Chapter 4 The Bungalow Mystery by Carolyn Keene
The Tree Crash
If Helen was right about Mr. Aborn’s being the driver of the foreign car, then it should be in the hotel parking lot, Nancy thought.
“Let’s take a look,” she suggested.
The girls walked to the rear of the hotel where Nancy had left her own convertible. They scouted the lot. There was no sign of a black foreign car. Helen asked the attendant if one had been driven in that day. The man said no.
Helen was puzzled. “I was so sure I was right.”
“You still could be,” said Nancy. “The car may be parked somewhere else. Mrs. Aborn may have picked up her husband at some other point.”
Puzzled, she and Helen climbed into the convertible and Nancy started the engine. As she drove back to the Pinecrest Motel, Helen remarked:
“I don’t care for either Mr. or Mrs. Aborn. Their friendliness seems forced, and their promises don’t ring true.”
“I agree,” Nancy nodded. “By the way, did you notice how Laura’s guardian went out of his way to tell us she was penniless? And we were total strangers.”
“I certainly did,” Helen replied. “It was in very bad taste, I’d say.”
“As soon as Hannah’s ankle is better,” Nancy declared, “I’m coming back here. Let’s pay Laura a visit together at Melrose Lake. I feel very uneasy about her.”
“A wonderful idea!” Helen exclaimed.
When they reached the motel, she got out. “I hope Hannah’s foot improves quickly,” she said, and waved Nancy out of sight.
A minute later Nancy was on the main highway which paralleled Twin Lakes for some distance. Presently, as she left the lake area, Nancy cast a speculative glance toward the sky. Did she imagine it or was it beginning to cloud over?
Nancy glanced at the speedometer. She was nearly halfway to River Heights. “Maybe I can get home before the storm breaks,” she told herself.
A quarter of a mile farther on Nancy saw an obstruction in the road and brought the convertible to a halt. A huge sign read:
Detour. Bridge out. Take Melrose Lake Road. An arrow pointed to the left.
“Just when I’m in a hurry!” Nancy fumed, knowing she would have to go miles out of her way before reaching the River Heights road.
Another anxious glance at the sky told her there was no time to be lost. Already huge storm clouds were appearing.
“I’ll be caught in another cloudburst like the one on the lake,” she thought.
Hastily she headed the car down the Melrose Lake detour, a narrow, rutty road bordered with tall pines and thick shrubbery. Nancy was forced to reduce her speed to ten miles an hour, and even then it seemed as though the car would shake to pieces.
Within a few minutes it grew so dark that Nancy snapped on the headlights. Giant raindrops began to strike the windshield. In a short time they were followed by a blinding downpour, and the deep ruts in the road filled up like miniature streams.
“I’m in for it now,” Nancy groaned, as the car crept up a hill.
Before she could reach a level stretch on the other side of the hill, the storm broke in all its fury. Trees along the roadside twisted and bent before the onslaughts of the rushing wind.
It was difficult for Nancy to see the road ahead. She crawled along, endeavoring to keep the convertible’s wheels out of deep ruts. As she swerved to avoid a particularly large puddle, a blinding tongue of lightning streaked directly in front of the car.
There was a flash of fire and simultaneously a deafening roar. For an instant, Nancy thought the car had been struck.
Almost blinded, the girl jammed on the brakes in time to hear a splintering, ripping noise. Before her horrified eyes a pine tree fell earthward. The convertible seemed to be directly in its line of fall!
“Oh!” Nancy gasped, as the tree missed her car by inches, landing directly in front of it.
Nancy felt as though she were frozen in her seat. How closely she had escaped possible death! When she was breathing normally again, Nancy ruefully surveyed the tree which blocked the road. What was she to do?
“I can’t go back because the bridge is out,” she told herself. “And there probably isn’t anyone within miles of this place.” She suddenly realized she had not seen another car going in either direction.
As Nancy continued to gaze at the fallen tree, she decided it could be moved by two people.
“Too bad I’m not twins,” she thought. “I wonder how long it will be before someone comes past here.”
Finally Nancy decided to try pulling the tree aside. She reached in the back seat for plastic boots and a raincoat with a hood. After putting these on, she stepped outside.
Gingerly picking her way through the mud and heavy rain, she walked to the fallen pine. She grasped the branches and tugged with all her might. The tree did not budge. Nancy next tried rolling it. This, too, she found was impossible.
“Oh, this is maddening,” she thought, feeling completely frustrated.
