Nancy paused, then went on slowly, "Didn't you say Lenny was angry because your script was chosen over his? I wonder—could he have written the message himself?"
"Could be," Ned said. "I'm trying to remember in what order we arrived at Grimsby Mansion. Let's see. I was there first with the key that Mr. Ullman loaned me. Then the two cars with the other club members pulled in, a minute or two apart. About five minutes later, Tony drove up. Then you and Bess and George rode in from the woods."
"Well, that doesn't sound as though Gwen or Lenny had a chance," Nancy concluded. "But I think we'd better keep our eyes open. Maybe those three who left were just pretending to be nervous because they wanted an excuse not to do any work."
Over dessert, Nancy told Ned about her mysterious caller who had left no name or number. Both wondered if the call might have any connection with the afternoons disturbing turn of events.
The gym at Westmoor was cheerfully decorated and it echoed with lively chatter when they arrived for the dance. The band was already set up, tuning their instruments and testing the sound system.
Although Nancy and Ned were greeted by many friends, their attention was instantly drawn to some other guests, notably several members of the film club at Burnside Tech.
"They have entered the movie contest, too," Ned confided with a grin. "They've probably come as enemy spies."
"Okay, mums the word!" Nancy joked back. "Pass it along."
Soon after the music began, Gwen Jethro and Lenny Arthur danced by. They glanced slyly at Nancy and Ned, then looked at each other as if sharing some private joke.
"Uh—oh," Nancy murmured to Ned. "I bet those two are up to something." But she quickly forgot about their unpleasant smiles as her enjoyment of the evening grew.
On one occasion, however, she danced with young, bespectacled Professor Walter Barnes, who was acting as Westmoor's faculty advisor to the film club.
"I'm sorry you won't be able to play in our film," he said, startling the girl. "I feel sure you would have done a wonderful job."
Nancy looked at him in amazement. "But I thought I was going to."
"I thought you couldn't," Professor Barnes replied with a frown. "I've assigned the role to Gwen Jethro."
He went on to explain that he had been working steadily at his office all Saturday afternoon, trying to catch up on his overloaded schedule, and had discovered an unsigned note on his desk. It said that Nancy would not be able to play in the clubs movie as expected because she was going to be in a TV commercial.
"The commercial isn't definite yet," Nancy informed him, "and, anyway, I certainly wouldn't let it interfere with the film."
"So it wasn't you who left the note, as I assumed." The kindhearted professor looked confused and unhappy over the mix-up. "I'll see what I can do, Nancy. Unfortunately, I have just filled out and mailed the entry form for the film contest, and it lists Gwen Jethro as the actress in the ingenue role."
He added apologetically, "111 check to see if I can change the assignment again. It's rather awkward. You see, I already had to get special permission from the contest sponsors to enter our film club as a contestant after the June 30th closing date. I hope I won't have to disappoint you, Nancy."
The music came to a stop as the band paused for a break. Nancy and the professor were joined by Ned and Sara White, one of the girls in the film club.
Nancy told them what had happened.
"What a mean trick!" Sara exclaimed. "I wonder who wrote that note?" But as their eyes met, Nancy could tell instinctively that there was no doubt in Saras mind as to who the guilty party was, even though she did not like to say so openly in front of Professor Barnes.
"This is really awful," Ned remarked. "Do you think there's any chance of getting it changed, Professor?"
"We'll just have to see, Ned."
The two girls and Ned walked to the refreshment table, where Nancy discovered Gwen staring at her triumphantly. The look reminded her of Gwen's and Lenny's sly smiles earlier.
"Three guesses who slipped that note on Professor Barnes's desk!" Sara murmured.
Although disappointed, Nancy knew that the professor would do whatever he could to remedy the situation. Meanwhile, worrying would not help and would only spoil the evening for herself and Ned.
Just then they were joined in the line by Dr. Frieda Davis and her distinguished-looking husband. She was a young, dark-haired computer specialist on the faculty of Westmoor's business administration department.
"Hello, Ned. How did you get on with Mr. Ullman?"
