Authors: Carolyn Keene

Tags: #Art Thieves, #Jewel Thieves, #Women Detectives, #Detective and Mystery Stories, #Girls & Women, #Mystery & Detective, #Dance Schools, #Juvenile Fiction, #Adventure and Adventurers, #Mysteries & Detective Stories, #Fiction, #Adventures and Adventurers, #Mystery Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #Adventure Stories, #Mystery & Detective Stories, #Drew; Nancy (Fictitious Character), #General, #Smuggling, #Mystery and Detective Stories

The Scarlet Slipper Mystery (7 page)

BOOK: The Scarlet Slipper Mystery

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“Who?” Nancy asked.

“Nobody dangerous. Just a couple of my fraternity brothers. They have a standing invitation to use the place whenever they want to.”

Not understanding such a custom, the Fontaines were afraid they would be considered intruders.

“We will not stay. We do not want to spoil the fun of your brothers,” Helene demurred.

It took several minutes of persuasion to convince the Fontaines everything would be all right.

“There’s no reason why all of you can’t stay here together,” Ned insisted. “You can depend upon the boys to keep your secret. In fact, it might be a good thing to have a couple of strong-armed guys on hand if any of your enemies show up.”

Helene laughed. “I have heard much about these American fraternity boys. It will be nice to meet some of them.”

“And will they be glad to meet you!” Ned said.

He went inside the cabin to explain the arrangement to his friends while Henri and the girls unloaded the car. Presently two good-look ing youths, one tall and blond, the other short and dark, strode down the path.

“Hi, Nancy!” said the tall one.

“Hello, Steve,” she answered, and to the shorter boy, “Art, how are you?”

The Fontaines were introduced and at once both boys became very solicitous about Helene. Conversing gaily, they escorted her toward the cabin. Nancy followed, with Ned and Henri carrying the luggage. The young detective smiled. The plan was working out even better than she had anticipated! The various angles of the mystery were explained to Steve and Art.

At the end Nancy remarked, “As you can see, this whole business has to be kept secret. The lives of the Fontaines may be in danger if anyone finds out where they are.”

Steve said, “You can count on us for protection —at least until late tomorrow night. Then we’ll have to leave.”

Nancy turned to the brother and sister. “I’ll be out to see you. In the meantime, we can keep in touch with one another by phone. I suggest we don’t use names, though. Let’s identify ourselves with the word
scarlet.”

“Good,” Helene agreed. Then impulsively she threw her arms around Nancy’s neck and kissed her.

Steve whistled. “Wish I were a detective,” he said, and Helene blushed.

Henri thanked Nancy and Ned for coming to the Fontaines’ rescue and wished them a safe trip home.

The young detective and her date drove back to River Heights silently for a while; then Ned chuckled. “It isn’t often that I get a chance to ride along the Muskoka River with you in the moonlight. Guess I can thank my lucky stars tonight.”

Nancy smiled and looked up at the sky. The conversation continued in a light vein until they pulled up in front of the Drew home and walked to the door. Then Nancy again became the alert investigator. The house was dark and she heard Togo barking furiously.

“Something must be wrong, Ned. Dad and Hannah would never allow Togo to keep barking. And there’s always a light on.”

Nancy unlocked the door and she and Ned stepped into the hallway. Ned clicked on the light. The dog was not in sight and the barking seemed curiously muffled.

“Togo’s in the coat closet,” said Ned, going toward a door under the stairway.

At the same time, Nancy caught a glimpse of the Drews’ housekeeper gagged and tied to a chair in the living room. Quickly the young detective snapped on a light and hurried over to the woman.

“Hannah!” Nancy cried, aghast, removing the gag. “Who did this? The fiend!”

At first Mrs. Gruen could not even speak, but she took several deep breaths as Nancy untied the bonds and slipped them off. Nancy’s outburst had brought Ned from the hall, a whimpering Togo in his arms. He stared in astonishment.

“Hannah!” Nancy cried. “Who did this to you?”

