The Mysterious Mannequin (2 page)

When she returned to the living room, Hannah Gruen was sitting back on her heels. “I think I’ve found something,” she said. “Look among these vines here. Do you see a word?”

“Offhand, no,” Nancy replied. “It’s like a vine ladder, isn’t it?”

“Turn it sideways,” Hannah suggested.

When she did, Nancy cried out in surprise. Woven in and out of the rungs were several letters. “They spell mannequin!”

Mr. Drew walked into the room just in time to hear Nancy’s exclamation. “Mannequin? We’re to find a mannequin? It must be the one that used to sit in Farouk’s shopwindow.”

“That’s a big order!” Nancy remarked. “We haven’t the least idea where she went to.”

Mr. Drew put an arm around his daughter. “Nancy, I am assigning you the job of locating her.”

“Oh, Dad, what a challenge!” she said, hugging him.

The young detective wondered where to begin. She hoped there were further directions in the rug to give her a clue. As soon as dinner was over, she sat down in the living room with the rug on her lap.

Togo lay beside her. After a while the whole pattern in the rug border became a blur. She had just decided to rest her eyes for a while, when the front doorbell rang. Nancy hastened to the door.

“Hi, Ned!” she said as a handsome, athletic young man walked in. He was Ned Nickerson, who lived in Mapleton, a town a few miles away from River Heights and dated Nancy regularly. He was a student at Emerson College, where he played football, but during his summer vacation he was selling life insurance.

“Hi, Nancy! Any new mysteries since I last saw you?”

“I’m sure you expect me to say no,” she replied with a broad grin, “but I’m going to fool you. I ran into one this afternoon. It’s in the living room.” She led the way inside.

“A mystery? That rug?” he queried.

“Yes. I’ll tell you about it on the way to the airport. We’d better hurry so we won’t be late picking up Burt and Dave.”

Nancy hurried off to tell her father and Hannah that she and Ned were leaving and would bring their friends Bess and George back to the house, together with their two dates.

Ned stopped first at Bess Marvin’s house. The pretty, slightly plump blond climbed into the car. A few moments later they picked up her cousin George Fayne. The slender, dark-haired athletic-looking girl enjoyed her boy’s name, even though many people teased her about it.

“I guess you’ll have to step on it,” George remarked to Ned. “You know how Burt hates to wait.”

Ned drove directly to the far end of the row of airport buildings where passengers from private planes came in. The young people got out of Ned’s car and went into the waiting room. No one was around.

“I wonder if the boys will be on time,” George said. “You’d think there would be some notice on that bulletin board of incoming flights.”

Minutes went by. Ned tried to phone the tower to get information but it did not answer. Restless, the group went outside and paced back and forth, keeping their eyes on the sky. Other private planes came in, but not the one they were looking for. Presently they saw a pilot walking toward them. Ned asked him if he knew anything about the N104TR.

The pilot frowned. “I just heard it’s having trouble with the landing gear. It won’t let down. And they’re low on fuel.”

Nancy and her friends gasped. Fearful, Bess cried out, “Oh, they’ll crash!”

MOMENTS later Nancy and her friends saw a small twin-engine plane circling the airport. Sirens began to wail as a crash truck sped out. The runway that had been assigned the crippled plane was quickly sprayed with foam as a protection against fire.

“Oh, I hope they’ll be all right!” Bess said prayerfully.

Ned was tense as he remarked, “I understand the owner is a very good pilot. All we can do is hope for the best.”

The four young people watched tensely as the plane began its descent. Bess turned her head away and bit her lip.

The plane soared along at what seemed to be just inches above the runway. Seconds later the craft settled down lightly and sent geysers of foam in all directions as it made contact with the ground.

Then gradually yawing to the right it slid sideways to a stop.

“Thank goodness!” George murmured.

Nancy touched Bess. “They’re safe!”

An open truck roared up to the side of the plane to collect the passengers and the pilot. The runway was far too wet with foam for them to walk on. Dave was the first one to emerge and Bess began to laugh and cry all at the same time.

