The Haunted Carousel (8 page)

Nancy felt a thrill of excitement, but struggled to keep her own voice calm and casual. “Oh yes, I remember. But how did you know who I was, or where to reach me?”

“Because I recognized you from your picture in the newspaper story about the haunted carousel.”

“I see. May I ask who’s calling?”

There was a moment’s hesitation at the other end of the line. “I’d rather not answer that question for the moment, Miss Drew, if you don’t mind. It happens that I need your help. I wonder if I could meet with you somewhere.” Nancy was only too eager to learn more about her mysterious caller. “When did you have in mind?” she asked.

“Right away—or as soon as you possibly can,” the woman answered in an urgent voice. “Very well. Would you like to come here?” “Oh—thanks but no, I’d prefer someplace else. If you could meet me at the Romany Tearoom in ten or fiften minutes, I’d appreciate it.”

“Okay, I’ll be there,” Nancy promised and hung up.

The tearoom was located among a busy stretch of small shops on the fringe of downtown River Heights. After parking her car, she entered and saw the woman caller waving to

her from a small, candle-lit table by the big, beige-curtained window.

“It was very good of you to come, Miss Drew.” The woman smiled and, with a gesture of her hand, invited her guest to have a chair.

“I must confess, your call has made me very curious,” said Nancy, sitting down.

“Small wonder! I apologize for being so mysterious, but as I said on the phone, there’s a reason. May I assume you’re a friend of Joy Trent?”

“Yes, I am,” Nancy answered.

“Then I’d like to ask you a favor.” The woman indicated a white cardboard box bearing a florist’s label that was lying alongside her purse on the table. “Would you deliver this to Joy this afternoon?”

Nancy hesitated, troubled. She didn’t know this woman, and no matter how nice she seemed outwardly, she might still mean harm to Joy.

“I don’t mean to sound impolite or unfriendly,” she murmured aloud, “but may I ask what’s inside?”

The woman smiled. “You’re quite right to be cautious, Miss Drew—I don’t blame you a bit.” Then she lifted the cover just enough to show that opening it entailed no danger. “But if you’d like to be absolutely sure, you can go and check with the florist.”

She indicated the name on the box and then pointed out the tearoom window. “His shop is just across the street.”

Nancy’s slight, cautious frown relaxed into a sudden smile. She had decided to trust her own judgment of the woman’s character. “Very well.”

“Oh, thank you, Miss Drew! My name and phone number are inside the box. Would you be kind enough to call me and let me know the outcome of the delivery?”

As Nancy said yes, a waitress came to their table, carrying a tray of tiny, fancy sandwiches as well as cups, saucers, and a pot of steaming tea.

“I’m grateful to you for trusting me, Miss Drew.” The woman’s attractive face reflected Nancy’s own smile. “Now let’s have some tea!” Fifteen minutes later, Nancy parted from her mysterious new acquaintance outside the Romany Tearoom. But instead of going straight to her car parked at the curb nearby, she stopped at an outdoor phone booth and called Joy Trent.

“Hi, Nancy!” the red-haired girl responded. “Don’t tell me you’ve figured out my father’s letter already?”

Nancy chuckled. “I’m afraid not, Joy. But something else has come up—something rather odd. I’ve been asked to deliver a package to you.”

“To me?” Joy sounded surprised. “Who’s it from?

“A woman who refuses to identify herself.” The teenage sleuth briefly explained how the package had been entrusted to her.

“Oh gosh, now you’ve got me curious! Could you bring it right over?” Joy begged.

“I’m practically on my way!”

When Nancy arrived at the Trents’ house, she found Mrs. Yawley on hand with Joy. Judging from her facial expression, the tight-lipped woman was as curious about the package as her niece.

Nancy debated briefly whether or not to mention that the woman she had met at the Romany Tearoom was the same person she had seen leaving the Trents’ house earlier. But she judged it wiser not to bring this up for the time being. In any case, she had a strong hunch that Mrs. Yawley already suspected who had sent the package.

Joy took the florist box from Nancy and, with bated breath, untied it and removed the cover. A gasp escaped her lips, and her eyes brightened with excitement.

“Nancy! It’s an irisV’

She held out the box long enough to show its contents. Inside lay a purple flower—and a folded note!

