Chapter 2 The Secret of the Old Clock by Carolyn Keene
A Missing Will
The blue convertible sped along the country road. Nancy smiled grimly.
“I’m afraid I’m exceeding the speed limit,” she thought. “But I almost wish a trooper would stop me. Then I could tell him what happened to the poor Turner sisters.”
Nancy watched the tire marks which the van driven by the thieves had evidently made in the dirt road. But a few miles farther on a feeling of dismay came over her. She had reached a V-shaped intersection of two highways. Both roads were paved, and since no tire impressions could be seen, Nancy did not know which highway the thieves had taken.
“Oh dear!” she sighed. “Now what shall I do?”
Nancy concluded that her wisest move would be to take the road which led to River Heights. There was a State Police barracks just a few miles ahead.
“I’ll stop there and report the theft.”
She kept looking for the van, which she recalled as charcoal gray. “I wish I’d seen the license number or the name of the firm that owns the van,” Nancy said to herself ruefully.
When she reached State Police headquarters Nancy introduced herself to Captain Runcie and told about the robbery, giving what meager information she could about the suspects. The officer promised to send out an alarm immediately for the thieves and their charcoal-gray moving van.
Nancy continued her journey home, thinking of the Turners and their problems.
“I wonder why Mr. Josiah Crowley left all his money to the Tophams and none to his other relatives. Why did he change his mind? Those Tophams are well to do and don’t need money as much as the Turners.”
Nancy did not know Richard Topham, but she was acquainted with his wife, as well as his daughters. They were arrogant and unreasonable, and disliked by many of the shopkeepers in town. Ada and Isabel had been unpopular in high school. They had talked incessantly of money and social position, making themselves very obnoxious to the other students.
“I wonder,” Nancy thought, “if a way can’t be found so the Turners could get a share of the Crowley money. I’ll ask Dad.”
Five minutes later Nancy pulled into the double garage and hurried across the lawn to the kitchen door of the Drews’ large red-brick house. The building stood well back from the street, and was surrounded by tall, beautiful trees.
“Hello, Nancy,” greeted the pleasant, slightly plump woman who opened the door. She was Hannah Gruen, housekeeper for the Drews, who had helped rear Nancy since the death of the girl’s own mother many years before.
Nancy gave her a hug, then asked, “Dad home? I see his car is in the garage.”
“Your father’s in the living room and dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
Nancy went to say hello to her tall, handsome father, then hurried to wash her hands and comb her hair before the three who formed the Drew household sat down to dinner. During the meal Nancy related her adventure of the afternoon.
“What tricky thieves!” Hannah Gruen burst out. “Oh, I hope the police capture them!”
“They certainly took advantage of those Turner sisters,” Mr. Drew commented.
“Mary and Edna are in financial difficulties,” Nancy commented. “Isn’t it a shame that Josiah Crowley didn’t bequeath some of his estate to the Turners and other relatives who need the money?”
Carson Drew smiled affectionately at his only child, then said, “Yes, it is, Nancy. But unless a will written later turns up, that’s the way it has to be.”
“The Turners think there is another will,” Nancy told him. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if it can be found?”
“I agree,” spoke up Hannah. “It’s well known in town that Mrs. Topham and her daughters were unkind to Josiah Crowley for some time before he died. Their excuse was that Josiah’s eccentricities were extremely trying.”
“The Tophams have never been noted for any charitable inclinations,” Mr. Drew observed with a smile. “However, they did give Josiah a home.”
“Only because they knew he was going to leave all his money to them,” said Hannah. “If I’d been Josiah I wouldn’t have stayed there.” The housekeeper sighed. “But when people get old, they don’t like change. And probably he put up with things rather than move.”
She said the treatment the Tophams had accorded old Josiah Crowley had aroused a great deal of unfavorable comment throughout River Heights. Nancy had not known him personally, but she had often seen the elderly man on the street. Secretly she had regarded him as a rather nice, kindly person.
His wife had died during an influenza epidemic and after that he had made his home with various relatives. According to rumors, all these people had admitted that he had paid his board and done many favors for them. They in turn had been very kind to him, and though poor themselves, had tried to make Josiah Crowley comfortable and happy.
“Tell me everything you know about Mr. Crowley,” Nancy urged her father.
