“Because I am sure he is an honest man.”
“His line of work scarcely bears that out,” Mr. Simmons said. “I’m afraid we’ll have to send out a warrant for Silva’s arrest.”
“No, no! Please don’t do that!”
“Why not, Miss Barnett?”
“Because he had nothing to do with the loss of the necklace. Leo Silva is as worried over the theft as I am! If you arrest him, his business would be ruined.”
“You seem rather concerned over Mr. Silva’s future.”
“Why should I wish to see you destroy an innocent man?” Miss Barnett had tears running down her cheeks now. “I have told you the truth. My necklace disappeared during a séance at Silva’s, but I prefer to lose the diamonds rather than be subjected to unfavorable publicity.”
“I regret we cannot drop this matter until we’ve gotten to the bottom of it.”
“I’ll answer no more of your questions,” Miss Barnett said, standing to her feet.
Mr. Simmons got up from his chair.
“We’ll see what develops,” he said. “I’ll bother you no more for today.”
After the detective had gone, Miss Barnett paced nervously up and down the short length of the dressing room.
“The police are stupid!” she cried. “Stupid! What shall I do if they arrest Leo Silva?”
“I don’t see what can be done,” I said. “Are you really certain he did not steal your necklace?”
“Of course, I am. Let’s not talk about it, please. I am so upset. Tell me your plan for getting rid of the witch doll.”
“Well, it may not appeal to you.”
“I’ll do anything.”
“This is my little idea. I’ll keep the witch doll for you, but only upon one condition. You must agree not to tell anyone what has become of it.”
“That would be an easy condition. But aren’t you afraid to take the doll? My bad luck might be transferred to you.”
“I’m willing to risk it.” I tried not to smile. I walked over to the dressing table and picked up the ugly doll.
“I appreciate this more than I can say,” Miss Barnett said.
“Don’t thank me, yet. Wait until I accomplish results. However, I am certain that you won’t see this witch doll ever again. And don’t forget your promise. Tell no one that you gave the doll to me.”
“Not even Pauline,” Miss Barnett agreed.
I left for home with a brown paper parcel containing the witch doll. I was feeling very clever, but I suspected poor Mrs. Timms would be less than pleased to see this strange doll coming home to roost.
CHAPTER 17
I was not mistaken in predicting Mrs. Timms antipathy toward the witch doll.
“My goodness, I wish you hadn’t brought that ugly thing home,” she said. “What will you do with it?”
“Keep it, if possible.” I smiled. “If I fail, my reputation will be in tatters. This doll must not return to Miss Barnett.”
“How could it, unless you take it there?”
“Well, this little doll has a way of cutting capers when one’s back is turned,” I said. “But I aim to fool the old witch. I’ll not turn my back.”
I took the doll and perched it on the fireplace mantel, admiring the effect.
“I can’t have it there,” Mrs. Timms protested. “I don’t believe I could do my work with that ugly thing staring at me.”
“Then I’ll take it to my room.”
I took the witch doll up to my room, made her comfortable in a bureau drawer, and locked it. Then I tied the key to a ribbon and hung it around my neck.
“I’ll fight to the death before I’ll give up that witch doll,” I told Mrs. Timms, on my return to the kitchen. Mrs. Timms did not appear amused.
Later that evening, Florence telephoned to ask if I would care to go to a movie. It seemed that Rudolph Valentino—Flo’s soul-mate and future husband if she is to be believed—was starring in a new picture.
“I can’t go out tonight,” I said. “I’m working.”
“I thought you’d finished this next months’ installment of ‘Evangeline: The Horse Thief’s Unwilling Fiancée’?”
“Ah, yes,” I said. “Poor Evangeline. I had to leave her hanging just as her father finished declaring that the only man Evangeline has ever truly loved is a beggarly dog and that if she doesn’t agree to marry the dastardly villain—”
“Does Evangeline’s father know that the man he wants his daughter to marry is a dastardly villain?”
