Chapter 8 The Mystery at the Ski Jump by Carolyn Keene
Clue in New York
Nancy’s fingers tightened on the telephone receiver. “You say the dividend payment looks queer, Mrs. Packer?” she prompted.
“Yes. As you might guess, I have a lot of stock in various companies,” the woman replied. “They always send their dividends by check. Checks signed by their treasurer.”
“And the payment from Forest Fur Company was different?”
“It certainly was,” said the widow. “It was merely a money order mailed from New York. I’m sure no legitimate business would work that way.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Packer. That’s just what I wanted to know,” said Nancy gratefully.
“Well, what did she say?” inquired Hannah Gruen, as Nancy put down the telephone.
“Mrs. Packer agrees with me that something is wrong,” said Nancy. “Do you still have the letter that came with your dividend?”
“There wasn’t any letter.” The housekeeper frowned. “Just the money order in an envelope.”
“Then may I see the envelope, please?” Nancy persisted.
Mrs. Gruen had cashed the money order. Unfortunately she could not remember how she had disposed of the envelope. It was only after ten minutes of fuss and flurry that the envelope was finally located in a trash can.
Nancy smoothed out the crumpled bit of paper and studied the sender’s address in the upper left-hand corner. There was no name; only a smudged address in New York City.
“Who sent those money orders?” she asked herself. “It couldn’t have been Mrs. Channing. She was in River Heights at the very time this envelope was mailed.”
Clearly, then, Nancy thought, the woman must have a confederate in New York—a criminal partner to whom she sent a list of her victims and who must have mailed the dividends.
Was it Mr. Channing?
Nancy set her chin determinedly. “This is the best clue I have—and I won’t lose any time in following it,” she decided. “If Dad doesn’t need me yet, I’ll take the eight o’clock plane for New York tomorrow.”
After supper Nancy telephoned Mr. Drew at his Montreal hotel and told him what she had done so far on her case. Then she asked if she might have a little more time for a quick trip to New York before she joined him.
“If you think it’s important, go ahead,” the lawyer replied. “I’ve found some extra work up here that’ll keep me busy a few days. In the meantime, maybe you’ll solve the mystery of Mrs. Channing.”
Next morning Nancy took her seat on the big passenger plane with a thrill of pleasure. She always enjoyed trips to New York. The city itself was big and exciting. But even more she loved to visit her Aunt Eloise.
Aunt Lou, as Nancy called her, was her father’s younger sister. And more than once the schoolteacher had assisted her niece in solving a mystery.
By noontime Nancy was ringing the bell of her aunt’s apartment. Eloise Drew greeted her with a warm hug and an exclamation of delight.
“Nancy, darling! You’re the answer to a big wish,” cried her aunt. “Here I was with a long week end on my hands and nothing to do. And now, presto! In you pop with that telltale gleam in your eyes. A gleam that says you’re involved in another mystery. Right?”
“Right!” Her niece laughed. “And I hope you’ll help me.”
While she and Aunt Lou prepared a light luncheon, Nancy told her story, ending with the episode about the questionable dividend payment.
“What do you plan to do about it, Nancy?” her aunt inquired.
“Go to the address on that envelope, Aunt Lou. I suspect Mrs. Channing’s husband may be there, and if he’s the one who sent those money orders, I’ll notify the police.”
“I’ll go with you,” the schoolteacher announced.
After she and her niece had finished luncheon they started out. It didn’t take long by subway for Nancy and her aunt to reach the run-down district of the address on the envelope. To their amazement it proved to be a hotel. The place was small and shabby. A bored clerk looked up from the novel he was reading as the two approached his desk.
“I’m looking for Mr. R. I. Channing,” said Nancy. “Is he registered here?”
“Channing?” mumbled the clerk. “No, we haven’t anybody by that name.”
Nancy tried hard to conceal her disappointment. “Perhaps I was mistaken in the name,” she said quickly. “But you do have a guest who works for the Forest Fur Company?”
“No. Don’t think I ever heard of such a firm,” the clerk drawled. “Look, young lady, this is a residential hotel. We don’t handle business and—”
“Pardon me. Did you mention the Forest Fur Company?” interrupted a voice behind Nancy.
The speaker was an overdressed, red-haired woman in her early forties. As Nancy turned to face her, the stranger gave the young detective a glittering, artificial smile.
“I’m Miss Reynolds,” she explained. “I live in this hotel and I couldn’t help but hear your question. I believe I know the very person you’re looking for. I’m a stockholder in his company,” she finished proudly.
Nancy’s heart leaped. “At last we’re getting somewhere,” she thought. Aloud she said, “I’m Nancy Drew and this is my aunt. Would you mind telling me where to find him?”