Finally Mrs. Gruen said, “He was a fiend all right. She was too. But I didn’t tell them! I didn’t! I didn’t say a word!”

“Who?” Ned asked in bewilderment.

Nancy realized that the woman was hysterical. Hannah got only as far as explaining where Mr. Drew had gone, then had to give up. Nancy put an arm around her.

“Hannah, dear, you’ve had an awful fright and I want to know what happened. But don’t try to talk any more until you rest and I bring you some tea.”

As she started for the kitchen, Togo leaped from Ned’s arms into Nancy’s and began licking her in overjoyed affection. She carried him with her and gave him a puppy biscuit.

Nancy returned to the living room in a few minutes with tea. Between sips, Hannah, somewhat recovered, told her story.

“Brave little Togo,” she said in conclusion. “I guess he’s the reason that awful man didn’t carry out his threat to harm me. Togo got out of the drapery he’d been rolled in and nearly bit the woman. Then the man forced the dog into the closet. But Togo kept barking so loudly, he frightened the couple away.”

Nancy hugged her pet. “Togo, you’ve really done a wonderful job tonight.”

Hannah Gruen was more composed now and gave Nancy a description of the intruders.

“That sounds like the Judsons,” Nancy commented. “Ned, let’s look around and see if by chance they left any clues.”

First she helped Hannah to her room; then she and Ned turned on all the lights in the house and began to check the dwelling from cellar to attic. So far as clues were concerned, it looked for a while as though the search was to be futile.

But while the couple were in the attic, Nancy leaned over a trunk near one corner and spotted a small object on the floor behind it. In the light she saw that it was a knife. Since it did not belong to the Drews, the Judsons must have dropped it.

“I think it’s a palette knife used by artists for mixing paints,” Nancy commented. “It probably dropped out of one of Mr. Judson’s pockets when he bent over to look behind the trunk.”

The knife was a simple one with a polished wooden handle. Near the base of it had been carved a small R. For Raoul? Nancy speculated.

“Does this mean that Mr. Judson is an artist?” Ned asked.

“I wonder,” Nancy speculated.

CHAPTER IX

Ballet Interlude

FOR nearly an hour Nancy and Ned talked about the possible meaning of the R on the artist’s palette knife. Both were sure it had special significance.

“Have you any idea how you might find out more about it?” Ned asked.

“I think I’ll go over to that apartment house on Oakwood Avenue tomorrow and interview the superintendent and that Frenchman who knew the Judsons.”

“I’ll go along,” said Ned with a wink. “Bess told me about Monsieur Guion.”

Nancy laughed, assuring Ned that the man did not interest her. She said she would be delighted to have Ned go along.

Early the next afternoon, a beautiful Sunday with a brilliant blue sky, Ned picked Nancy up in his car and they drove to Oakwood Avenue. As before, the superintendent did not answer his bell, so Nancy pressed the one for the Guion apartment.

The inner door of the apartment house opened quickly, and Nancy and Ned walked down to 1A. The Frenchman stood in the doorway.

“Ah, you have come back, mademoiselle,” he said with a smile. “And you have brought your fiancé?”

As he spoke, Monsieur Guion twirled one end of his mustache and invited the couple in. They followed him and sat down.

“You were a great help to me the other day when you answered my questions about the Judsons,” said Nancy. “I’d like to ask you some more.”

“Your wish is my command,” Guion replied with a sweeping bow.

Ned frowned but said nothing. Nancy asked the Frenchman if Mr. Judson was an artist.

“Oh, nol” Guion said, shaking his head vigorously.

“Does he have any friends who are artists?” the young detective asked.

“That I do not know,” Guion answered. “We did not become good friends. He is what you Americans call a washout. He was not good company. I did not like him.”

“You have been very kind,” Nancy said after a while, rising. Then she and Ned left. When they reached the Drew residence, Nancy was pleased to learn that her father had arrived. She asked him about the outcome of his trip to New York.

The lawyer’s face clouded. “It was a wild-goose chase! A hoax!”

Nancy and Ned were amazed. “You mean Mr. Koff didn’t meet you?” Nancy asked.