The lawyer said that the old man had publicly declared he intended to provide in his will for several deserving relatives and friends. Then, three years before his death, the Topham family, who had never shown an interest in him, had experienced a sudden change of heart. They had begged Josiah Crowley to make his home with them, and at last he had consented. Shortly after he moved into the Topham house, Mr. Drew was told that the old man had decided to leave all his money to them.
Mr. Crowley, though failing in health, maintained a firm grip on life. But as time went on, he became more and more unhappy. He continued to live with the Tophams, but it was whispered about that he frequently slipped away to visit his other relatives and friends, and that he intended to change his will again.
“Then there must be a later will!” Nancy said hopefully.
Mr. Drew nodded, and went on, “One day Josiah Crowley became critically ill. Just before his death he attempted to communicate something to the doctor who attended him, but his words, other than ‘will,’ were unintelligible. After the funeral only one will came to light, giving the entire fortune to the Tophams.”
“Dad, do you suppose Mr. Crowley was trying to tell the doctor something about another will which he had put some place where the Tophams couldn’t find it?” Nancy asked.
“Very likely,” the lawyer replied. “Probably he intended to leave his money to relatives who had been kind to him. But fate cheated him of the opportunity.”
“Do you think anybody has looked for another will?” Nancy questioned.
“I don’t know. But I’m sure of this. If another will shows up, Richard Topham will fight it. The estate is a considerable one, I understand, and they aren’t the kind of people to share good fortune.”
“Can’t the present will be contested?” Nancy asked.
“I hear that other relatives have filed a claim, declaring they were told another will had been made in their favor. But unless it is located, I doubt that the matter will ever go further.”
“But the Tophams don’t deserve the fortune,” Hannah Gruen remarked. “And besides, they don’t need the money. It doesn’t seem fair.”
“It may not seem fair, but it is legal,” Mr. Drew told her, “and I’m afraid nothing can be done about the situation.”
“Poor Judy and her aunts!” said Nancy.
“There are others affected in the same way,” her father remarked. “For instance, two young women who live on the River Road. I don’t know their names. I understand they were not related to Mr. Crowley, but were great favorites of his. They are having a struggle and could use some extra money.”
Nancy lapsed into silence. She felt strongly that a mystery lurked behind the Crowley case.
“Dad, don’t you believe Josiah Crowley made a second will?” Nancy questioned suddenly.
“You sound like a trial lawyer, the way you cross-examine me,” Mr. Drew protested, but with evident enjoyment. “To tell the truth, Nancy, I don’t know what to think, but something did happen which might indicate that Mr. Crowley at least intended to make another will.”
“Please go on!” Nancy begged impatiently.
“Well, one day nearly a year ago I was in the First National Bank when Crowley came in with Henry Rolsted.”
“The attorney who specializes in wills and other estate matters?” Nancy inquired.
“Yes. I had no intention of listening to their conversation, but I couldn’t help overhearing a few words that made me think they were discussing a will. Crowley made an appointment to call at Rolsted’s office the following day.”
“Oh!” cried Nancy excitedly. “That looks as though Mr. Crowley had made a new will, doesn’t it? But why didn’t Mr. Rolsted say something about it at the time of Mr. Crowley’s death?”
“For one of many reasons,” Mr. Drew replied. “In the first place, he may never have drawn a new will for Mr. Crowley. And even if he had, the old man might have changed his mind again and torn it up.”
Before Nancy spoke again, she finished the delicious apple pudding which Hannah had made. Then she looked thoughtfully at her father. “Dad, Mr. Rolsted is an old friend of yours, isn’t he?”
“Yes. An old friend and college classmate.”
“Then won’t you please ask him if he ever drew up a will for Mr. Crowley, or knows anything that might solve this mystery?”
“That’s a rather delicate question, young lady. He may tell me it’s none of my business!”
“You know he won’t. You’re such good friends he’ll understand why you’re taking a special interest in this case. Will you do it? Please!”
“I know you like to help people who are in trouble,” her father said. “I suppose I could invite Mr. Rolsted to have lunch with me tomorrow—”
“Wonderful!” Nancy interrupted eagerly. “That would be a splendid opportunity to find out what he knows about a later will.”
“All right. I’ll try to arrange a date. How about joining us?”
Nancy’s face lighted up as she said, “Oh, thank you, Dad. I’d love to. I hope it can be tomorrow, so we won’t have to waste any time trying to find another will.”
Mr. Drew smiled. “We?” he said. “You mean you might try to find a hidden will if Mr. Crowley wrote one?”
“I might.” Nancy’s eyes sparkled in anticipation.