“Why, Mr. Sidney Boyd occupies the suite next to mine,” went on the red-haired woman loftily. “Such a gentleman, Mr. Boyd! So considerate and such a student of the theater! Why, do you know what he said of my performance in Wild Lilacs, Miss Drew? He said—”
“I’m sure it was very complimentary, Miss Reynolds,” Nancy cut in hastily, when she foresaw that the woman might ramble on indefinitely. “Do you mind telling me how you happened to purchase Forest Fur Company stock? Did Mr. Boyd sell it to you?”
“Of course he did. But only after I coaxed him,” admitted the actress, coyly rolling her eyes. “It isn’t every day that a girl can buy into the mink fur business.”
The clerk had listened to this conversation wide-eyed. Now he waited until Miss Reynolds nodded a good-bye to the Drews and sauntered slowly toward the elevator.
“Huh! So Bunny Reynolds calls herself an actress, does she!” he snorted. “Why, she hasn’t had a theater engagement in years.”
“What about your other guest, Mr. Sidney Boyd?” Nancy prompted.
“Yes, what about him?” Aunt Lou challenged.
“Listen, ladies. I’m the manager here as well as the clerk. We don’t want any trouble on these premises.”
“Then I judge you don’t want any trouble with the law, either?” Eloise Drew reminded him. “Suppose this Mr. Sidney Boyd is involved in a fake stock swindle?”
“A swindle!” The manager gulped. “Why—why, I always suspected there was something phony about that fellow Boyd,” the clerk stammered. “He’s such a glib talker. Such a man with the ladies.”
“What does he look like?” Nancy inquired.
“Oh, the usual type,” the clerk shrugged. “Small and slender. Dark eyes. Slick patent-leather hair.”
“Well, that settles one possibility,” Nancy thought. “Sidney Boyd can’t be Mrs. Channing’s husband. He’s a big, broad-shouldered man. But if Boyd sold fur stock to Mrs. Reynolds, he may have sold some to others in the hotel.” Aloud she said, “Would you mind if I question some of your staff about Mr. Boyd?”
The clerk hesitated. “I don’t know, Miss Drew. We have a small organization here. Everyone’s pretty busy.”
“It will take only a few minutes,” Nancy pleaded. “I want to talk to the bellhops and porters. And especially to the chambermaid on Mr. Boyd’s floor.”
“Very well,” the man agreed. “Step into my office, ladies. I’ll send the bellhops in first.”
The bellhops could tell Nancy nothing about Sidney Boyd except that he tipped them generously and never seemed to work. The maids on three floors likewise could add nothing.
It was only when Nancy interviewed Katy, the fourth-floor maid, that the picture, so far as it concerned Mr. Sidney Boyd, began to clear. Katy did not want to talk at first. But Nancy’s sympathetic attitude soon drew her out.
“Mr. Sidney Boyd was very particular,” the maid explained. “Always wanted his bed made just so and extra towels in the bathroom. He got up late and sometimes, while I was waiting to clean up, he chatted with me friendly like.”
“What did you chat about?” Nancy asked.
“Oh, he talked about when he was a little boy in Canada,” said Katy vaguely. “He said his mother was French and that his pa was a fur trapper. Mr. Boyd knows a lot about furs,” the maid rambled on. “That’s how I come to buy some of his fur stock.”
“Forest Fur Company stock?” Nancy said quickly.
“Yeh. I had a little money saved up,” said Katy, twisting her hands nervously. “Maybe I shouldn’t have spent it. But Mr. Boyd felt sorry for me. He wanted to help me make more money. He mentioned big dividends.”
“Have you had any yet?” Nancy asked.
“No, but Mr. Boyd promised some money soon.”
Eloise Drew could restrain herself no longer. “Why, the man’s a contemptible rascal!” she cried out indignantly. “How can he rob hard-working people that way?”
“Rob!” Katy exclaimed, tears flooding her faded eyes. “You’re saying that Mr. Boyd took my money and—and cheated me?” she wailed.
“I think you’ll get it back,” Nancy soothed. “We just want to find out—”
Katy had already leaped to her feet. With a hysterical sob, she flung open the office door and rushed from the room.
Nancy’s aunt was sorry she had spoken.
“Nevertheless,” said Miss Drew, “this sort of thing makes me heartsick. When I think of all the sorrow these thieves have caused, even jail seems too good for them. What do you propose to do next, Nancy?”
“See Sidney Boyd,” Nancy answered. “And turn him over to the police.”
As she and her aunt approached the hotel desk, they heard the clang of the elevator door and the sharp click of high heels. An agitated voice called:
“Nancy Drew! . . . Wait!”
Bunny Reynolds ran across the lobby toward Nancy. The actress’s eyes were wild and her face was chalk white.
“Katy told me everything!” she panted. “It’s dreadful! Just dreadful! Fake fur stock!”
“Perhaps you’ll get your money back,” Nancy said. “At least I’m trying—”
“And the earrings!” the actress interrupted. “What about the diamond earrings I bought from Sidney Boyd? I suppose they’re worthless, too!”