As another low roll of thunder broke the quietness of the woods, Nancy was delighted to see headlights approaching. A moment later a small jeep pulled up behind her car.
The driver’s door opened and a young man’s voice said, “Hello there! Having trouble?”
“I sure am,” said Nancy, as he walked toward her and stood outlined in the convertible’s headlights. He appeared to be about seventeen, had dark hair, and twinkling eyes. Quickly Nancy explained about the fallen tree.
“Wow! You were lucky that it missed you!” the boy cried, then added, “It will be easy for the three of us to move the tree.”
“Three?” Nancy questioned.
He laughed. “My sister’s in the jeep,” he explained, then called out, “Come on out, Cath!”
They were joined by a pretty girl, whom Nancy guessed to be fourteen years old. Introductions were exchanged. The brother and sister were Jim and Cathy Donnell. They lived off the next main highway and were returning home from visiting friends.
“I’m glad we came by,” Cathy said. “There’s only one house on this road and the people haven’t moved in yet for the summer.”
After Jim had pulled some tangled pine branches away from the convertible, he and the two girls were able to lift the trunk. Little by little they moved the tree far enough aside so that the cars could drive ahead.
“I’ll report this to the highway patrol when we get home,” said Jim.
“Thanks so much for your help,” Nancy told the brother and sister. “By the way, do you know a Mr. and Mrs. Aborn who live at Melrose Lake?”
“We certainly do,” said Cathy. “They’re the ones whose house is on this route. It’s a lovely place, with a lane leading to the house. You passed it about a mile back. The Aborns just bought the place.”
“It’s a small world,” Nancy observed. She told the Donnells, however, that they were wrong about the Aborns not being at their home, and explained about meeting the couple and Laura Pendleton at Twin Lakes.
“That’s funny,” said Jim. He explained that his parents had known the Aborns for years. “They used to have a place on the other side of the larger lake, and bought this new house only a month ago. They mentioned that Laura Pendleton was coming to visit them, but said they were taking an extensive trip first.”
“I see,” said Nancy, thinking, “Another strange angle to this thing!” Aloud she asked, “Is Mrs. Aborn a blond-haired woman, rather small and slight, Cathy?”
“Yes.”
Jim said that he and Cathy must say good-by. Their parents would be worried if they did not arrive home soon.
“We’ll tell Mother and Dad about the Aborns and Laura,” said Jim. “We’re all keen to meet Laura. The Aborns think she must be tops!”
“And we want to introduce Laura to our friends here at the lake,” Cathy added.
“Grand!” Nancy said enthusiastically. “Laura has had a pretty sad time recently. She needs friends.”
The three said good-by and got into their own cars. As Nancy drove on, she kept mulling over the Aborn-Pendleton enigma. She inferred from the Donnells’ remarks that the man and his wife were very acceptable people. But Nancy certainly had not received this impression of them.
“I can’t wait to meet them again,” she thought, “and see how they’re treating Laura.”
By the time Nancy reached the end of the detour, the storm was over. A little later she turned into the Drews’ driveway and parked near the front porch of the large red-brick house. She climbed from the car and made a dash for the porch with her suitcase.
As she inserted her key in the lock and pushed the front door open, a voice called out from the living room, “Nancy? Is that you?”
“Yes, Hannah. Be right in.”
Nancy took off her raincoat and boots and put them in the vestibule closet. Then she hurried into the living room and hugged the motherly-looking woman, who was reclining on the sofa.
“Hannah! I’m so sorry about your ankle. How are you feeling?”
A worried expression faded from the housekeeper’s face as she said, “I’m fine, now that you’re home. This storm has been dreadful and I was concerned about you being on the road. Helen phoned that you were on your way.”
Nancy told of the fallen tree at Melrose Lake, and how it had taken her longer than she had planned to make the trip.
“Goodness!” the housekeeper exclaimed. Then she smiled. “Nancy, you’re like a cat with nine lives, the way you so often just miss being injured.”
Nancy laughed. Then, becoming serious, she asked, “Where did Dad go?”
“To the state capital,” Hannah replied, “and that reminds me, dear—you’re to call Mr. Drew at eight tonight—” She gave Nancy a slip of paper with a telephone number on it.
“Did he say what he wanted?” Nancy inquired.
A look of concern appeared on Hannah’s face as she said, “Mr. Drew wishes you to help him with an embezzlement case he’s investigating!”