“For Pete’s sake!” her cousin George scolded her. “You’ll look a mess by the time Dave gets here.”

George’s reprimand did the trick. Bess dried her eyes and quickly got out her compact to powder away any telltale tears.

The truck stopped at the building where Nancy and her friends were waiting to let Burt Eddleton and Dave Evans off. Burt was blond and husky; Dave blond but with a rangy build.

Bess was the first one to rush forward. She gave Dave such an overwhelming greeting that he looked embarrassed. George greeted Burt less effusively, but said, “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“I told Hannah I’d call her when you arrived,” Nancy said, “so she can get the snack ball rolling.”

Twenty minutes later they were all seated around a huge table in the cozy kitchen. Mr. Drew appeared and said hello to the visitors. Presently he excused himself and went back upstairs to his study.

Hannah Gruen had prepared one of her midnight specials—toasted ham-and-egg sandwiches over which she had poured a cheese and tomato sauce. Burt and Dave had never had the treat before. Both declared it was one of the best sandwiches they had ever eaten.

“I’ll introduce it to the fellows at Emerson,” Dave told the housekeeper.

“Nancy,” said Burt, “you working on another mystery right now?”

“I’m trying to locate a missing mannequin, believe it or not.”

Dave laughed. “That’s certainly something different. If I recall correctly, you started your detective career hunting for
The Secret of the Old Clock,
and recently we helped you solve the mystery of
The Invisible Intruder.
Boy, that was a tough case!”

Nancy showed her friends the mysterious rug and pointed out the message in it that had been unraveled so far.

“Say, that’s clever!” Dave declared.

“Dad and I,” said Nancy, “are assuming that the man who sent it is a former client of his named Farouk Tahmasp and that he’s now living in Istanbul.”

“Did he weave this himself?” George asked.

“Probably not. I think most of the weavers in Turkey are women. But no doubt Farouk designed it and the weaver wasn’t aware of the message.”

The rug was laid on the living-room floor and the six young people dropped to their knees and searched for further clues in the border. None of them found any and presently Bess began to yawn.

“It’s time to go home,” she said.

The others agreed. As soon as her friends had gone, Nancy turned out the lights and climbed the stairs to her room.

Directly after breakfast the following morning Nancy and Hannah sat down on the living-room floor to study the rug closely. Tracing each leaf, stem, and geometric symbol was tedious work. In half an hour they had examined only two feet of the design. They had found nothing and stood up to stretch.

“Do you think part of the message could be in the flowers in the center section of the rug?” the housekeeper said finally.

“It’s possible,” Nancy replied, “but it would be much harder to disguise it there.” She noticed one place that looked like a pond with tall stemmed water lilies, but found no letters or words in that area.

She and Hannah worked diligently and five minutes later Nancy exclaimed, “I love—”

From the doorway a voice asked, “Me? That’s great!”

Nancy and Hannah looked up to see Ned standing there. As Nancy blushed, Hannah said to him, “How did you get into the house?”

Ned laughed. “Togo let me in. He knows how to unlock the screen door.”

“Well, I’ll have to look into that at once,” said Hannah as she hurried off to inspect both the front and back doors.

Nancy pointed out the words “I love—” in the border of the rug and suggested that Ned try to locate more of the message.

Ned laughed. “You know, Nancy, I get a big bang out of solving part of any mystery before you do. I’m going to try it now.” Painstakingly he studied the leaves, vines, and geometric symbols. All of a sudden he shouted, “I have it!”

“What is it?” Nancy asked.

Proudly Ned said, “The whole sentence reads ‘I love her.’ I suppose he means the mannequin.” Then Ned’s face took on a look of disgust. “He can have her. As for me, I’ll take a live one any time.”

Nancy grinned. “Just the same, I’ll bet you could love a mannequin, too, if it held something valuable.”

“Is that what you suspect?” Ned asked.

Nancy shrugged. “One guess is as good as another.”

Ned stood up. “Now that I’ve solved part of the mystery for you, let’s go! You haven’t forgotten about our trip up the river by motorboat to that unusual bookshop?”