Joy hastily unfolded and read the message, then handed it to Nancy. It said:

If you care to get in touch with me, call the Regent Hotel and ask for Mrs.

Rose Harrod in Room 922.

“Here, let me see that!” said Mrs. Yawley, impolitely snatching the note away from Nancy.

“Golly,” Joy blurted out, lifting the iris from the box, “this may mean she knows something about Mother—or about that letter Daddy left me! I’m going to call her right away!”

She started toward the phone, but stopped short as her aunt exclaimed harshly:

“Oh no, you’re not! The woman who sent this is obviously nothing but a fraud and a troublemaker! Joy, I absolutely forbid you to contact that creature!”

Joy’s eyes flashed rebelliously. “You’ve no right to take that attitude, Aunt Selma!” she protested.

“I’ve every right!” Mrs. Yawley snapped. “Just remember, young lady, I’m your legal guardian!”

“And maybe you’d better remember what Daddy’s will said!” Joy’s voice trembled with indignation.

The thin-lipped woman looked her niece up and down scathingly. “Just what are you referring to?”

“According to the lawyer, Mr. Trimble, his will only names you as my temporary guardian,” Joy pointed out, holding up the iris. “So

don’t think you can stop me forever from seeing the lady who sent this! You may not even remain my guardian until I’m twenty-one!”

If it’s true that redheads have hot tempers, thought Nancy, Joy Trent certainly looks the part right at this moment! The young girl’s cheeks were aflame behind their sprinkling of freckles, and her bright red hair added to her fiery look.

“Besides,” Joy went on, “it’s absurd to forbid me to see someone who may be able to tell me about my mother—or help to explain Daddy’s riddle! What harm can it do, for goodness’ sake, to hear whatever she has to say?”

Turning to her friend for support, Joy added, “Don’t you agree, Nancy?”

Before the teenage sleuth could reply, Selma Yawley rounded on her, “You keep out of this, Miss Drew! You’ve caused enough trouble already by acting as that wretched woman’s messenger!”

Nancy was not intimidated in the least by Mrs. Yawley’s manner. Nevertheless, she thought it best not to take sides for the moment, even though there was no doubt where her own sympathies lay.

“Why not wait and ask me that question tomorrow, Joy?” she suggested with a calm smile.

“Perhaps you’ll both see things in better perspective then. In the meantime, it’s late, and I’d better be getting home.”

It was hard to erase the unpleasant incident from her mind, however. At the dinner table that evening, she told her father what had happened and asked his opinion on the subject. “What should I have done, Daddy?”

“What did you feel like doing?” said Carson Drew, responding to her question with another question.

Nancy chuckled. “To be perfectly honest, I thought her aunt was behaving like a stuffy old witch, and I felt like telling Joy to use her own common sense and do just as she pleased. I mean, it seemed so unreasonable for Mrs. Yaw- ley to forbid Joy even to speak to the woman!” Nancy’s smile faded and she ended uncertainly, “The trouble was, I . . . well, I just wasn’t sure I had any right to butt in.”

“What about her father’s point of view?” “How do you mean?” inquired Nancy, raising an eyebrow.

“Presumably, this John Trent must have been a pretty shrewd judge of character to be so successful. Wouldn’t he have had good reason for naming his sister to be Joy’s guardian?”

“Perhaps he had no other choice—she may

have been the only other relative he had,” said Nancy. “But, anyhow, that’s just the point. According to Joy, the family lawyer, Mr. Trimble, said that her father’s will only named Mrs. Yaw- ley as Joy’s temporary guardian. Also, that she might not continue as guardian until Joy was twenty-one. Doesn’t that sound as if he wasn’t wholly convinced Mrs. Yawley was the best choice?”

“Hm, you may have something there.” Mr. Drew sipped his coffee thoughtfully for a moment. “And you say the lawyer’s name is Trimble, eh? That would be Fred Trimble, I imagine. I’ve met him in court a few times and at the bar association dinners. Let me sound him out about this, Nancy, and see what he has to say.” “Oh Daddy, if you could, I’d be grateful!” Nancy had just helped Hannah clear the table, when Bess and George arrived excitedly.

