Chapter 11 The Clue in the Diary by Carolyn Keene
Lost in the Crowd
“Joe Swenson!” Bess and George exclaimed simultaneously. “Where?”
“He’s crossing the highway!” Nancy pointed. “The man with the blue shirt. Don’t take your eyes off him for a second! We must keep him in sight!”
The cars ahead had started to move again and Nancy turned her attention to driving, while Bess and George watched Joe Swenson. They kept close behind him for nearly a block, then George called out that he had turned a corner.
Nancy stopped for a red traffic light, and when she finally turned into the side street, the man was a considerable distance ahead.
“He’s walking fast,” Bess observed. “We’ll lose him if we aren’t careful.”
The street was crooked and narrow. Children were playing ball and Nancy was forced to drive with extra caution.
Joe Swenson turned into another street, narrower than the first and rather dingy. Nancy rapidly drew nearer to him, only to lose him again as he cut through an alley.
“Does he know we’re following him?” Bess wondered.
“I don’t think so,” Nancy answered. “We’ll catch him at the next street. I can see where the alley ends.”
Rubbish, tin cans, and boxes littered the alley, and she did not care to risk a punctured tire. Turning the car, she retraced her route, rounded the block, and reached the opposite end of the alley in time to see Joe Swenson heading toward one of the main streets of Stanford.
“We have him now,” Nancy said confidently.
Scarcely had she spoken when the girls noticed that the block directly ahead had been roped off. The sidewalks were lined with pedestrians, and policemen were turning automobiles into side streets.
“What’s this?” Nancy asked impatiently.
“It must be the parade,” George declared. “And there goes Joe Swenson, heading that way!”
“We’ll lose him sure!” Nancy groaned.
True to her prediction, the man melted into the crowd. A policeman motioned for Nancy to turn to the right and she had no choice but to comply. At the first opportunity she parked the car and the girls ran back.
In vain they searched through the throngs of people watching the parade. Joe Swenson had disappeared.
“If that isn’t a mean break!” Bess fretted.
“I admit it’s hopeless,” Nancy said slowly. “The best thing to do is come back tomorrow and try to find him.”
The girls returned to the car. As they headed for River Heights, George said, “If Joe Swenson works at the Weston plant, why wasn’t his name on the personnel records?”
“Maybe we were mistaken, after all,” Bess said.
Nancy did not reply for nearly a minute, then she declared, “Girls, I have a hunch.”
“About what?” George asked.
“That Joe Swenson works at the factory, all right.”
“But they said nobody by that name was there,” Bess objected.
Nancy smiled. “For reasons of his own, he could be using another name.”
“Like what?” George spoke up.
“Dahl,” Nancy answered.
“His mother’s maiden name!” Bess declared. “Oh, Nancy, you’re a genius!”
“Better not praise me until I’ve proved my hunch right,” Nancy cautioned.
“Will you phone Mr. Weston and ask him?”
“No, Bess. I want to talk to Joe Swenson without his suspecting anything. If he’s using an assumed name, it may be because he’s hiding something. Suppose he finds out someone has been inquiring for him? He may run away.”
“You’re right,” George agreed.
Reluctantly the girls rode back to River Heights. “See you tomorrow,” Nancy told Bess and George as she stopped at their homes. Upon reaching the Drew house, she found Hannah Gruen awaiting her with a message.
“Ned Nickerson has phoned you five times, Nancy,” Hannah said with a smile. “It seems that he wants to invite you to a dinner dance. One of his fraternity brothers is giving it—on the spur of the moment—tonight. Ned would like you to call. I have the number.”
Nancy’s heart was already pounding with excitement as she dialed. Of course she would accept!
“Great!” said Ned. “I was about to give up hope. Can you be ready in an hour?”
“I’ll do my best,” Nancy replied.
Singing a gay tune, Nancy quickly disrobed, jumped under a shower, and was dressed in three-quarters of an hour.
“You look lovely, Nancy,” Mrs. Gruen complimented her.
“Oh, thank you.” Nancy surveyed herself in a long mirror. The pale-green chiffon dress was very becoming, and the gold evening shoes she wore set it off to advantage.
Still humming gaily, Nancy went downstairs holding her white wrap. Ned arrived in a few minutes and they drove off in his car. At first conversation was in a light vein, then Ned asked if Nancy had located the Raybolt arsonist yet.
“No. How about you?”
Ned replied, “All I know is what I read in the papers—first, that Mrs. Raybolt remains in a state bordering on collapse. She’s firmly convinced her husband lost his life in the fire.”
“The police and fire investigators don’t think so,” Nancy remarked.
“I do have one interesting piece of news. The police are busy working on a new angle. A clue, which they’re withholding from the public, is expected to bring about the arrest of the criminal within a day or two.”
“Is it possible that the police suspect Joe Swenson?” Nancy asked herself aloud. “If they arrest him, it will ruin all my plans for trying to help his family!”
“You’re being very mysterious,” Ned complained good-naturedly. “Why would the police suspect Mr. Swenson? How about letting me in on the secret?”
Nancy laughed. “Maybe you shouldn’t beg too hard, Ned. You may find yourself being called upon to do all kinds of outlandish sleuthing jobs.”
“I’m at your service,” Ned replied quickly.
Little by little, Nancy told him the details. When she had finished, Ned said, “You’ve certainly done some terrific detective work! Well, good luck tomorrow. Wish I could be with you, but I’m slated to go on an all-day trip with my dad.”
Nancy and Ned reached the home of his fraternity brother. Sounds of popular songs being sung in harmony by the guests drifted out. Laughingly, the couple hastened their steps.
All the boys and girls were strangers to Nancy, but she liked them at once. She found them intelligent and full of fun, and they quickly made her feel as if she had always been part of the group.
At the long dinner table the boy on her right, Phil Roberts, proved to be very entertaining. He told several amusing and true stories about strange letters which had come to the attention of the post office.
“Where did you hear about these letters?” Nancy asked him, after the laughter had subsided.
“Oh, my father’s the Stanford postmaster,” Phil explained. “He told me.”
Immediately Nancy wondered if Phil could have heard anything to shed light on the reason why Mrs. Swenson was not receiving mail from her husband. It took Nancy nearly five minutes to formulate a diplomatic question.
Finally she said, “If someone’s mail isn’t being delivered, what could be the reason?”
Phil smiled. “Two that I can think of. First, no one is writing to the person, and second, his mail is being stolen.” Suddenly he looked intently at Nancy. “What made you ask me that question?”
“Because I know someone who should be getting mail but isn’t. If there were money or checks in the letters, a thief might steal them.”
“A certain kind of thief would. Say, Nancy, I’m going to tell you something—it’s kind of confidential—but I think it might help your friend.”
Nancy listened intently for the secret she was about to hear.