Chapter 15 The Clue of the Velvet Mask by Carolyn Keene
An Investigation
Greatly excited by Nancy’s discovery, Alice asked her how she knew that the miniature was stolen. Bess and Nancy examined it in minute detail, and told of having seen the miniature before the robbery.
“But Taylor’s wouldn’t accept stolen merchandise, Nancy,” the young clerk objected.
“Not knowingly. But this may have been sold to them without their realizing it was stolen. Perhaps they got it from an antique dealer.”
All agreed that the miniature was greatly underpriced, even if it were only an excellent copy of the original.
Nancy promptly bought the miniature. She would find out for certain if it had been stolen from the Hendricks.
“Have you others like these?” Nancy asked Alice.
“I know a shipment came in, but all the merchandise isn’t on the floor yet,” the girl replied. “I’ll ask Mr. Watkins about it. He’s head of our department.”
Mr. Watkins was a stubby, white-haired old man with glasses. When he saw the miniature which was being wrapped for Nancy, he glanced quickly at the tag.
“This item must have been mismarked,” he said. “Taylor’s wouldn’t ask to have it back, of course, but I must check invoices before any more articles in the shipment are sold.”
Nancy expressed a desire to see the other miniatures immediately, if they were for sale.
“We’ll look into this,” the elderly clerk said. “Come with me to the marking room.”
He led the girls to a rear exit and across a dark alleyway to a building used for receiving and marking.
“Snecker!” he called loudly, switching on an overhead light. “Hey, Snecker! Where is he?” Mr. Watkins asked as a young clerk emerged from an adjoining room.
“He’s not here,” the boy said. “Mr. Snecker’s taken the day off.”
“Again?” Mr. Watkins remarked irritably.
To Nancy and Bess he explained that Burt Snecker was in charge of uncrating and marking all items to be put on sale and shipping damaged goods back to factories. Nancy was interested.
“Then if a mistake were made in pricing the miniature, it would be Mr. Snecker’s fault?” she asked.
“That’s right. This miniature is underpriced; no question about that. I’ll examine the invoices.”
Nancy and Bess waited patiently in the windowless, stuffy room while he checked through records and bills. All about them were piled crates and boxes, many not yet opened.
“Strange,” Mr. Watkins remarked presently. “I can’t seem to find an invoice for the piece you have. I know a small shipment came in from abroad.” He questioned the clerk, but the young man knew nothing about the matter. Mr. Snecker had put the price tag on the miniature.
“I’ll take the matter up with him tomorrow,” Mr. Watkins said.
“Is Mr. Snecker an old and trusted employee?” Nancy asked casually.
“No, he hasn’t been with Taylor’s very long,” Mr. Watkins admitted. “However, he’s an efficient worker. Takes too many days off, though. Either he’s ill or he has to go fishing. The minute he’s through work, away he goes to the country.”
Mr. Watkins still was thumbing through a stack of papers in search of the elusive bill of lading.
“The fishing bug bit Snecker hard. Why, he goes out to the river summer and winter, clear, rainy, or snowy!”
This struck Nancy as odd. How did the man manage to keep his job?
Curious to meet Mr. Snecker and question him about whether the miniature had been among the articles from abroad, Nancy determined to drop around the next day to see him.
Meanwhile, she and Bess called at the Hendricks’ home. When Gloria and her mother saw the miniature they instantly identified it as theirs.
“The idea of Taylor’s selling stolen merchandise!” Mrs. Hendrick exclaimed indignantly. “Wait until I tell the police!”
“If that’s your wish, Mrs. Hendrick,” Nancy replied. “But I have a hunch the store isn’t to blame and I’d like to work on the case myself. If you call the police, it might make it impossible to obtain additional clues.”
“Oh, Mother, let Nancy do it,” Gloria spoke up. “She found the miniature.”
Mrs. Hendrick smiled. “I’ll wait a few days,” she agreed. “That will give you a chance to talk to Mr. Snecker, Nancy.”
“Yes,” said Nancy, “I’m hoping he may be able to give us a direct lead which will end in the arrest of these thieves.”
“It certainly wouldn’t be fair to accuse Taylor’s,” Bess chimed in. “I’m sure the firm wouldn’t knowingly accept stolen goods.”
Next morning Nancy hurried to the department store. To her disappointment, Mr. Snecker had telephoned that he was too ill to work.
“Very likely he’s out fishing,” Mr. Watkins grumbled. “That young clerk of his can’t do all the work. Things are getting behind.”
During the brief conversation with the elderly man, Nancy managed to get two valuable bits of information from him.
First she learned that the note sent to employees countermanding the order to turn in their charge plates had been unsigned. At once Nancy became suspicious and her thoughts turned to Snecker and the stolen miniature.
“Do you know where Mr. Snecker lives?” she asked Mr. Watkins.
“I can tell you in a minute.” He consulted a book under the counter. “He lives at twenty-four Tanner Street. You goin’ to see him?” A look of amusement crossed the elderly man’s face and he shook his head. “When women get their hearts set on a thing, they sure go after it. Well, I hope Snecker can tell you what you want to know about the Marie Antoinette miniature.”
Nancy smiled, thanked Mr. Watkins for the information, and left the store.
“At least,” she thought determinedly as she went to her car, “I’ll try to find out something from Mr. Snecker before Mrs. Hendrick turns this matter over to the police.”
She stopped to ask the way from a traffic officer. He gave directions to a section of River Heights with which she was not familiar.
“Tanner Street,” she mused. “Must be in an old section of town.”
Nancy was right. The vicinity in which the apartment house was located was poor and densely settled. She was obliged to drive very slowly, as the streets were filled with children playing.
After riding through several drab, unattractive streets, Nancy finally came to the one she sought. The house where the Sneckers lived was at the far end of it. The red-brick dwelling, composed of four stories, was run-down and outmoded.
She applied her brakes, intending to pull into a vacant space a short distance beyond the building. As she slowed down, another car which had been parked directly in front of the house pulled away from the curb.
“Now, where have I seen that car before?” Nancy thought.
Her pulse quickened. The car was a mud-splattered green sedan. Though she caught only a fleeting glimpse of the driver, she recognized him at once.
“That’s Peter Tombar!” she thought. “Could he have been visiting Burt Snecker? And why?”