Chapter 12 The Mystery at Lilac Inn by Carolyn Keene
A Daring Plan
Bang! The rock struck the door of Nancy’s convertible, just as she ducked down. When Nancy cautiously raised her head a few seconds later, she looked all around to see if she could spot the rock thrower. No one was in sight.
Nancy glanced into the rear-view mirror again. The red truck had disappeared! Had the truck driver thrown the rock? If it had struck her, she would have been badly injured. A peculiar coincidence, at the least, Nancy thought.
Quickly Nancy climbed out and examined her car door. The rock had made a dent, but there was no further damage. She determined to continue her search for Mary Mason, and hailed a grocer’s delivery truck which was coming down the street. When she asked the driver if he had seen the red truck, the man said No.
“Do you know where I might find someone here by the name of Mason?” Nancy inquired.
“Yes. Bud Mason. He lives in the next block, on Sixth Street,” the man replied. “I’ve made deliveries there. It’s number 12.”
Nancy thanked him. She drove along the river, and turned left on Sixth Street. The houses here were in better condition than the others she had seen in Dockville. Number twelve was a white cottage with flowers bordering the front path.
When Nancy rang the bell, the door was opened by a red-haired woman of about thirty-five. She had clear-cut features and wore heavy make-up. She wore a snug-fitting lavender dress.
Nancy introduced herself and said she was looking for a Miss Mary Mason who had worked at Lilac Inn.
“You’ve come to the right address,” the woman replied. “I’m Mary. Come in.”
“Thank you.” Nancy entered a room furnished with comfortable leather furniture, books, and several pictures of nautical scenes.
The woman eyed her caller curiously. She invited Nancy to sit down and asked, “What brings you here?”
Nancy explained that she was a friend of Emily Willoughby and was visiting at Lilac Inn.
“Miss Willoughby tells me you left because the inn was haunted,” Nancy went on. “Since then, she’s been wondering what you meant. I said I’d try to find you and ask.”
Mary had listened attentively. Now she gave a high-pitched giggle. “So Miss Willoughby’s getting scared. It’s true—Lilac Inn is haunted!”
Mary proceeded to give Nancy a dramatic story of hearing footsteps at night when no one was around. She said that several times when she had been working late in the kitchen, a ghostly face had looked in the window.
“It’s a spooky old place!” Mary shuddered. “I don’t know how I stood it—the grounds are so lonely and creepy at night. Besides, commuting to my brother’s here was too long a trip.”
Nancy wondered if she were on the wrong track, after all. Perhaps Mary had left because of fright, and had wanted merely to find work closer to town.
The young sleuth looked around. “This is a pleasant home,” she said. “Have you always lived with your brother?”
Mary answered readily, “No, just since I returned to Dockville, two months ago. I worked down South during the winter, and before that, out West. I hadn’t seen Bud for a couple of years. When I came back here, he suggested I get a job nearby.”
She paused. “Say, Miss Drew, how did you know I was in Dockville?”
Nancy explained about her call on Mrs. Stonewell.
Mary scowled. “That fuss-budget wanted a slave, not a maid. I was glad when she fired me.”
Mary went on to say that after she left Lilac Inn, she had stayed here. “I’m keeping house for Bud until I find a really good deal.”
“Oh—by the way,” Nancy said casually, “the other day I found a note to the gardeners. I understand you printed it.”
For a fraction of a second Nancy was sure she detected a startled look on Mary’s face. Then the former waitress laughed heartily. “Oh, Miss Drew, isn’t that funny you should have found that?”
“Then you knew lilacs are called ‘blue pipes’?” Nancy asked. “And what in the world did the message mean?”
After a short pause, Mary answered, “I don’t know. Someone asked me to write it.”
“Who?”
“I don’t remember his name. I wasn’t there long, you know.”
Nancy went through the list of names of the gardeners, but Mary still insisted she did not remember who had asked her to print the message.
“Another thing,” said Nancy. “I phoned this house the other day and was told no Mary Mason who had worked at Lilac Inn was here.”
Mary Mason flushed. “I don’t know who answered the phone. Around here nobody calls me Mary. That’s my business name. I’m Dotty Mae. My full name is Dorothy Mary.”
“I see,” said Nancy. “Sorry.”
Mary stood up. “Hate to rush you, Miss Drew. But I’m er—expecting company.”
