Chapter 7 The Bungalow Mystery by Carolyn Keene
A Startling Assignment
“Nancy! Nancy! What’s wrong with you?” Hannah cried out, as she tried to hurry to the girl’s side.
As the housekeeper limped toward her, Nancy snapped to attention. “I’m all right, Hannah,” she said. “But Helen’s post card—it brought back the phone call I had this morning—”
Nancy told Mrs. Gruen about the call which had ended so abruptly with a cry of pain. “The caller’s voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it,” she explained. “Now I think I know who it was.”
“Who?” said Hannah.
“Laura Pendleton! I believe someone was trying to stop her from talking to me!”
“Mercy!” Hannah exclaimed, sinking weakly into a soft chair. “Do you think it was one of the Aborns, Nancy? And why would they do such a thing?”
Nancy shrugged. “I’m going to call the Aborn home right now.”
While Hannah listened nervously, Nancy picked up the phone and dialed Information. When the operator replied, Nancy asked for Jacob Aborn’s number.
The operator cut off for a minute, then reported, “I’m sorry, miss, but that number has been temporarily disconnected!”
“Can you tell me when this was done?” Nancy requested tersely.
“I’m sorry. I have no further information.”
Nancy thanked the operator and hung up.
“It sounds suspicious,” Hannah remarked, “but, Nancy, the Aborns may have changed their plans and gone away with Laura for a vacation somewhere else.”
“I know one way to find out,” said Nancy with determination. She reminded Hannah of the young couple, Cathy and Jim Donnell, who had helped move the fallen tree at Melrose Lake.
“I’ll ask them if they’ve seen Laura or the Aborns,” Nancy explained.
Hannah sighed. “You’re just like your father,” she said, “and he certainly is astute. But I’m worried that you’re becoming involved in another complicated mystery.”
Nancy tweaked Hannah’s cheek. “The more there are, the better I like them!”
The housekeeper smiled. She said that while Nancy was calling Cathy and Jim she would put lunch on the table.
“Fine. I’ll help you in a moment.”
As Hannah hobbled to the kitchen, Nancy got the Donnells’ number and dialed it. After two rings a girl’s voice said, “Hello!”
“Cathy?” Nancy inquired.
“Yes.”
Nancy gave her name. “Do you remember me?” she asked.
“Of course,” said Cathy. “My family and I were talking about you just a short while ago. Jim and I told them about the Aborns’ being home and we all went over this morning to say hello and meet Laura. But the house was closed. Nobody’s staying there.”
“Oh!” said Nancy, disappointed. She explained that this was her reason for calling, and told of the Aborns’ telephone having been disconnected.
Cathy already knew this, and added, “Dad found a note on the back porch telling the milkman to discontinue deliveries until further notice.”
“Cathy, does Mr. Aborn own a foreign make of car?” Nancy queried.
“Why, no,” Cathy replied. She added that her parents thought the Aborns might have planned suddenly to take a short trip somewhere. “I’m sure that we’ll hear from them in a few days. If we do, I’ll call you, Nancy.”
“Fine,” said the young detective. “Remember me to Jim. Good-by.”
Deeply troubled, Nancy went to the kitchen and told Hannah what Cathy had said.
“Chances are,” said the housekeeper, “the call you received this morning was not from Laura at all. You know a lot of people, dear.”
Nancy replied that usually when someone had to break a telephone conversation in an abrupt manner the person called back as soon as possible to explain what had happened.
“That’s true,” Hannah admitted. “It’s very strange.”
After lunch Hannah said she was going next door to visit with Mrs. Gleason. Nancy helped her to the neighbor’s front porch. Then Nancy backed her convertible from the garage and headed for Mr. Drew’s downtown office.
“I’ll report my progress so far regarding his suspects.”
Nancy parked the car in a lot adjoining a large building where lawyers, doctors, and other professional people had offices. Mr. Drew’s suite was on the fifth floor. A few minutes later Nancy greeted her father’s secretary, Miss Hanson.
“My, how pretty you look, Nancy!” said the efficient young woman, who had been with Carson Drew for the past five years.
“Thank you.” Nancy blushed a trifle. “You look lovely yourself.”
When the lawyer learned that his daughter had arrived, Carson Drew at once asked Nancy to come into his office.
“I can see by the gleam in your eyes, Nancy, that you have some information for me.”
Nancy told him of her interview with Mrs. Farley. “In my opinion, she’s a woman of very fine character.” Then Nancy mentioned the invitation to the barbecue party at Mr. Herbert Brown’s home.
Mr. Drew raised his eyes and chuckled. “Better than I expected.”
“My main reason for coming was to tell you something else,” Nancy said.
She quickly reviewed the latest developments in the Laura Pendleton case. Mr. Drew listened quietly. Finally he said:
“There’s something odd about all this. Nancy, I must leave River Heights on the three-o’clock plane this afternoon for Cincinnati, but I’ll be home by Sunday. Why don’t we plan to drive to the Aborns’ home later that afternoon and see for ourselves what the story is? They may have returned by then.”
“That’s a grand idea!” Nancy exclaimed. Then, knowing that he was busy, she kissed her father good-by and wished him a successful trip.
“I’ll call you every night at eight!” Mr. Drew promised, and Nancy left the office.
On the way down in the elevator, Nancy asked Hank, the operator, if he knew where Hilo Street was located. Mrs. John Stewart, the third suspect, lived in an apartment at this address.
“I know the general area,” Nancy added. “It’s about three miles from here on the eastern side of the city.”
“That’s right,” Hank said. “It’s a classy neighborhood! All high-priced apartment buildings. I believe Hilo Street runs off East Main.”
Nancy thanked him, then went to her convertible. She drove carefully through the city traffic and finally reached Hilo Street. Mrs. Stewart’s apartment house was Number 76.
Nancy scanned the buildings and found that this one was the largest on the street. It was ultra-modern in design and about twenty stories high. After parking her car, she smoothed her hair and got out.
A red-coated doorman nodded pleasantly to the young detective as she entered the building a minute later. Nancy checked the directory and saw that Mrs. Stewart was in Apartment Three on the fourth floor. She rang the elevator button.
Almost instantly, aluminum doors slid open noiselessly, and Nancy stepped inside the carpeted elevator. It was self-operated, and Nancy pushed the fourth-floor control.
Her heart was pounding with excitement. Would Mrs. Stewart prove to be a link in the embezzlement case? Nancy hoped to find a clue this time!
When the elevator stopped at the fourth floor, Nancy got out and easily located Apartment Three. She pressed the doorbell.
A trim-looking maid, a rather harassed expression on her pretty face, opened the door immediately. “Oh, hello!” she said. “You must be the walker.”
“Why, no—” Nancy began, but before she could explain, the maid went into the living room, leaving the door ajar.
As Nancy, speechless, glanced hastily into the apartment beyond, the maid reappeared. She was leading a pair of frisky black-and-white French poodles by a gold-linked leash.
“Here!” she said abruptly, thrusting the leash into Nancy’s hand. “Their names are Irene and Frederika. Mrs. Stewart says to take them for a nice, long walk!”
Before Nancy could utter a word, the door was closed with an emphatic bang!