, by any chance, where Mrs. Harrod has gone, or how soon she’ll be back?”

“I couldn’t say, miss. But let me check her room slot.” The clerk turned to the honeycomb of numbered cubbyholes behind the marble- topped counter. “Well, her room key’s here, so she’s evidently out somewhere. Let’s see what this note says.”

He glanced at the slip of paper that he pulled out of the 922 cubbyhole. “Hm, that’s odd,” he murmured and handed it to Nancy.

The paper was the kind of form slip on which clerks jotted down messages to or from the hotel guests. It said:

TIME. 5:45 P.M.

MESSAGE. If Nancy Drew or Joy Trent phones or comes to hotel, please tell them I had to go out to airport but will be back shortly.

Mrs. Harrod

Nancy looked up and saw the puzzled expression on the desk clerk’s face. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m not sure. . . .” He scratched his head uncertainly and turned to glance up at the wall clock overhead. “It’s now going on six, and I’ve been on duty for the past few hours—but I know I didn’t write that message. So it must have been left in the slot yesterday.”