She accompanied Nancy to the door. The young sleuth said good-by and went to her car. She started the engine, glancing surreptitiously at the Masons’ cottage. Nancy plainly saw the window curtain move, as if someone were standing behind it, watching her.
As she drove away, Nancy reviewed the conversation. Mary Mason had seemed quite friendly, and sometimes a bit flighty. Nancy reflected that Mary’s explanation of the “blue pipes” note sounded logical, but that the woman’s whole story had been overly glib. She had, Nancy felt, not been entirely truthful.
“Why didn’t she want to tell me who asked her to write the note about ‘blue pipes’?” Nancy’s hands gripped the wheel hard as a startling idea occurred to her. “She’s shielding someone.”
“Blue pipes” was being used as a signal—perhaps between persons at Lilac Inn and an outside accomplice. Were Mary Mason and a gardener two of them? And could Maud possibly be a third member of the group? Were they responsible for the diamond theft?
“They’re all familiar with the place,” Nancy reasoned, “and might have learned of the secret closet.”
If this were the case, she speculated, the three might have other assistants. “For instance,” Nancy thought, “the woman who bumped into me in Benton, whoever put the diamond in my purse, and the person who placed the bomb in our cottage.”
Nancy felt excitedly that her theory was worth following. She decided to return home and see if her father were there.
When Nancy arrived she was delighted to find Carson Drew at the desk in his study. The lawyer went over the whole case with his daughter, then shook his head in amazement. “This is a many-sided case you’ve tackled,” he remarked. “I’m inclined to agree that the mysteries at Lilac Inn and your impersonator are linked together, and that ‘blue pipes’ is a signal of some kind.”
Mr. Drew leaned forward in his chair. “Of course,” he said, “Emily should report her entire story to the police. If Maud Potter does hold a threat over Mrs. Willoughby, she’ll be dealt with by the law.
“Frankly I’m more alarmed about the spear throwing and time bomb than any other angle to the case, Nancy,” Mr. Drew said somberly. “You and Helen are in constant danger.”
Nancy said she realized this. “I’ll be on my guard every minute,” she promised. “And keep my eyes and ears open for any more ‘blue pipe’ messages.”
The young detective went across the room to hug her father. “Dad, it’s so helpful to talk everything over with you.”
Mr. Drew looked at his daughter keenly. “There’s something else on your mind. Want to tell me?”
He had observed a troubled expression come over Nancy’s pretty features. Now she replied, “Yes. Dad, what’s your impression of Sergeant John McBride?”
“I think he’s a fine, intelligent young man,” Mr. Drew said. “And seems to be quite taken with you,” he teased.
Nancy’s face remained serious. “I like him, too. But—well, Helen has a feeling he’s at the inn for some other purpose than just helping Em and Dick.”
Mr. Drew shook his head. “Nancy, don’t worry. John may have his own reasons for being at Lilac Inn. But I firmly believe he’s not mixed up in any jewel theft!”
With a smile Nancy said, “You’re such a good judge of character. I knew you’d relieve my mind.”
The lawyer then advised his daughter, despite Emily Willoughby’s concern, to phone Chief McGinnis and tell him the whole story.
“He can use his own judgment on how to proceed. Also, he can dismiss the police guard at our home.”
Nancy put in the call and gave the chief a detailed report, including the appearance of the stolen red truck in Dockville.
“I’ll notify the authorities there at once,” he said.
She inquired if there were police records of Dorothy Mary (Dotty Mae) Mason, Maud Potter, or any of the gardeners at Lilac Inn.
“I’ll check.” When the officer returned to the phone, he said, “No, Nancy. Nothing.”
She promised to keep in touch and hung up. The girl’s thoughts spun from subject to subject. Suddenly a daring plan popped into her head. “I’ll try it!” Nancy decided.
Again she picked up the telephone. This time she dialed Lilac Inn. Emily answered.
“I think I’m making progress,” Nancy told her friend. “I may not see you until tomorrow morning. Will you explain to everyone?”
“Of course.” Emily then said happily that Dick had arrived. Her fiancé had learned from the explosives expert that the cottage fire definitely had been caused by a time bomb. The police were still working on the case.
Nancy said good-by, and mentally rehearsed her plan. “I’ve had sleuthing adventures before,” she thought. “But this will be the first time I’ve impersonated a ‘ghost’!”