The Haunted Showboat (2 page)
Read The Haunted Showboat Online
Authors: Carolyn Keene
Tags: #Mardi Gras, #Women Detectives, #Detective and Mystery Stories, #Girls & Women, #Showboats, #Carnival, #Mystery & Detective, #Juvenile Fiction, #Adventure and Adventurers, #Detectives, #Mysteries & Detective Stories, #Fiction, #Haunted Places - Louisiana - New Orleans, #River Boats, #Women Sleuths, #Adventure Stories, #New Orleans (La.), #Drew; Nancy (Fictitious Character), #Haunted Places, #Mystery and Detective Stories
CHAPTER II
A Bomb Scare
HANNAH GRUEN had hurried downstairs. From the kitchen doorway she saw Nancy fall. With a cry of alarm she rushed from the house.
“Are you hurt?” the woman asked.
“It—The car just knocked the wind out of me for the moment,” Nancy replied.
As Hannah helped Nancy to her feet, the girl looked mournfully down the street as the convertible disappeared around the corner.
“I’ll call the police!” Hannah declared.
She and Nancy went into the house. The housekeeper urged Nancy to lie down for a few minutes, but the young detective insisted upon going to the phone herself.
“I can give the police a description of the car thief,” she said. “He was dark and slender, with small, piercing black eyes. He had a very low forehead, and his hair looked coarse and stiff.”
“That’s an excellent description, Nancy,” said the housekeeper. “I certainly hope the police catch him soon.”
Before going to the phone, Nancy looked up the serial number of her car. Then she got in touch with Captain McGinnis of the River Heights police department.
After giving the thief’s description, along with the car’s serial and license plate numbers, Nancy recalled that her packed suitcase was in the car. She told the captain about this, then hung up.
“Oh, dear,” she said to the housekeeper, “all my things are gone! I can get new clothes for myself, but I’d certainly hate to lose Mother’s shawl and fan.”
“I don’t blame you, honey,” said Mrs. Gruen. “But tell me this. How in the world could that man have taken the car? You locked it, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. It means the man who stole it must be an experienced car thief.”
Just then, they heard Mr. Drew’s coupé come into the driveway. Nancy hurried to the kitchen door to meet her father, a tall, distinguished-looking man.
“What happened, Nancy?” Mr. Drew cried out, noting his daughter’s disheveled appearance.
Quickly Nancy explained and Mr. Drew looked stern. “It’s the work of an expert, all right. It wouldn’t surprise me if the thief has a police record.”
“That should make it easier to find him,” said Nancy. She went back to the phone and called first Bess, then George at their homes. Both girls were aghast at the news and said they hoped the convertible, as well as Nancy’s suitcase, would soon be recovered.
“I suppose we’ll have to postpone the trip until we can make other arrangements,” said Nancy. “I’ll have Dad see if he can get us plane reservations in the morning.”
“Oh, another day won’t make any difference,” said George. “Maybe by that time you’ll have your car back.”
But a phone call to the police department the next day was discouraging. Nancy’s blue convertible had not been sighted on any road leading out of River Heights.
“We’ve made inquiries around town,” said Captain McGinnis, “but so far my men haven’t turned up a single lead.”
During the morning Nancy shopped for new clothes to take on the trip. About five o’clock that afternoon Mr. Drew phoned his daughter to say that travel to New Orleans in Mardi Gras season was very heavy and it had been impossible for him to get plane tickets.
“But you’re going just the same,” he said. “Call Bess and George and tell them to be ready tomorrow morning.”
“But how are we traveling?” Nancy asked. There was no reply. Her father had hung up.
Nancy phoned her friends and gave them her father’s message. “Dad has something up his sleeve,” she said. “Maybe you’d better come over here and find out what’s going on.”
The cousins arrived in a short time and waited for Mr. Drew to come home. Presently a stunning new yellow convertible entered the Drews’ driveway. Nancy’s father, at the wheel, honked the horn loudly.
Nancy sprinted outside. Bess and George followed, bumping into each other to get to the car.
Mr. Drew wore a broad grin. “Like it, Nancy?” he asked.
“It’s a beauty! Is it your new car and are you going to lend it to me, Dad?”