Dr. Davis knew everyone of importance in the local business community, and it was she who had helped to arrange for the use of Grimsby Mansion by the film club.
"We got along just fine, thanks to you," Ned responded. "The club is going to do some cleanup work in exchange for the favor."
Then he introduced Nancy and Sara.
"Dr. Davis, is there anyone besides Mr. Ullman who can get into the mansion?" Nancy asked.
"Not that I know of. The Grimsbys had no relatives, and the place has been vacant a long time. Why do you ask?"
Nancy told her about the threatening message traced on the dusty table top.
"How strange!" Dr. Davis looked startled. "I remember last year Mr. Ullman said he had discovered some hippies using the house. But I think he changed the locks at that time. He could tell you more about it."
When the couple returned to the dance floor, Nancy said she intended to find out about the hippies. "And lets ask Mr. Ullman if he's had any trouble since then with other intruders in the house."
"Good idea," Ned agreed, but until they were on their way home again, they said no more about it.
However, when they turned onto North Road, which ran along the edge of Brookvale Forest, Nancy glanced out of the window to her right.
To her horror, the sky was glowing red over the treetops!
"Ned, look!" she exclaimed. "That must be a fire! And its coming from the direction of Grimsby Mansion!"
3. Stolen Winner
"You're right! Those are flames!" Ned declared tensely. "Wed better get over there fast!''
He swung the wheel and turned up the road that led through the forest to Grimsby Mansion. By
driving swiftly over the bumpy dirt road, they arrived at the scene in a few minutes.
Nancys heart sank when she saw that the stable in back of the house was burning fiercely. "Oh, Ned! How can we possibly save it?" she exclaimed.
"We probably can't. But at least the house itself hasn't caught fire yet!''
The creek bed below the slope was dry, but there was an old well on the property. Ned ran toward it and peered down. Moonlight glinted from the scummy, green surface below.
"Here's water!" he cried, and hastily let down the bucket. Before he could crank it up again, though, the distant wail of a siren was heard.
"Thank goodness!" Nancy said fervently. "Someone else must have seen the flames and phoned in an alarm!"
Ned only had time to splash a few bucketsful on the blaze before the fire truck came screaming and rumbling up the forest lane. Hearing its approach, Nancy quickly moved Neds car out of the way.
The volunteer firemen, who had responded to the alarm from their homes, wasted no time. They dropped a hose down the well and in moments were aiming a stream of water at the burning stable.
Nancy watched breathlessly with Ned's arm around her. The flames dwindled and finally died out. By that time, however, the stable was a blackened ruin. Some of the nearest trees had also been burned, but luckily the coach house, ten yards away, was undamaged.
"What happened?" the fire chief asked the two young people when at last his men began reeling up their hoses.
"We've no idea," Ned replied. "We were driving back from the Westmoor dance and saw the reddish glow over the trees, so we came to investigate."
"Did you see anyone around?"
"Not a soul. But by then the whole stable was on fire, so if anyone did set it, either accidentally or on purpo
se, he'd have had plenty of time to clear out."
The unfortunate incident cast a pall over Neds and Nancy's enjoyment of the evening. "What a shame this had to happen!" she murmured on the way home. "Do you suppose someone really started the fire on purpose?"
Ned shrugged uneasily. "To tell the truth, I don't see how else it could have happened," he replied. "There's such a thing as spontaneous combustion, I guess, in a barn full of stored hay where heat builds up bit by bit until the dry stalks kindle into flame. But those stables at the Grimsby Mansion have stood empty for years. Why should they catch fire now?"
Nancy frowned in puzzlement. "I can't imagine either, Ned, unless maybe those hippies came back."
Bess Marvin dropped over late on Sunday morning to join Nancy for brunch. "Did you hear about the fire at the Grimsby Mansion?" the blond girl asked.
Nancy nodded as she poured her guest a cup of coffee. "Ned and I discovered it."
"Good grief! Will that spoil things for the movie?"
"I hope not. There aren't any scenes that take place in or around the stable as far as I can remember the script. There's an important night sequence that happens outside the mansion, but I imagine Ned can aim the camera so it wont take in the burned area."