“No indeed,” Nancy answered. “In fact, I’ve been thinking that perhaps I could pick up some interesting books on Turkish rugs.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you a souvenir of your new mystery,” Ned interjected, pulling a cellophane-wrapped package from his pocket.

Hannah, coming back into the room, exclaimed, “Smyrna figs!”

“Only now the city of Smyrna is called Izmir,” Nancy put in.

The housekeeper sighed. “I wish people around the world would stop changing the names of places. I’m getting worn out trying to learn all those new ones. Istanbul was that city’s original name. Then they changed it to Constantinople and I must say I liked that better. Now they’ve switched back to Istanbul. It’s confusing. So much I learned in school has to be unlearned.”

Nancy laughed as she opened the package and passed around the figs. Hannah took hers to the kitchen, saying she would pack a picnic lunch for the couple. She had been gone no more than two minutes when Nancy and Ned heard her cry out.

“I wonder what happened,” said Nancy. She dashed toward the kitchen, with Ned at her heels.

They found Hannah holding one hand over the sink. Blood was dripping from a badly cut finger. She was about to put it under the cold water.

“Stupid of me!” she said. “I was trying to slice roast beef with a butcher knife.”

Nancy offered to take care of the wound and rushed off for a first-aid kit. While she was putting on antiseptic and bandaging the housekeeper’s finger, Ned cut thin slices of the roast beef. He and Nancy finished preparing the picnic lunch, then set off in his car for the river.

“It’s early,” Nancy spoke up. “Would you mind going by way of Satcher Street so I can drop into the shop Farouk used to have? Maybe the tailor who is there now knows what became of the mannequin.”

Ned stopped in front of Anthony’s Tailor Shop and Nancy hurried inside.

“Good morning,” she said. “I’m trying to find a mannequin that used to be in the window here.”

The tailor merely shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “Speak only little English,” he said with an Italian accent. “I not understand.”

Just then a high squeaky laugh came from a dark corner of the shop. Nancy turned and for the first time noticed a wizened-looking old man seated cross-legged on a bench.

As she looked at him, he began to laugh uproariously, slapping his thigh and rocking back and forth.

In a high-pitched voice he said, “You lookin’ for Farouk’s mannequin? Who do you think you’re kiddin’?”

PUZZLED but intrigued by the strange old man in the tailor shop, Nancy walked toward him.

“Why are you laughing?” she asked. “Didn’t the mannequin that used to be in the window belong to Farouk Tahmasp?”

Instead of replying the wizened man pulled up his legs, held his knees in both hands, and rocked in this position without saying a word. But he continued to haw-haw.

Nancy was exasperated but tried hard not to show it. “You knew the rug dealer Farouk, didn’t you?” she inquired.

The old fellow did not answer but continued his uproarious laughter. Nancy concluded he must be senile and probably she never could learn the truth from him. And perhaps he did not know the answers.

She walked back toward the tailor who sat staring in amazement, a needle raised in his right hand. Finally he brought down his arm and went on mending a man’s coat he held on his lap.

Nancy asked him slowly, “Who owns this building?”

As the man looked at her helplessly, she said, “You pay rent to somebody for your shop, don’t you?”

This time the tailor understood. He smiled in a friendly way and replied, “Curtis Realty Company. Around the corner.” He pointed toward a side street.

Nancy thanked him. She decided that at the first opportunity she would go there and find out if anyone at Curtis knew what had become of the mannequin.

“Any luck?” Ned asked as she got into the car.

Nancy shook her head and told about the funny old man and his strange remark. She and Ned tried to figure out what he had meant but were unable to make any sense out of it.

“I think,” said Ned, “he’s a kook. Let’s forget him.”

The couple discussed the other aspects of the mystery until they reached the dock. There they boarded a sleek speedboat which was owned by a friend of Ned’s.

“What a beauty!” Nancy remarked.

“Yes, she’s pretty cool.”

Ned gave the engine full power and it raced along so fast the nose lifted out of the water. The wind blew Nancy’s hair out straight in back of her.