“Oh, no,” I explained. “The poor girl’s father has been completely hoodwinked by the fiend.”
“Where does the horse thief come in?”
“The villain is a horse thief.”
“Evangeline’s father wants her to marry a horse thief?”
“No, her father thinks the man Evangeline loves is the horse thief.”
“But Evangeline’s true love is not the real horse thief?”
“No, the villain is.”
Flo gave up. I didn’t blame her. The key to a successful serial is to confuse the reader as much as possible until the very last moment, when, inevitably, the villain is vanquished, and the heroine rides off into the sunset with her vindicated beloved.
“So why can’t you go out this evening?” Flo asked.
“I’m watching my bureau drawer!”
“Jane Carter! Have you lost your mind?”
“Not exactly, Flo. Come on over and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Flo came over, and I told her everything that had occurred at the Pink Lotus. Then I showed Flo the witch doll nestled in my bureau drawer getting her forty winks.
“I’ve had it four hours, now,” I said. “You’ll be amazed to hear it hasn’t even snored.”
I laughed. Flo did not.
“You may not think it’s quite so funny, later,” she warned. “I know I wouldn’t care to keep that thing.”
“Oh, Flo, we both know this doll doesn’t have any supernatural powers.”
“Then what makes it do such crazy things?”
“The answer is, it doesn’t. Some person is behind it all.”
“Do you suspect anyone, Jane?”
“No, not definitely. This case has so many strange angles. For instance, why did Miss Barnett defend Silva today? She’s hiding something, and the police know it, too.”
“From what you’ve told me of Silva, I’d guess he was the one who stole the necklace.”
“Miss Barnett doesn’t seem to think so. She’s a strange person, Flo.”
“You may be sorry you tried to help her,” Florence warned as she prepared to leave.
At ten o’clock I went to bed, but I couldn’t fall asleep. Dad was very late getting back from the Examiner office, and Mrs. Timms was sleeping out at the home of her great aunt who was feeling poorly. I was alone in the house.
I kept imagining that someone was tiptoeing down the hall outside my room. Every time a board creaked, I would sit up in bed and listen. When I did finally manage to fall asleep, I dreamed that I had turned into a witch and was riding through the sky astride my broom. I normally adore flying dreams, but not this one. When I woke up, I was pounding my pillow.
I had just finished my breakfast when Mrs. Timms told me that I was wanted on the telephone.
“I think Miss Barnett is calling.”
“Is this you, Miss Carter? I knew your idea wouldn’t work! It’s here again!”
“The witch doll has reappeared?”
I wasn’t entirely shocked, but I reached up to make sure the key to my bureau drawer was still on the ribbon round my neck.
“Yes, I came to the theater early this morning for a special rehearsal,” Miss Barnett said. “When I opened my dressing room door, there it was on my dressing table, its ugly face staring at me!”
“Hold the telephone a minute, please,” I said.
I ran up the stairs to my room two at a time. The bureau drawer was still locked. I fumbled with the key.
“You two-timing
old witch doll,” I muttered. “If you’ve betrayed me—”
But the doll was still in the drawer exactly where I had left her, deep in peaceful slumber. I rocked back on my heels and laughed. Then I raced back downstairs to the telephone.
“You’re mistaken, Miss Barnett,” I said. “I still have the witch doll.”
“But how could that be? I am sitting right here looking at it now!”
“You’re looking at another doll, Miss Barnett. Why the scheme is as clear as glass! Someone has been substituting witch dolls as fast as you throw them away.”
“Who would do such a trick?”
“I don’t know—yet. Will you be at the Pink Lotus very long?”
“Yes, for several hours.”
“I’ll come over and talk with you,” I said. “Try to get rid of Pauline, for what I have to say will be strictly private.”
“I’ll be waiting for you,” the dancer promised.
Bouncing Betsy was nearly run dry, so I wheedled my father into dropping me off at the Pink Lotus on his way to the newspaper office. I suspected from the tolerant way he smiled that he considered my activities slightly amusing.
