Chapter 16 The Clue of the Dancing Puppet by Carolyn Keene
Aliases
Chuck Grant leaned toward the waiting group. “Tammi Whitlock is my sister!” he startled them by saying.
“Your sister!” George repeated. “Well! That explains a lot of things.”
“What do you mean?” the singer asked quickly.
George was on her guard at once. “Oh, your ability in the arts,” she replied. “And one night we saw you leave with her from our theater.”
“I see,” Chuck answered. Had Nancy imagined it, or did the young man look relieved?
“Where did you pick up the name Chuck Grant?” Ned spoke up.
The singer said that Chuck was a nickname. His family had great objections to his singing with bands in restaurants. “So I took the name Grant.” He chuckled. “When I was a little boy I fell in love with a movie star. Her name was Lola Grant. The name has brought me good luck—here in the East.”
“Did Tammi come here because you did?” Nancy asked him.
“Sort of,” he replied. “I came because a friend of mine lives here, and I stay with him. Tammi’s with our aunt, but that’s too slow for me!”
Bess giggled. “Slow! Even though you work in a place like this?”
Chuck said that the management was very strict, and he was not allowed to make dates with any of the patrons. “So if I weren’t staying with a friend, I probably wouldn’t have met anybody around here or had any fun,” he explained.
Nancy asked him how often he saw Tammi, and he said about once a week. “To tell you the truth,” he confessed, “my sister and I don’t agree on a lot of things. She treats me too much like a kid brother.”
Nancy smiled and then said, “I understand there was a bit of excitement around here the other night when a Mrs. Burke’s valuable necklace was stolen. Did she ever find it?”
“Not that I know of,” Chuck answered. “But then I wasn’t too interested and didn’t pay much attention.”
“Did you know the two men who were accused of taking the necklace?” Nancy prodded him.
The young singer stared at her, frowning. “I don’t know what you mean. Why should I know a couple of crooks?”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Nancy said with a disarming smile. “I heard that you and the two men happened to stop at the Burkes’ table at the same time, that’s all.”
“Oh, if they’re the accused men, I never saw them before in my life,” Chuck answered. “Mrs. Burke—if that’s her name—smiled at me as I came off the platform. She seemed like a nice motherly soul and I was feeling kind of lonesome that evening, so I stopped to chat.”
At this moment the band began to play again. Chuck excused himself and returned to the platform. Nancy and her friends got up to dance.
When they returned to the table, Ned looked at his watch and said, “Much as I hate to break up this party, we fellows must catch a plane. I think we’ll have to go now.” He summoned the waiter and asked for their check.
From time to time Nancy had glanced over the patrons in the restaurant, hoping that the two suspected men might come in. But they did not appear.
“If those two are thieves, they probably work their racket in a different place every time,” she thought.
Soon she and her friends were in the station wagon speeding toward the airport.
“It’s been a swell evening,” Ned declared, as the boys were ready to show their tickets at the gate and walk out to the waiting plane. “And listen, Nancy, you watch your step solving this mystery. Promise me, if you do need any help, you’ll give me a call.”
Burt guffawed. “You’d need a magic carpet to get here in time to do any good!”
Dave also put in his gibe. “If I were you, Ned, I’d tell Nancy to stay away from the stage before she starts taking her lines too seriously!”
The banter continued until the three girls, Bob Simpson, and Kathy Cromwell said good-by to the visitors and waved as they boarded the plane. The Footlighter group stayed to watch the take-off, then Bob took his new leading lady and her friends back to the Van Pelt mansion before he drove Kathy home.
Although it was late, George and Bess followed Nancy into her bedroom and talked excitedly about the whole evening—how marvelous Nancy had been in the show and how surprising Chuck Grant’s announcement was.
“Do you think,” George asked, “that Tammi and Chuck are in cahoots about something?”
“If they are, there’s no clue yet as to what it is,” the young sleuth answered.
Bess yawned and remarked, “He called Tammi a firebrand. I’d like to bet that you’ll hear from her about playing her part so well tonight.”
George grinned. “Tammi can’t do anything until she gets her voice back! I hate to wish anyone hard luck, but I hope she doesn’t recuperate too soon!”
The next morning, just as the girls finished eating their breakfast, the telephone rang. Nancy answered it. The caller was Chief McGinnis.
“I have some news for you, Nancy,” he said. “We’ve picked up a suspect in that necklace job.”
The chief requested that Nancy, Bess, and George come down to headquarters. The suspect was to be put in a line-up for identification. The girls arrived promptly and were introduced to a stranger, named Mike Besser, a pawnbroker in a town some distance away. Among the assembled witnesses was Joe the garageman.
The group was given seats in the main room of police headquarters. Then six men were marched in by an officer and ordered to turn so they would face Nancy and the others.
Not a word was spoken until Chief McGinnis said to the group, “Have any of you ever seen any of these men before?”
At once Mr. Besser spoke up. “That fourth man from the left is the one who came into my shop and pawned an emerald necklace.”
“Did you notice anything unusual about him?” the officer went on.
“No, I didn’t,” the pawnbroker replied.
Joe now answered the chief’s question. “That same man—the fourth from the left—he’s the one who brought in the car with the smashed headlights and fender.”
Bess whispered to Nancy, “The one who rammed into your convertible!”
Nancy and George had been watching the accused man intently. Now Nancy spoke up. “He’s one of the two men we saw at Green Acres Restaurant! He was suspected of having taken Mrs. Burke’s necklace.”
The other men in the line-up were excused. The suspect was brought by the policeman to face the watching group at closer range. Nancy whispered to Chief McGinnis, “Will you ask him to pull up his right shirt sleeve?”
The prisoner refused, so the policeman did it for him.
