The Mysterious Mannequin (13 page)

The airport was out of town, but as they approached the city, both guides pointed out a mammoth circular wall. “That encompassed the old city,” Aisha told the girls.

Soon they came to a bridge which was named for Ataturk, Turkey’s first president, and crossed the narrow stretch of water called the Golden Horn that connected with the Bosporus Strait.

There were so many things to see Nancy craned her neck this way and that so as not to miss anything. Since it was noon hour, the streets were crowded with businessmen, shoppers, and foreign visitors.

“I notice there is a preponderance of men,” Nancy remarked. “Also that some of the peasant women wear traditional long black skirts and head scarves drawn over their faces.”

Aisha said that while Turkey is now western in its thinking, and has adopted the clothes, and business and banking methods of Europe, many of the old customs remain.

“One of these is that married women stay in their homes a great part of the time. Later on you will probably see some of them in the mosques. They usually come in groups.”

Aisha directed their driver to two estates on the outskirts of the city. The taxi carrying their companions pulled up behind. Mr. Hatun got out and went inside with Mr. Drew and the boys. He returned in a few minutes and his taxi followed the other.

Presently they entered a gateway which was part of a highly ornamented iron fence. They went past lovely gardens with a profusion of roses and finally came to a large house. The architecture was like that of old Greece—an oblong building of smooth stone fronted with many columns.

The group got out. Aisha and her mother led the way to the massive front door. They used the knocker once and the door was opened by a servant wearing a traditional Turkish uniform. He bowed low.

As the man walked off to announce the new-comers to his master and mistress, Bess grabbed Nancy’s hand and whispered, “Oh, isn’t it romantic! I’m so glad we didn’t have to go to a hotel!”

In a few minutes their host and his wife came in. They were wearing simple Western-style daytime clothes. Aisha introduced them as Mr. and Mrs. Hrozny, old friends.

The couple shook hands and apologized for not speaking English very well. Mr. Hrozny said, “We are happy to have you come. We hope you will enjoy your visit.” His eyes twinkled. “Which is the young lady with the mystery?”

Aisha presented Nancy. Then in turn she introduced Bess and George.

After the visitors had freshened up, they enjoyed a delicious luncheon. It consisted of rice sprinkled with bits of lamb and served with a curry sauce. This was followed by small bowls of fruit with grapes, figs, and dates. A pink custard sauce had been poured over the fruit.

A short time later, Mr. and Mrs. Hatun said they must start for home. When they had driven off, Aisha said, “Mr. and Mrs. Hrozny have engaged a small bus to take all of us sightseeing. As soon as you girls are ready, we will pick up the boys and start our tour.”

She smiled. “I suppose the biggest clue to finding Farouk is the shoeshine stand. I do not know exactly where any are but we’ll look around the bazaars.”

The bus driver was young and very handsome. Bess whispered to George and Nancy, “This place is so full of good-looking men, it’s fortunate I have a date of my own or I’d be tempted to accept an invitation from one of these Turkish boys.”

“Better not let Dave hear you say that,” George advised. “Unless you pick out a
man-
nequin.” The others giggled.

They picked up the boys at the Kokten home and started their tour. Mr. Drew went off to call on a law school acquaintance. The sightseers crossed the Ataturk Bridge once more and went directly to one of the mosques.

“This is called the Suleymaniye Mosque,” Aisha said. “We will not go inside, but I brought you here to show you something I’m sure you have never seen in your country. The Koran states that anyone entering the mosque must have clean feet. There are several places outside the building for foot bathing.”

There was a parklike area at one side of the building. In it stood a small circular section depressed below the ground. There was a ledge all the way around for men to sit on. Below the ledge were faucets of water. Farther on, hugging the side of the mosque was a row of faucets with benches to sit on and bathe one’s feet. Nearly all of them were filled.

“Now all these men will go inside and pray,” Aisha said. “You know Moslems pray five times a day.”

The visitors left the park and the bus took them to the outskirts of the Grand Bazaar. Aisha ex plained that the shops in it paid rent to the Blue Mosque. Excitedly the group walked toward the huge conglomerate of shops under one vast roof. Just before entering it, Nancy grabbed Ned’s arm.

“A shoeshine stand!”

In front of a building stood the ornate object with colorful tile insets depicting old-time scenes. Apparently they had been taken from Turkish legend and were framed in a rectangle of gold. On either side of it were golden winglike projections that glistened in the sun.

The shoeshine man sat behind it cross-legged. He smiled at the group. On impulse Nancy decided to ask him if he spoke English. If so, she would inquire if he knew Mr. Farouk Tahmasp.

As she approached the shoeshine man, he stood up, waved his arms wildly, and cried out,
“Yok! Yok!”’

Nancy was puzzled. She asked Aisha what
Yok
meant and was told, “an emphatic no.” The Turkish girl spoke to the man, then translated. “He thinks you want to have your shoes shined, but says he never shines a woman’s shoes on her feet.”

The young people smiled at the misunderstanding and Nancy said, “I don’t want my shoes shined. I was merely going to ask if he knows Farouk.”

The shoeshine man said he had never served nor heard of Farouk Tahmasp. While they were talking, George noticed a young man running toward them.

She turned to the Turkish girl and asked, “Aisha, is this Farouk coming?”

The girl looked. For a few seconds she did not reply. The others watched tensely. Finally the man drew closer and Aisha shook her head. A look of disappointment crossed her face.

Bess put an arm over the girl’s shoulders. “Cheer up, Aisha,” she said. “We’ll find him yet.”

