Chapter 4 The Clue of the Velvet Mask by Carolyn Keene
An Irate Employer
The “moment” which Nancy had expected to be gone stretched into ten minutes. She could not find Mr. Lightner immediately, but finally she saw him on the street about to get into his car. He returned with her to the costume room.
John Dale was no longer there, but he came back shortly, saying that Mr. Tombar, the assistant manager, had asked him to go on an errand.
“Now let’s see this cloak you say has a hole in it,” Mr. Lightner said to Nancy. “The costume never should have been returned to the rack without being repaired.”
Twice Nancy looked through the costumes, examining every black cloak. The telltale one was not there!
“Did you remove the one which I pointed out to you?” she asked John, seeing an empty hanger.
“Why, no,” he answered. “It was here when I was called away.”
“Then someone else has taken it. You saw the cloak yourself only a few minutes ago.”
“Yes, I did,” the man replied.
Mr. Lightner checked with his other employees by telephone to their desks, but all denied having seen or moved the garment.
Though Nancy said little, suspicion was crystallizing in her mind. She felt sure that someone in the entertainment firm was not telling the truth—someone who might even be working with the party thieves! She was certain that John Dale was not guilty.
Another daring idea popped into Nancy’s mind. Maybe the thief had borrowed the robe, returned it, and was hiding, waiting for a chance to escape, when Nancy had shown up.
“So he went off with the cloak again,” she thought. Aloud she said to Mr. Lightner, “Would you mind telling me who rented the cloak?”
“Not at all. Every garment has a number. The one that belongs on this empty hanger is 4579. Come with me and we’ll look into the matter.”
Records showed that the cloak, a velvet mask, and accessories had been rented two days earlier by a James Flobear, Route 1, Brandon.
“That’s a small town about twenty miles from here,” he explained. “I don’t happen to know this Mr. Flobear.”
Mr. Lightner’s next remark stunned Nancy. He said that Linda Seeley had handled the transaction. But Linda had said the night before that she had not rented the black robe!
Summoned by Mr. Lightner, the girl denied any knowledge of the cloak. “I didn’t know that costume had been rented,” she declared. “Someone else put my initials on the typed slip. He’s trying to shift the blame to me because a thief wore it!” she cried hysterically.
“What!” Mr. Lightner exclaimed.
He was very upset by her accusation and summoned every employee in the place. They all came except Mr. Tombar, who was busy with a customer. All denied any knowledge of the entry for the torn cloak or what had become of it.
Mr. Lightner paced the floor. “This is bad—very bad for our business,” he declared. “This firm is old and has a fine reputation.”
To break the tension Nancy said that she would like to know how the costume had been returned. To this question none of the employees had an answer, either.
Deeply troubled over the whole incident, Nancy decided to make an attempt to track down James Flobear. A short time later she left the entertainment company and called at the post office. From the postmaster, who was an old friend of her father, she learned that no one by the name of Flobear lived in or near Brandon.
“Just as I suspected,” Nancy said to herself. “Obviously a false name was given so there could be no follow-up. And whoever had charge of the transaction at Lightner’s is afraid to say so.”
Nancy’s next call was at the police station, where she talked directly with Chief Denny. He thanked her for her assistance the evening before and listened attentively to her story of the morning’s happenings.
“You always seem to pick up a clue a little ahead of us.” The chief smiled. “I’ll send a man over to Lightner’s to check up on the cloak episode.”
Nancy asked if the police had at any time suspected the entertainment company in connection with the party robberies.
“You’re asking for inside information, Miss Drew,” the officer said. “But I know you’ll keep anything I tell you confidential.”
“Of course.”
“We did suspect the company at first and had everyone in it shadowed for two weeks, even Mr. Lightner himself. But we didn’t find out a thing that was suspicious about any of them. No, I guess we’ll have to hunt for our thieves somewhere else.”
“Last night Detective Ambrose seemed very suspicious of Linda Seeley who works there,” Nancy said.
“You’ve caught me again,” the chief owned up. “We do have our eye on Miss Seeley. No direct evidence against her, you understand. But she may be getting something out of this on the side.”
“What do you mean?”
“She may be accepting a percentage on each haul for supplying information that pays off. Miss Seeley may be working with the gang and also with servants in the homes where big parties are arranged by the Lightner Entertainment Company.”
Nancy remained thoughtfully silent. She had not realized that a police net was closing in around Linda!
“The girl has a clean record,” the captain resumed. “We never would have suspected her if we hadn’t been tipped off by her employer.”
“Not Mr. Lightner?” Nancy gasped.
“No, by his assistant, Peter Tombar. When we talked to him after a robbery at a party which he and Miss Seeley took care of, he suggested that the girl might bear watching.”
“But why?”