“Just you wait, Dad,” I said. “I may get a big story yet!”
“I hope you do, Jane,” he said. “There may be more to this affair than I thought at first. For instance, that second robbery at Silva’s doesn’t look so good.”
“Second robbery?”
“You didn’t see the paper this morning?”
“No, I never glanced at it.”
“Last evening, during a séance at Leo Silva’s parlor, a wealthy patron lost a valuable wristwatch set with diamonds. She made a protest to the police, demanding the medium’s arrest.”
“Miss Barnett didn’t say a word about it.”
“She may not have seen the paper, yet. The story developed after I left the office late last night.”
“Well, the plot seems to be thickening,” I said.
Dad left me off at the curb, and I went into the Pink Lotus. I rapped on the door of the dancer’s dressing room. Miss Barnett called for me to let myself in. Helene was sitting in a chair, surrounded by pages of the morning paper. One look at her face told me that she’d heard about the second robbery at Leo Silva’s.
“Oh, Miss Carter, that evil spell is still at work! Have you seen this story in the newspaper? There was a robbery last night at Silva’s place, and the woman complained to the police.”
“Yes, that was what my father told me.”
“Will this mean Silva’s arrest?”
“Well, I couldn’t say. Considering that your necklace disappeared there, I’d judge the police would regard Silva as a suspect. He’ll probably be arrested.”
Miss Barnett began to pace the floor.
“They can’t do that!” she said. “It’s not fair! Silva had nothing to do with either of the robberies.”
“How can you be sure he is innocent?”
“Because—” Miss Barnett broke off, “—I can’t tell you, but I am certain. Please, Miss Carter, isn’t there anything you can do to help? Your father has influence—”
I shook her head.
“My father never interferes with the police. Miss Barnett, if you really wish me to help, why not tell the truth? You are hiding something.”
Miss Barnett avoided my gaze.
“Your story that the diamond necklace was lost at the Black Cat has been discredited,” I said. “What really became of your jewels?”
“I told Mr. Simmons the truth. They were stolen at Silva’s.”
“Then I can’t understand why you wish to protect the man. I should think you would cooperate with the police. Have you no interest in recovering the necklace?”
“Certainly, but not at the expense of Leo.”
“Leo?”
Miss Barnett’s face flushed.
“You seem well acquainted with the man,” I said. “Is he an old friend? A lover, perhaps?”
“Neither, please don’t ask me.”
“Very well, but in that case, there’s nothing I can do to help you. And I really believe that both you and Mr. Silva may need a friend before this affair has been sifted through.”
“I do need a friend. Perhaps, I have been unwise to withhold the truth. I did it because I wished to spare myself publicity. If I should tell you about Leo Silva, will you promise never to repeat it?”
“I can’t agree to such a condition,” I said. “But, I do promise to help you if I can.”
“You’ve been very kind.” Miss Barnett lowered her head. “I’ll tell you the truth—Leo Silva is my brother.”
CHAPTER 18
Miss Barnett’s revelation took me by surprise. It never had occurred to me that Miss Barnett might be related to Leo Silva.
“Why have you kept this matter secret?” I asked.
“I suppose it sounds very snobbish to say this,” replied the dancer. “The truth is that I was ashamed of Leo’s calling. I never approved of him taking up the work he did.”
“You believed that it might reflect upon you if it were generally known that your brother was a medium?”
“Yes, Leo long ago dropped the name of Barnett and called himself the Great Silva. Until last week, we had not seen each other for nearly four years. When our paths crossed here at Greenville, I naturally went to see him. One evening when I was at Leo’s place, I remained during a séance. Six other persons were there that night, and Leo wished me to fill in at the table. Not until after the lights were turned on, did I discover that my diamond necklace was missing. By that time, nearly everyone had left the parlor. Leo and I searched everywhere for the jewels. Finally, we were forced to conclude they had been stolen.”