The Turkish girl said nothing and led the way into the bazaar. The din was deafening! Bells jangled. Hawkers called out their wares, ranging from copper cooking utensils to leather luggage. Crowds of people, mostly Turkish men and tourists, milled along the narrow streets. Dogs roamed at will. The whole area was well-lighted by unshaded electric bulbs in many of the open-front shops, particularly where men were urging passers-by to purchase their jewelry. There were markets with cuts of lamb and dried fish hanging up, and bakeries with baklava and other pastries.

The travelers rambled on. They decided to keep close together, because there were so many people coming and going that one could easily become separated from the group. But every now and then one of them would pause to look at the various articles for sale and would have to catch up with the others.

Aisha became concerned and requested that all of them stay with the group. After walking several blocks, she came to a halt.

“You say in your country you count noses,” she said, smiling. “I will now count your noses.”

Bess was not with them.

“Did anyone see her?” Dave asked, worried.

“Not lately,” they all admitted.

Dave said nervously, “She was right alongside me back there a little ways. I’ll go and look for her.”

“We will all go,” said Aisha.

They peered into every shop as they retraced their steps. Bess was not in any of them nor was she on the street. Her friends became genuinely alarmed.

ABOUT fifteen minutes before the search for Bess had begun, she had been intrigued by a perfume shop on a street corner in the bazaar.

The owner peered from the doorway at her. “Come in, lady,” he invited. “I give you free sam ple.”

As a mixture of delightful scents drifted outside, Bess said to herself, “The place smells heav enly. If his perfumes are this good, I really should buy some to take home.”

She stepped inside. There were shelves on three sides of the room filled with large bottles. On a counter stood dozens of small glass flacons encased in gold filigree.

“You pick,” the man said to Bess. “I put perfume in bottle.”

He took down several of the large jars and with a long glass rod began to daub various scents on Bess’s arms.

“Which you like?” the shopkeeper asked.

Many of the scents smelled like spices mixed with flowers. Bess liked them all and could not make up her mind which one to buy.

“They’re all lovely,” she said, sniffing at one bottle, then another.

Meanwhile the man reached under the counter and brought out a midget-sized bottle of perfume. He handed it to Bess. “My compliments to lady from the United States,” he said, bowing. “You will like.”

Bess giggled as she thanked him. “And I think I will buy this scent,” she said, pointing to an area on one arm just below her elbow.

“Very good taste,” the perfume dealer remarked. “Very good indeed.”

For the first time Bess became aware of the man’s looks. He was tall and slender and had very white skin. He wore a tiny mustache and his hair was dark and wavy.

“You are Turkish?” she asked.

The shopkeeper smiled. “I am half Turkish, half French. My father—he is perfume maker in France. I learned from him.”

“Do you make all these kinds yourself?” Bess inquired.

“Yes.”

He poured out the scent Bess had chosen into a gold filigree bottle. Before he finished, a boy of about seventeen came into the shop. He addressed himself to Bess.

“Pardon, mademoiselle. I was sent to tell you your party is waiting.”

“Oh, thank you,” said Bess. She told the perfume dealer she would be back to buy more perfume, paid for her purchase, and started from the shop.

“I show you where your party is,” the boy said.

For the first time Bess realized she had been in the perfume store for some time. Presently her escort pointed up a side street. “Your party in shop there. Come!”

Bess hurried along after him. It seemed like a long way up the covered street of the bazaar. Finally he stopped before a display of Turkish rugs behind an iron grillwork.

Suddenly Bess became suspicious. She did not see her friends anywhere.

The boy must have guessed her thoughts because he said, “Your party look at pictures in back room and talk to man.”

Bess craned her neck and thought she saw George’s back. It occurred to her that Nancy had investigated the rug shop and perhaps had found Farouk! As she stepped into the outer room of the shop, her escort slammed the iron grating doorway shut and locked it. Grabbing the key, he called to someone in the rear room in Turkish.

Bess was terrified. She wanted to scream but not a sound came from her throat. She had been deliberately trapped. But why? And who was in back of it?

A moment later she found out. A young man came to the outer room. He looked at Bess, gave a low sardonic chuckle, then said, “You are here because you are friend of Nancy Drew. You will be prisoner of my family until I get treasure hidden inside the mannequin belonging to Farouk Tahmasp.”

Bess was shaking like a leaf but she managed to stutter, “I—I don’t know anything about a treasure and we didn’t find the mannequin. What do you want with me?”

The man stared at Bess a long time as if he did not know whether to believe her or not. Finally he shrugged. “It does not matter. You will stay here until I get it!”

Bess was in a panic. She must escape. But how?

Just then a woman appeared and escorted her into the rear room. The only other person there was a little girl of about ten, who evidently was her child. On a table in one corner stood a telephone. The older man pointed to it.

“Telephone Nancy Drew and tell her to meet you at the big hotel on the hill.”

Bess’s heart leaped with joy. She figured that the man had had a change of heart and soon would let her go free since she did not know where the mannequin or the treasure was.

“Say nothing more than what I told you,” the man directed.

He handed Bess a telephone book and after a struggle she found the number of the Hrozny house. She pointed it out to the man who put in the call. As soon as someone answered, he motioned to Bess to reply.

To her delight Dave was on the other end. If only she could tell him what had happened! But she did not dare. She gave him the message exactly as she had been told.

“Where are you? What happened?” Dave replied in bewilderment. “I’ve been worried about you.”