“There’s the scar!” Nancy cried out. “I’d know that scar anywhere!”
The prisoner gritted his teeth and looked balefully at the group in front of him, but he said nothing. Chief McGinnis explained that when the man had been found in his apartment, he had papers on him showing that he was Owen Whipley.
“That’s the name he gave me,” Mr. Besser spoke up.
“And me,” Joe added.
Nancy looked at Chief McGinnis. “But at the Green Acres Restaurant he had a driver’s license made out to John Terrill!”
The officer faced the prisoner. “Which is your right name and which is an alias?” he asked him. The suspect did not answer.
“We’ll make him talk later,” said the chief, and ordered the policeman to take Whipley to a cell and lock him up.
The officer thanked Mr. Besser and Joe for their co-operation. When the two men had left, Chief McGinnis turned to the girls and said, “Nancy, I want to thank you for your tip. My detectives kept working until they found a tailor who had a jacket with a hole in it to be woven. The gray fabric exactly matched the snip you found in the tree out at the Van Pelt estate.”
“And did you find the dancing puppet and the hooded robe too?” Nancy asked eagerly.
Chief McGinnis shook his head. “No, he apparently keeps them somewhere else.”
Just then the police guard who had taken Whipley away returned. He reported that the prisoner still claimed he was being held illegally—that he had committed no crime.
“Whipley claims,” the policeman went on, “that some unknown person helped himself to his car and dented it. Whipley took it to the garage to be repaired. As for the stolen necklace, Whipley insists he knows nothing about it. He says the one he took to the pawnbroker belongs to a relative who was hard up for cash.”
“His story about the car accident has been changed completely,” Nancy remarked.
Chief McGinnis smiled. “Whipley’s explanations sound pretty flimsy. We’ll hold him until he can find some proof to back up his statements.”
Before leaving, Nancy asked Chief McGinnis where Whipley had been living.
The officer grinned. “I know you’ll pick up a clue,” he said. “Whipley has been renting an apartment at 24 Ambrose Street.”
The three girls went to that address in Nancy’s convertible. Two young women with baby carriages were talking in front of the apartment house.
Nancy stepped from the car and went to speak to them. First she admired the two adorable babies in the carriages. Finding the young mothers friendly, she asked:
“Do you happen to know a Mr. Owen Whipley, who lives here?”
“I know him,” one of the young women answered, “but he doesn’t live here. He has an apartment around the corner.”
Nancy looked surprised. She said, “Do you happen to know John Terrill?”
“He lives here,” the other woman replied.
Nancy laughed. “I’m certainly confused. I thought they probably lived together.” She did not want the two women to suspect she was fishing for information.
Apparently they were unaware of her probing. One said, “If you want to find Owen Whipley, he’s at 16 Dayton Avenue.”
“I know where that is,” said Nancy. “I’ll just stop here a minute and see if Mr. Terrill answers his bell.”
She went inside the apartment house and looked at the mailboxes. Not finding either the name Whipley or Terrill, she went over them all again. Neither was listed, but there was one box without a name. Apparently the suspect did not wish anyone to call on him!
“I suppose the police got their information through the superintendent,” Nancy thought as she came back outside.
She waved to the two young women and climbed back into her car, then set off for 16 Dayton Avenue. On the way she told Bess and George the latest development.
“What a mix-up!” said Bess.
“Maybe the man who called himself Sam Longman at the restaurant is now using the name Whipley,” George remarked.
“Or,” Nancy added, “maybe Terrill rents two apartments.”
Bess sighed. “This mystery is getting beyond me. All I know is that two men using three names are from California, and so are Tammi Whitlock and her brother. Say, do you suppose Chuck Grant was just giving us a story and isn’t her brother at all?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Nancy answered. “My only hunch right now is that Owen Whipley or Sam Longman, or whoever he is, won’t answer his bell.”
In a few minutes she parked, and the girls entered the rather shabby-looking apartment house at 16 Dayton Avenue. It proved to be a walk-up, and Nancy noted that again there was one mailbox without a name on it.
“It probably belongs to the man we want to see,” said George. “Come on! Let’s go up!”
Nancy laid a restraining hand on her chum’s arm. “We have no right to make a search,” she said. “I think we should get in touch with Chief McGinnis, tell him what we’ve found out, and ask him to send a couple of detectives here to go upstairs with us.”
There was a pay phone on the wall near the front door. Nancy put in a coin and called the chief. Speaking barely above a whisper, she told him her findings, and he promised to send men over at once. Upon the arrival of the officers, who introduced themselves as Foster and Dougherty, she led the way to a rear apartment on the third floor.
They rang the bell and waited excitedly. There was no answer. Then Detective Foster knocked. Still there was no answer, but Nancy’s sharp ears caught the sound of a movement inside the apartment.
“I’m sure someone is in there,” she whispered to the officer. “I have a suggestion. It may or may not work. Possibly these thieves use passwords of one sort or another. You might try saying ‘Green Acres’ and see if it works.”
The detective nodded. He tapped on the door lightly and called, “Green Acres! Green Acres!”
Within seconds the group heard footsteps, and a man opened the door. The startled occupant gave one look at the visitors and tried to slam the door. When Detective Foster prevented this, the man took to his heels through the apartment.
“That’s Sam Longman!” Nancy cried, recognizing him as Whipley’s companion at the Green Acres Restaurant.
The girls and the detectives rushed after the suspect. By this time Longman had reached a bedroom. He banged the door shut and locked it.
Suddenly Nancy exclaimed, “There may be a fire escape off that room! He’ll get away!”
“No, he won’t!” said Detective Dougherty. “Foster, you and Miss Drew run down and stop him. I’ll break down this door!”