“Well, because she was in charge of certain parties at which robberies took place,” the chief answered.
Nancy left the police station more troubled than ever over Linda’s predicament. Was Peter Tombar’s distrust of the girl warranted?
“I think I’ll go and have a talk with him,” she reflected.
It was nearing the noon hour by the time she reached the Lightner offices. Most of the employees had gone to lunch, but Mr. Tombar was there. A secretary directed Nancy to a rear room where the man was inspecting an Egyptian mask made of painted plaster.
Peter Tombar cast an unfriendly glance at Nancy. He was a rather stout man, dark-complexioned, with a hard, determined set to his jaw.
At once, Nancy felt on the defensive. She divined instantly that Mr. Tombar would not co-operate unless it suited his purpose to answer her questions. Lowering her voice and assuming a confidential manner, she said:
“Mr. Tombar, I’m here to check up on one of your employees—a girl named Linda Seeley.”
A glint of satisfaction flickered in the man’s dark eyes. Immediately he became less guarded.
“In trouble with the police, isn’t she?” he demanded. “I told Mr. Lightner a week ago that girl would get the company in hot water.”
“Tell me what you know about her,” Nancy asked.
“She’s flighty. Scatterbrained, I’d call her.”
“You’ve caught her in mistakes?”
“Well, not exactly,” Mr. Tombar admitted reluctantly. “She’s crafty. Twists like a pretzel when you try to pin her down.”
“Then you actually haven’t anything against her?”
“Say, what is this—a police court?” he growled. “A man has his own reasons for not liking hired help and he doesn’t have to tell why!”
Nancy flushed.
“By the way, have you any theory concerning the recent party robberies?” she asked calmly.
“I have!” Mr. Tombar returned with emphasis. “And I guess you know the person I mean.”
Nancy nodded. But instead of being convinced that Linda was guilty, she felt an even stronger urge to help the girl. Tombar plainly disliked her and intended to have her discharged if he could find the excuse.
Nancy left his office and walked across the street. Her dislike of the man was increasing and she wondered what motive he had for casting suspicion on Linda. There was more to the mystery than had come to the surface yet.
Passing a drugstore with a soda counter, Nancy went in for a sandwich. To her delight she noticed that Linda was there too. She slid onto a stool beside her.
After giving her order, she drew Linda into conversation. The girl seemed very despondent, and Nancy could guess the reason.
“It’s Mr. Tombar,” Linda confessed. “He lectured me again this morning.”
“What about?”
“The robbery last night, and the missing black cloak.”
“The cloak hasn’t been found?”
“Not yet. Mr. Lightner is most annoyed. Oh, everyone’s in a frightful mood.”
As Nancy stirred her hot chocolate, she said, “Tell me about Mr. Tombar. What’s he like?”
“Vinegar and acid. He’s efficient, though. Mr. Lightner depends on him, but Mr. Tombar’s a slave driver, always bawling out employees if they’re a minute late.”
“I suppose he’s always on time himself?” Nancy asked.
“Oh, yes. But he makes up for it by taking a two-hour lunch period nearly every day. He waits until the others get back, then goes off alone. He never eats with the other men.”
“Where does he eat?” Nancy asked.
“I don’t know,” Linda answered. “Maybe out of town. He always takes his car.”
Two hours for lunch was a long time for a strict disciplinarian like Tombar! The information interested Nancy, who mulled over it as she ate her sandwich.
“I must go now,” Linda said with an anxious glance at the wall clock. “See you later.”
Left alone, Nancy finished her own lunch leisurely and paid the bill. As she left the drugstore, she chanced to look across the street toward the Lightner offices.
Peter Tombar was just coming out, a package in his hand. Nancy saw him walk briskly to a green sedan parked a short distance away. A wild thought came to her. Did he have the torn cloak with him?
She noted that not only the wheels but the fenders were heavily caked with mud. Evidently Mr. Tombar had driven recently on unpaved roads in the country. He might be going there now to dispose of the cloak!
Nancy wished fervently that she might follow him, but she had not driven her own car downtown that morning. What miserable luck! Just when she needed it most!
A taxicab with a vacant sign rounded the corner. Instantly Nancy hailed the driver and hopped in.
“Follow that green car ahead!” she directed as Mr. Tombar pulled out.
“Friend of yours?” The taximan grinned.
“No, just the opposite,” Nancy replied, blushing.
“Okay, lady. Here goes!”
Nancy’s worry that Peter Tombar might have seen her action and would lead the taxi a merry chase proved to be true. At high speed he turned right at the first corner. By the time the taxi reached the intersection, the green sedan was far down the side street.
“That old boy’s sure stepping on it,” the taxi driver declared. “You want me to keep him in sight?”
“I certainly do.”
“Then sit tight, miss. And keep an eye out for cops!”