“Oh, Nancy, we’re going to have a slumber party on the houseboat and we want you to come! Please say you will—it’ll be fun!” Bess bubbled with enthusiasm and anticipation.

“Just the three of us, Nancy,” George chimed in. “No babysitting tonight. The Custers are staying at my house tonight, and Uncle Bill said we could sleep on the boat if we wanted to . . . What do you say, Mr. Drew?” George appealed to a smiling Carson Drew.

“It certainly sounds attractive,” he replied. “Sleeping on a river in good weather is very calming.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Dad.” Nancy hugged him. “Come on, kids, and I’ll throw some things in my overnight bag.” Nancy turned and ran upstairs, her two friends trooping after her.

In her room, Nancy took a small zippered bag from her closet and folded her nightclothes into it. Then, with George and Bess’s help, she collected comb, brush, and toiletries from her dressing table.

Minutes later, they had said good-bye to Carson Drew and Hannah Gruen, and were driving off to the marina in Nancy’s little blue sports car.

The evening had turned sultry rather unexpectedly, and by the time they reached the houseboat, the moon had disappeared behind a bank of clouds.

“Gee, I hope it doesn’t rain,” Bess said plaintively.

“What’s the difference? It’ll just be more cozy.” George laughed.

“Right,” Nancy agreed. “Don’t worry, Bess— we’ll be safely docked at the marina.”

Once aboard the houseboat, the girls changed into their nightclothes and made cocoa. Taking their cups out of the galley and going out on the

small, open deck, the girls settled themselves in deck chairs and listened to the water gently lapping against the sides. At George’s suggestion, they began telling each other ghost stories.

As a wispy fog drifted in from the river, the stories grew spookier and spookier. Finally, Bess called a halt. “If we don’t stop right now, I won’t be able to sleep for bad dreams! Let’s go to bed.”

Giggling, her friends agreed. Going back inside the cabin, they settled down in their bunk beds and, one by one, dropped off to sleep.

Sometime during the night, Nancy awoke . . . with an unpleasant sense of danger. What had awakened her?

With a sudden gasp of alarm, she realized that the houseboat was in motion! She could feel the deck swaying to and fro beneath her—far more than would have been the case if the boat were still safe in its sheltered slip at the marina.

It must have come loose from its moorings, Nancy realized. We must be adrift on the river!

Springing up from her bunk, she pulled on her robe and slippers and hurried out on deck. She shivered as the damp night air sent a chill through her body.

Thick layers of swirling mist surrounded the houseboat on all sides, and it was impossible to

see more than a few yards in any direction. Yet despite the fog and darkness, there was no longer any doubt in Nancy’s mind that the boat had come adrift.

If they were still in their berth, a faint, haloed glow should have been visible from the marina’s dock lights. As it was, not even a glimmer pierced the dark, oily fog anywhere she looked!

The distant hoot of a foghorn and the muffled clang of a ship’s bell reached her ears through the billowing mist. The eerie sounds racked Nancy with a thrill of apprehension.

Oh, what can we do?! she asked herself. The first thing, of course, was to wake Bess and George. Then they’d better start the engine and try to—

Nancy broke off with a sudden cry of fear and her eyes widened in fright.

The high, white bow of a good-sized motor cruiser had just loomed through the fog only a short distance away! The craft was bearing straight down on them!

For a moment, Nancy stood paralyzed with fear. Then she roused herself to action and began shouting, “Stop! . . . Stop!” at the top of her lungs.

She had no idea where to find the switch for the houseboat’s running lights, but darting back inside, she at least turned on the cabin lights and also snatched up her handbag.

George and Bess had already been awakened by Nancy’s loud cries. Bewildered, but realizing that some sort of emergency had arisen, they both jumped out of bed, wriggled into their robes, and followed her out on deck. The sight of the oncoming cruiser shocked them wide awake!

Nancy plucked a small flashlight from her bag and began shining its beam back and forth. The other two girls joined in her frantic shouts.

Just in the nick of time, the high, white prow of the cruiser veered away!

Presently, an angry male voice came bellowing through an electric bullhorn at the three trembling girls. “What are you doing on the river without lights?!”

As the other craft maneuvered into position alongside the houseboat, Nancy was able to explain that they had been securely moored at the River Heights marina, but that somehow the boat had come adrift during the night.