“You should have told the police the true story.”
“I realize that now. However, I did not wish it known where I had been, and Leo was afraid he might lose customers if the public learned about the robbery. We talked it over and decided that it might be best to collect the five thousand dollars insurance and accept the remainder of the loss.”
“As it turned out, neither of you escaped unfavorable publicity.”
“Oh, we muddled everything,” Miss Barnett acknowledged. “This second robbery at Leo’s place will ruin him. We can’t understand it at all.”
“Did you know the persons who attended that first séance—I mean the time when your necklace disappeared?”
“No, they were all strangers to me. Leo tried to make a private investigation, but he’s had scant success.”
“May I ask you another question? Did your brother tell you about the séance which I attended? A voice cried out, ‘Beware! Your hour is coming, Leo Silva!’”
“Yes, he told me. Leo could not understand it, and neither can I. It was uncanny—that voice in the darkness.”
“Then it wasn’t a trick used to scare those who attended the séance?”
“Oh, no,” Miss Barnett said. “Leo has gained his effects by certain devices used by many mediums, but this was different. Leo’s nerves were so shattered that he went to bed for a day.”
“Tell me, do either you or your brother have any enemies?”
“I suppose everyone has enemies,” Miss Barnett replied slowly. “However, save for Leo, I do not know anyone in this city except the few persons I have met the past week.”
“And your brother? Has he lived in Greenville long?”
“Only a few months. He moves about from city to city.”
“Miss Barnett, I’ll do everything in my power to help you. Don’t you think it would be wise to tell the police everything?”
“I dread the publicity.”
“You will not escape it in any case. Already the police have discredited your story about being at the Black Cat. They might decide to take you to the police station for questioning.”
“Oh, that would be dreadful! Perhaps you are right. I will tell the police the true story, but will they believe me?”
“They should. Your sto
ry convinced me. By telling everything, you may save your brother from being charged with both robberies.”
“Leo had nothing to do with either of the thefts. He may have fooled people a little by telling them whatever they wanted to hear, but he would never stoop to robbery. Certainly not from his own sister.”
I was inclined to believe in Leo Silva’s innocence. I promised I would discuss the problem with my father, then stood to leave.
“What about that horrid witch doll?” Miss Barnett asked.
“I’ve proven to my own satisfaction that the doll has no supernatural power,” I said. “It’s clear that some person is responsible for its mysterious reappearances.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I—yet. But I have an idea. Just give me a few days, and I may have something important to report.”
I left the Pink Lotus and walked slowly down the street. I was so absorbed in my thoughts, I didn’t even turn my head at the toot of an automobile horn. A car drew up alongside me and tooted again. I jumped.
“Hello,” Flo called out. “Didn’t you recognize me?”
“Oh, hello, Flo! I didn’t hear your car sneak up.”
“Jump in and I’ll give you a lift home. Or better still, why not come along with me?”
“Where?” I got into the front seat.
“I’m on my way out to the Smith cottage. Mrs. Smith does beautiful mending. Mother sent some clothes for her to fix.”
“I’d like to go along only—”
“Oh, you can spare half an hour,” Florence cut in. “I’ll be back easily in that time.”
It was no use protesting. Flo drove on toward the river road. We carried the garments into the house. While I talked to Jeanie, Florence explained about the work to be done.
“I will have the mending ready in two or three days,” Mrs. Smith promised. “Your mother has been so kind, Florence.”
Just as we were ready to leave, there was scratching on the door.
“It must be Jeanie’s cat scratching to get in,” said Mrs. Smith.
The scratching continued, and Mrs. Smith went to open the door.
It was not Jeanie’s cat. It was a girl in a tattered dress, her eyes dazed, and her hands and face scratched by thorns.
“Could you give me something to eat?” Her voice was weak “I’ve had nothing for so long—”
Jane Carter Historical Cozies: Omnibus Edition (Six Mystery Novels) Page 10