“He not only didn’t meet me, but swore that he had never sent the message,” Mr. Drew replied. “I waited a long time at the New York Airport, then telephoned Mr. Koff at the Cliffwood Hotel. He was astonished to hear what had happened.”

“But his voice?” Nancy suggested to her father.

“Whoever called me,” said Mr. Drew angrily, “imitated Johann Koff’s voice perfectly. But I can’t understand why I was tricked.”

His daughter told him what had happened at the house the previous evening, and Hannah, who had entered the room, gave her version of the story.

“Someone wanted me out of the way,” the lawyer said. “I can’t understand why I was sent so far away, though.”

“Unless a person connected with the Fontaine case was in New York and followed you to see where you would go. Where did you spend the night?” Nancy asked.

“At your Aunt Eloise’s,” her father answered. “We went to church this morning and had dinner before I left. I hope she won’t become involved in this.”

Mr. Drew now asked what his daughter had been doing during his absence. She showed him the knife with the R on it. He examined it carefully but could not explain why a man who was not an artist should be carrying it.

“Perhaps Henri might know a reason,” he suggested.

Nancy telephoned him. When the young man answered, she said, “Scarlet.”

“Scarlet here,” was the reply.

Nancy told him about the knife in guarded tones, knowing the Cedar Lake phone was a party line, but Henri could not explain why anyone but an artist would use a palette knife.

“This puzzle is too much for me,” said Ned, rising. “Let’s take a walk, Nancy.”

She suggested that they call on Mrs. Parsons to tell her Millie Koff was returning to the charity show. The woman was delighted to hear the good news.

“But, my dear,” she said, “this doesn’t mean we’re going to lose you! No, indeed, you’re going to stay in the show.”

“I don’t understand, Mrs. Parsons,” Nancy answered.

Mrs. Parsons said that Millie Koff would still dance in the performance. But another soloist had dropped out.

“So you can do your dance in place of hers.” The woman chuckled.

Nancy tried to beg off, but Mrs. Parsons took both of the girl’s hands in her own. “Please,” she begged, “take the part. You danced so beautifully the other day we must have you in the show.”

Ned urged her to do so, and Nancy finally accepted. She said she expected her ankle to be all right in a couple of days and would then come to rehearsals.

The following morning Nancy received a phone call from Mrs. Nickerson. Ned’s mother explained that due to the illness of a close friend who needed her help, she could not go to the dancing school that day. Nancy promised to take her place as receptionist.

Bess arrived at about two o’clock, looking flustered and worried. Nancy asked what the trouble was.

“Oh, I haven’t had one minute to look up anything about the history of the dance,” she said. “Nancy, you’ll just have to do that part for me.”

Nancy said she would be happy to do it. Bess insisted that Nancy put on a ballet costume, so that she would look the part. To please her, the young detective did so.

The first group of ballet students were very attentive to both the story and the dance lesson, and the two girls were delighted with their progress. As a younger group came in, Bess whispered that she was simply famished.

“Nancy,” she said, “be a darling and keep talking to those girls while I run out for a soda.”

“But how about the calorie count?” Nancy reminded the plump girl with a laugh.

“Oh, just one soda won’t make any difference,” Bess insisted. She slipped a coat over her dancing costume and went down the stairway.

Nancy helped the children into their leotards, then went into the practice room with them. They sat in a semicircle on the floor, with Nancy on a bench facing them.

“Ballet is a very old dance form,” she began. “Classical ballet tells a story—happy, or sad, or exciting without the use of words. Nowadays we still tell stories or express emotions by dancing to appropriate music.

“The great ballet artists know just what movements of the dance go with various types of music. Today let’s concentrate on interpretative dance. Susie,” said Nancy to a blue-eyed child, “I’ll put on a record and you dance whatever you think it might represent.”

Nancy started the “Parade of the Wooden Soldiers.” Instantly Susie marched, stiff-legged, around the room.

“Good!” said Nancy. “And now, Carol, here’s one for you.”

BOOK: The Scarlet Slipper Mystery

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