Mr. Drew stepped outside, made a low bow, and announced, “I’m going to do better than that. This car is yours!”
Nancy threw her arms around her father. “Oh, you’re simply wonderful!” she exclaimed. “But what’s going to happen if the police find my blue convertible?”
The lawyer said that he had arranged with the automobile dealer to take the blue car in trade if it should be recovered.
“I was thinking of turning it in, anyway,” said Mr. Drew. “I was going to wait until your birthday and surprise you, but you sort of put one over on me by letting that thief take it!” he teased. Sobering, he went on, “That car had a lot of mileage on it and was showing wear.”
“That’s right,” George spoke up. “And there was that big stain on the back of the rear seat where we upset an ink bottle and also a tear in the carpet.”
Nancy chuckled. “Maybe that thief did me a favor,” she remarked, then added wistfully, “But I certainly wish I could get my suitcase back.”
As Bess and George said good-by, assuring Nancy that they would be ready early the following morning to start the trip to New Orleans, Mr. Drew turned to Nancy.
“How about taking the girls home in your new car?” he suggested. “After you drop them off, stop at police headquarters. Captain McGinnis wants you to look over the pictures in their rogues’ gallery and see if you can identify the thief.”
“Hop in, girls!” Nancy invited.
The three girls were thrilled with the smooth-riding quality of the yellow convertible and Nancy declared that driving it was no effort at all. After dropping the two girls at their homes, she continued on to headquarters. Here she looked at photograph after photograph of known car thieves.
“Not one of these,” the young detective said finally, “looks like the man who stole my car.”
“He may never have been apprehended,” said Captain McGinnis. “Well, we’ll keep up our search.”
Nancy thanked him and went home. In order to keep her new car from being stolen, Mr. Drew had purchased a special padlock for one of the rear wheels. This was put on and the garage door locked.
The night passed uneventfully. In the morning, after breakfast, Mr. Drew carried Nancy’s suitcase to the convertible. Then he and Hannah wished her a happy time on the trip and kissed her good-by.
“Thanks again, Dad,” Nancy said as she waved and drove off.
A few minutes later she stopped at Bess’s home, then at George’s. All three girls wore smart wool dresses and warm car coats. The trio chatted gaily as they drove out of town, discussing the recent trip they had taken to Virginia, where Nancy and her friends had had many exciting adventures solving
The Hidden Window Mystery.
The Hidden Window Mystery.
“Speaking of mysteries,” said George, “has there been any news of the car thief?”
“Not a clue,” Nancy replied. “It’s such a beautiful day I think I’ll take the back road through the country, instead of the highway, as far as Tartanville.”
The road led through rolling farm land, where the houses were quite a distance apart. Nancy was driving just under the speed limit when the girls suddenly noticed a ticking sound coming from the dashboard.
“What’s that?” Bess asked. “The electric clock? In a new car it shouldn’t make that much noise.”
Instantly Nancy pulled to the side of the road and turned off the ignition. She leaned down and looked up under the dashboard. Her face turned white with fear.
“There’s an alarm clock taped on here!” she cried. “It may be the timer for a bomb! Girls, run as fast as you can! Stop anyone coming along!”
Bess and George dashed out the right-hand door, while Nancy reached down and shut off the alarm switch, hoping that would prevent the bomb from exploding. Then, for safety’s sake, she got out and raced away from the car. Nancy ran in the opposite direction to the girls, in order to warn any oncoming motorist of possible danger.
Ten minutes passed. No one drove up and there was no explosion from Nancy’s car. Finally George, making a megaphone of her hands, yelled to Nancy:
“What’s next?”
Nancy called back that she was going to ask the driver of the first car which appeared to go back to the next town and have someone sent out from the police force to remove the bomb.
Bess called, “How could anyone get into the car to plant a bomb with your garage locked?”
“The man probably jimmied open the garage window, and the car doors weren’t locked.”
As she finished speaking, Nancy became aware of a delivery truck approaching in her direction. She signaled the driver to stop, and told him her story.
“Golly!” The young man whistled. “Sure, I’ll notify headquarters in a jiffy.”
He turned and sped off. Twenty minutes later the girls were relieved to see a police car approaching.
“Thank goodness!” George exclaimed.