The two girls heard the telephone ringing, and Hannah Gruen presently appeared in the dining room doorway. "Its for you, Nancy," she said. "I think he's the same person who called yesterday."
"About a mystery he wanted solved?"
"That's the one!" the motherly housekeeper confirmed, her eyes twinkling.
"Thanks, Hannah! I'll be right there!" Nancy responded, dabbing her lips with a napkin and jumping to her feet.
"What's up?" Bess asked, shooting a wide-eyed glance at the girl detective.
"I don't know myself yet, but I'll give you a full report as soon as I come back to the table!"
She picked up the receiver and said, "This is Nancy Drew. Who's calling, please?"
"My name is Roger Harlow," said a deep, pleasant-sounding man's voice. "I own a horse-breeding farm out on Aurora Road called Rainbow Ranch. Perhaps youVe heard of it?"
"Oh, yes, Mr. Harlow. I've passed it often."
"Miss Drew, f ve heard a good deal about your abilities as a detective. Of course, I know of your fathers reputation as an attorney, though that has nothing to do with my present call. It happens that I'm in need of a private investigator, and I wondered if you might be interested in taking on the case. For a suitable fee, of course."
Nancy explained that she delved into mysteries as a hobby and in order to help people, but accepted no payment for her work. Then she asked, "What's the nature of your problem, Mr. Harlow?"
Her caller hesitated. "I'd rather not go into details over the phone. But it would give me great pleasure to meet you in person, Miss Drew. Would you care to drop over for tea this afternoon?"
Nancy accepted the invitation. Roger Harlow thanked her and added, "Shall we say three o'clock if that's convenient? Fine! Ill look forward to seeing you."
Bess was bursting with curiosity when Nancy related the telephone conversation. "Wasn't a racehorse recently stolen from Rainbow Ranch?" Bess asked.
"Yes, I believe so. But he didn't say whether or not that was the problem he wants me to investigate."
Nancy herself was intrigued by Roger Harlow's call. That afternoon, she drove through the arched gateway bearing the name Rainbow Ranch in wrought-iron script and turned up the driveway toward his stately, white-columned house. She found herself as curious as Bess Marvin over why he had chosen to consult her.
A maid answered the door and escorted Nancy to the drawing room. Mr. Harlow appeared a moment later and held out his hand cordially. He was a handsome, tweed-suited man in his early sixties with thinning hair and a ruddy complexion.
"How nice of you to come, Miss Drew! And on such short notice!"
The young detective smiled back at her host. "A mystery is always a challenge that I find hard to resist," she confessed. "But perhaps we'd both feel more comfortable if you just called me Nancy."
"Thank you, I will. Please sit down, Nancy."
Later, when tea had been poured, Mr. Harlow said, "I don't know if Tony Traynor mentioned that Rainbow Ranch is where that television commercial will be shot."
"No, he didn't," the girl said in surprise.
"Actually, it was Tony's call yesterday afternoon saying he wanted you as the model for the commercial that made me think of consulting you about the theft of Shooting Star."
"That was your racehorse?"
"Yes, my prize two year old. We chose his name because he has a white marking on his left side that looks just like a shooting star." Harlow's change of expression as he discussed his stolen thoroughbred showed how deeply the loss had upset him.
"When was he taken?" Nancy asked.
"On the evening of July 4th. And I'm sure the timing wasn't just by chance!" Mr. Harlow explained that almost everyone at the ranch had been away that evening, watching the fireworks display at a small park down the road.
"Have you received a ransom demand from the thieves?"
"No, not a word of any kind. Which, of course, leaves the question of motive wide open."
Nancy knit her brows in a thoughtful frown. "Wasn't Shooting Star due to run in the River Heights Handicap?"
"Yes, and it wouldn't surprise me if that had something to do with the crime. I think I can fairly say that most racing experts regarded Shooting Star as the sure winner." An angry look flickered over Harlow's face as he added, "At least they did before he was stolen. Id like to get my hands on the crooks who did it!"
