Chapter 17 The Clue of the Velvet Mask by Carolyn Keene
Blue Iris Inn
Though furious at Mr. Tombar’s outburst, Nancy gave no indication of her feeling.
“Spying?” she echoed. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“You young nuisance!” Tombar snapped. “You’re always around!”
Nancy smiled and remained silent.
“Well, since you’re so curious,” the man said, “I’ll tell you why Mr. Richard Harris was here. He’s trying to sell me a cemetery plot, and I don’t want to buy it. That’s all.”
Nancy was certain that the man was lying, but she pretended to accept his explanation.
“It’s not pleasant to think about dying,” she said, “but I suppose it’s necessary.”
“Hm—yes. Well, what else do you want to know?” Mr. Tombar became a trifle more agreeable.
Nancy told him of the purpose of her call—to ask that he take Linda Seeley back.
“I’m sure she’s innocent and won’t cause you any trouble.”
“Nothing doing,” Mr. Tombar replied shortly. “I don’t trust her.”
Nancy outlined several sound reasons why the girl should be rehired, but the man gazed at her coldly. It was plain that he could not be swayed.
“I have someone else in mind,” he stated.
The telephone rang, and Mr. Tombar stepped to his desk to answer it. Though he lowered his voice, Nancy heard him speak the name Florence. Instantly her suspicions were aroused. Was he talking to Florence Snecker? What business might they have together?
Try as she would, Nancy could not figure out anything about the call because the conversation was one-sided, the other person doing all the talking. Finally slamming down the receiver and turning almost purple with rage, Mr. Tombar glared at Nancy in the doorway.
“I knew it! Trying to get an earful again!” he screamed. “Well, this is the last time!”
Fists clenched, he started toward Nancy as if intending to harm her. Midway across the room he stopped in dismay, staring over her shoulder.
Nancy turned. Directly behind her stood Mr. Lightner, glowering at his employee.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded.
“Why, I—that is—Miss Drew is always interfering—” Mr. Tombar stammered.
“That’s no excuse for your actions, Tombar. You’d better explain further.”
“I—I’m sorry, Mr. Lightner. My apology. I didn’t mean any harm. I—I—”
Nancy escaped to the hall so that the two men might talk privately. But they did not close the door, and as she paused to get a drink at a water cooler, she could hear them plainly.
“Tombar, I’ve given you free rein in the business since you asked me a few months ago,” Mr. Lightner said icily. “I permitted you to take complete charge in this department. Without my knowledge you discharged Miss Seeley, though personally I liked her work.
“And since then matters in this department have been no better—if anything, they’re worse. Records in bad shape. Customers dissatisfied.
“And now I hear you threatening Miss Drew, who happens to be the daughter of one of my very good friends. This is the last straw.”
“I gave an apology.”
“It is accepted,” Mr. Lightner returned. “And also your resignation.”
“My resignation! You’re not firing me! You can’t do that. I’ve been here four years and people depend on me—”
“I can and I have,” the president corrected. “Pick up your pay check as you leave. I think there is nothing more to discuss.”
Mr. Lightner turned on his heel and left the office. Meeting Nancy in the hall he assured her that she was welcome to return at any time, and he was sorry for what had happened.
“I know it wasn’t your fault,” he said.
The president promised that he would look into Linda’s case as soon as he had a spare moment. Nancy thanked him and started for the door.
At this moment she saw Tombar stride out of the building by a side entrance. He had not waited for his pay check!
“That will give him an excuse to come back here later, if he wants to,” she thought, and left the building.
Her next stop was her father’s office. Through him she learned that Mr. Harris, instead of being a cemetery association salesman, was connected with a downtown real-estate firm.
“I’m afraid Tombar is doing a lot of covering up,” the lawyer stated.
“Covering up shady deals,” Nancy declared.
“Maybe I should have him followed,” Mr. Drew suggested.
“If he found out about it, we might never learn what we suspect,” Nancy said. “Give me a little longer, Dad. At least until you’ve finished the brief you’re working on.”
“Well, all right,” her father said.
Obtaining Mr. Harris’ address, Nancy went to his office on White Avenue. She told him quite frankly that the purpose of her call was to learn of his business connection with Mr. Tombar. Still irritated by the treatment he had received, the agent willingly answered her query.
“I asked Mr. Tombar to sell the old Blue Iris Inn,” he disclosed. “Do you know the place?”
Nancy shook her head. “No. I never heard of it.”
“It’s a picturesque old inn out in the country on Woodland Road. An isolated place and in run-down condition. All the same, it could be converted into a top-notch dine and dance spot.
“I have a client who wants to develop the property. Tombar bought the place for a song and could make a neat profit on it.”
“He doesn’t want to sell?”
“We offered him double what he paid for it. He won’t even discuss the matter.”
“Maybe he plans to develop the place himself.”
“Tombar?” Mr. Harris smiled. “I doubt it. He’s just stubborn, that’s all.”
Nancy was sure that there was more than stubbornness back of the refusal. She asked the real-estate agent for a description of the old inn. He told her that it was a clapboard structure, situated about eighteen miles from River Heights.
“I’ll bet that’s where Mr. Tombar used to go on his lunch hour,” Nancy reflected. “He’d just about have time to make it in two hours, if he drove fast and didn’t stay too long.”
Recalling the muddy tires on Tombar’s car, she asked Mr. Harris if Woodland Road were paved.
“Not all the way. That’s one of the bad features,” the agent admitted. “My client can finance the paving, though, for the short distance that would be necessary. If you have influence with Tombar, I wish you’d advise him to sell the inn. Since it is fast falling into ruin, he would be fortunate indeed to get rid of it now.”
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t have much luck in persuading Mr. Tombar to sell it, either,” Nancy replied.
The name of the old Blue Iris Inn intrigued Nancy. She would have enjoyed looking it over under any circumstances. Now, knowing its owner was Peter Tombar, she had a particular desire to see it. Nancy did some marketing for Mrs. Gruen, picked up her car, and wondered what her next move should be.
Reaching home, she telephoned Bess Marvin at once, bringing her up to date on what had happened and inviting her to drive out to the Blue Iris Inn early the next morning.
“Just the two of us? Alone?” Bess asked dubiously.
“Why, yes. Unless George can go. There’s no chance of that, I suppose?”
“Don’t even let her know you’re making the trip,” Bess advised hastily. “I was over there a little while ago. She’s out of bed, but not herself at all. Her family is terribly worried about her. Isn’t it awful, Nancy? By the way, she spent most of the time talking about you.”
“Again?”
“She’s so afraid you’ll get hurt by the Velvet Gang.”
“I wish she could forget that worry.”
“She’s obsessed by it. So whatever you do, don’t mention the Blue Iris Inn to her.”
“I won’t,” Nancy promised, deeply concerned.
“You’ll go with me, though?”
“I suppose so,” Bess consented reluctantly. “I hate to do it, but I won’t let you down. When shall we start?”
“Right after breakfast. I’ll stop by for you at nine o’clock.” Nancy laughed, and added with a chuckle, “Better pack some sandwiches and a thermos of milk, too! The dining room won’t be open at Blue Iris Inn. And I have a hunch we may spend a long day there!”
“Oh, Nancy, in that spooky, closed-up place. The very thought of it gives me the shivers!”