In a matter of seconds, a man wearing a mask, chest protector, and steel link gauntlets jumped from the car and opened the hood of the yellow convertible.
As the girls watched from a distance, the policeman lifted out a round object. There was no question but that it was a bomb! He dropped it into a bucket of oil before beckoning to the girls to come forward.
“What’s back of this?” he asked.
Quickly Nancy explained what little she knew.
“Looks as if you have a pretty devilish enemy,” the officer remarked.
“Yes,” Nancy agreed.
Bess said, “He’s a fiend trying to blow us up!”
“Well, his scheme was spoiled this time,” the policeman said, and added, “Your car is okay now.” He radioed a report of the incident to headquarters, then drove back to town.
The three girls stepped into the convertible and once more started off. As they entered the town of Tartanville, Nancy said she wanted to call her father and tell him what had happened. While she went into a drugstore to telephone, Bess and George waited in the car.
Just before Nancy returned, a man in a black convertible started to pass the cousins. He slowed down and stared first at Bess and George, then at the yellow car. Then the inquisitive man put on power and disappeared around a corner.
Suddenly Bess grabbed her cousin’s arm. “George!” she cried. “That was Nancy’s stolen car he was driving. It’s been painted black!”
CHAPTER III
An Upsetting Delay
By THE time George recovered from the surprise of hearing that the black automobile was Nancy’s stolen car, the young detective herself had come from the drugstore.
“Quick! Jump in!” Bess urged.
Nancy instantly got behind the wheel of the yellow convertible. “What’s up?” she asked.
“I saw your stolen car!” Bess told her. “The man drove it around that corner. Hurry!”
Driving as fast as she dared, Nancy headed in the direction her friend had indicated.
“It was painted black,” Bess explained, “but I recognized the funny-shaped ink stain on the upholstery in the back seat.”
“Say, that fellow could fit the description of the car thief,” George spoke up. “I wish we had noticed the license number.”
Nancy turned the corner and as she continued down the street, the other two girls looked in every driveway and crossroad. But their quarry was not in sight.
After they had gone nearly a mile, Nancy stopped. “The thief had too much of a head start,” she said. “Let’s go back to police headquarters and report this.”
As she was about to turn the car around, the girls saw a black convertible dart from an intersecting road some distance ahead and shoot down the highway.
“There he is!” Bess cried out.
Nancy set off in pursuit, but at the crossing was stopped by a red light. Irked by the delay, she put on extra power as soon as the traffic light turned green. The other vehicle was far ahead, but Nancy sped after it.
Suddenly George said, “Oh, oh!” as a motorcycle came roaring up behind them. In a moment it was alongside and the state trooper astride it motioned Nancy to the side of the road.
“Young lady,” he said sternly, “don’t you know what the speed limit here is?”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Nancy replied, “but we’re after a thief who stole another car of mine.”
“Another car of yours?” The officer looked skeptical. “What kind of story is this?”
“It’s true!” Bess spoke up earnestly. “Please help us catch the man who stole it.”
“Well, okay. Follow me,” the police officer directed.
By this time the black car was out of sight, but the trooper sped along with Nancy close behind. Two miles of country road were covered without the pursuers getting another glimpse of the suspect.
Finally, the state trooper stopped. He said that he would radio headquarters to set up a roadblock. The girls gave him a brief description of the black car and its driver. Then, taking a two-way radio from his pocket, the officer got in touch with his chief.
When he finished the radio report, the trooper turned to the girls. “Where are you from and where are you going?” he asked.
Nancy answered his questions, then added her theory that the same man might have planted the bomb. That would account for his stopping to look at the yellow convertible.
“We’ll certainly try to find him,” the trooper promised.
Nancy asked that the police get in touch with her father if they located the stolen car.
“And thank you for your help, officer. By the way, is there a short cut from here to Route 57?”
“Yes.” The trooper gave directions and the three girls set off. As they rode along, Bess wore a worried frown.
“Oh, cheer up!” George chided her cousin. “Don’t feel bad because nothing came of your clue.”
“It’s not that,” Bess answered. “Now that we’ve lost the thief, there’s not a ghost of a chance of finding the car again. He knew that we were chasing him. And now he’ll paint the convertible still another color.”
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