Nancy mused in silence for a moment, reflecting that Rainbow Ranch was on the edge of Brookvale Forest. "Haven't there been a number of burglaries in this area?" she asked. "I mean, from the large estates and country houses all around Brookvale Forest?"
"Yes." Mr. Harlow nodded. "No doubt you've heard the news reports about them. But those were robberies of money and other valuables. Stealing a big, strapping thoroughbred, sixteen hands high, is another matter altogether. I doubt very much that the same burglars would try to make off with a racehorse."
Their conversation was interrupted as the maid came to report a telephone call. "Mr. Traynor is on the line, sir."
Roger Harlow excused himself from Nancy. But a few minutes later, he returned to summon her to the phone. "When I told Tony you were here, he asked to speak to you," Mr. Harlow said with a smile. "I believe he has some news."
Nancy was slightly breathless as she lifted the receiver. "Hi, Mr. Traynor."
"Nancy, it looks as though this television assignment may happen even sooner than I expected," he began. "I've already proposed you as the model to the advertising agency executive who's handling the account. He's enthusiastic about the idea, but first the sponsor wants to see some stills of you. Could you possibly be at Rainbow Ranch again tomorrow morning—say around nine o'clock for some preliminary posing?"
"Of course," she promised, her heart beating a bit faster at the prospect. "I just hope I won't disappoint anyone!"
She heard Tony Traynor chuckle at the other end of the line. "Are you serious, Nancy? They'll flip when they see how perfectly you fit the role!"
The cinematographer added that she would be well paid for her time. But Nancy asked that any pay for the commercial be donated instead to the River Heights Animal Shelter, her favorite charity.
When she returned to the drawing room, she and her host continued chatting pleasantly for a while.
Mr. Harlow said that he would show her the stable from which Shooting Star had been stolen when she came to Rainbow Ranch to pose the next morning. He would also fill her in on the details of the theft at that time. "For now, I'm content just to know that you'll take the case," he said.
Nancy promised to do her best to solve the mystery of his stolen thoroughbred. Once again, she declined to accept any fee for her detective work. But Mr. Harlow insisted that he would at least reimburse her for any
expenses she might incur while investigating the case.
As she rose to leave, Nancy gestured toward an oil painting of a beautiful woman, which hung above the marble fireplace. "I can't help admiring that portrait," she told her host. "May I ask who she is?"
"My late wife Cynthia. That picture was painted almost twenty years ago. She died just last spring." From the catch in his voice, Nancy could tell how deeply Roger Harlow had loved his wife.
As Nancy walked toward the fireplace to study the portrait more closely, she was struck by the beautiful jewel that the woman was wearing as a pendant on a silver chain around her neck. "What a magnificent opal!" Nancy exclaimed.
Her host seemed pleased that she had noticed it. "Yes, isn't it?" he murmured. "I bought Cynthia that opal on our honeymoon in Australia, and she always treasured it above any other piece of jewelry she ever owned. We both loved it! In fact, that's how we came to name this property Rainbow Ranch—from the flaming colors of that very stone."
"Its a lovely name and a gorgeous gem!" Nancy responded.
She had barely returned home and walked in the front door when Hannah Gruen came bustling into the hallway.
"You're just in time, Nancy! Ned Nickersons on the phone!"
Nancy hurried to take the call, sensing that something serious had prompted it. "Hello, Ned," she said. "Has anything happened?"
"How did you guess? There's real trouble over that fire at the Grimsby Mansion!"
4. Strange Behavior
"What sort of trouble?" Nancy asked, although she could already guess the answer.
"Mr. Ullman's furious, " Ned replied. "He blames the film club's carelessness for the stable burning down. He says in all the years the house stood empty, there was no fire. But we were there one day and look what happened!"
Nancy was as dismayed as Ned at the realtor's attitude, but added, "I suppose we should have expected this. It does look bad for us. Ned, can we be absolutely sure it wasn't due to any negligence by the film club?"
"Positive! I told Mr. Ullman that none of us smoke, and there were no matches lit or anything else done that might have caused a fire. Tve checked with everyone in the group. Nevertheless, he's threatening to stop us from using the mansion."
Race Against Time Page 2
