Jane Carter Historical Cozies: Omnibus Edition (Six Mystery Novels)

by Alice Simpson

  “What did you do?” asked Florence.

  “I slipped on my robe and ran to Mrs. Conrad’s room. She and her husband were already awake.”

  “They had heard the same noise?”

  “I suppose so. We all went together to room seven, but it had been locked from the inside. Mr. Conrad called to Mr. Harwood several times, but there was no answer.”

  “The man wasn’t—dead?” Florence gasped.

  “Mr. Conrad had a master key,” Emma went on, seeming not to hear Flo’s question. “He opened the door, but Mr. Harwood wasn’t there. His bed had been slept in, but the man had vanished!”

  “But his clothing was still in the room?” I asked.

  “Yes, nothing appeared to have been touched, but the window overlooking the river was open. That was all that seemed amiss, aside from an odd floral smell in the room. I thought that perhaps Mr. Harwood had spilled some aftershave, but Mr. Conrad gave me a very odd look when I suggested it. Both he and Mrs. Conrad claimed that they smelled nothing at all. Perhaps the smell was the reason the window had been left open. I can think of no other, as it was a very cool evening.”

  “Is it possible that Mr. Harwood deliberately jumped into the river?” Flo asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Emma replied. “But Mr. Conrad insists that there’s no question but that he did.”

  “You’re sure you heard a splash?” I asked.

  “Yes, but if Mr. Harwood’s body went into the river last night, I’m convinced he never jumped.”

  “And I agree with you,” I said. “How did the Conrads act when they discovered Mr. Harwood was gone?”

  “They were both terribly upset, especially Mrs. Conrad.”

  “Could they have been acting a part?”

  “I don’t believe so, Jane. Mrs. Conrad carried on dreadfully for quite some time. She was so ill over the affair, she stayed in bed nearly all of the morning.”

  “Has Mr. Conrad notified the police yet?”

  “I should say not! He said it would ruin him if the news was spread over the town. During the night, he drove Mr. Harwood’s car away somewhere, and he disposed of every item Mr. Harwood left behind in the room.”

  “He could get into serious trouble for doing that,” I said.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Conrad both warned me that I must never breathe a word of what happened last night. They have watched me almost every minute since.”

  “How did you get away just now?” Flo asked.

  “Mr. Conrad went away somewhere, and Mrs. Conrad lay down for a moment and fell asleep.”

  “She and her husband must be completely crazy to think they can hide anything like that from the police,” I said. “It looks as if what Thom Vhorst told us wasn’t idle gossip. This makes two people who have disappeared from room seven.”

  “Mrs. Conrad made me clean up the room this morning. While I was dusting and running the sweeper, I was so frightened my knees actually knocked together.”

  “Do you really believe that the eyes of the portraits move?” I asked. I was still disinclined to believe Emma’s story, but perhaps I shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss it as hysteria.

  “Perhaps they don’t really move,” Emma acknowledged. “But they seemed alive. While I was cleaning the room, I felt as if four pairs of human eyes were focused on me.”

  “Nerves probably,” Flo said.

  “I’ll be a wreck if I remain in that house very much longer,” Emma said. “Such sinister goings-on in there.”

  “It’s fairly easy to understand why Merriweather might have disappeared mysteriously,” I said. “He was carrying valuable jewels.”

  “You think the Conrads may have robbed him?” Florence asked.

  “No, I’m not venturing an opinion. But it does strike me that Mr. Harwood must have met foul play because he learned something which pointed the finger at the scoundrel responsible for Mr. Merriweather’s disappearance.”

  “Perhaps no person had anything to do with it,” suggested Emma. “I don’t believe in ghosts, but it seems to me we’ve run into something which can’t be explained. There’s an atmosphere about that house, especially room seven which defies explanation. If you were to stay there a day or so—”

  “I’d like to have a chance to do it,” I said. “But Mrs. Conrad won’t even allow me to get near the front door.”

  “One thing is clear,” said Florence. “After what has happened, Emma can’t stay alone in that house another night.”

  “I’m ready to go back to Greenville with you,” Emma said. “I’d prefer to starve than go on like this.”

  “Of course, we’ll be glad to take you with us,” I said, “only I have an idea—”

  “Don’t listen to it, Emma,” warned Florence. “Her ideas nearly always mean trouble for someone.”

  “This one might prove dangerous,” I admitted. “I haven’t any right to ask it of you, Emma.”

  “What is it you want me to do?”

  “When it becomes known that two persons have disappeared at Old Mansion, it will mean a big story,” I said. “Every paper in this part of the country will send reporters here, trying to get the inside facts. Now here is my idea: I thought if you could bear to stay on for a day or two, Dad would have an inside track on just what is happening. He’d pay you well for your work.”

  “I wouldn’t stay in that house another night for a million dollars,” said Emma.

  “I understand,” I said. “It wasn’t right of me to ask you to do it.”

  “I wouldn’t do it for a million dollars,” said Emma. “But I’ll do it for you, Jane, and for poor Mr. Harwood. The next few days are our best hope of getting to the bottom of what really happened.”

  I had underestimated Emma. I smiled at her.

  “If our plan is to succeed,” she said. “I must get back to the kitchen before Mrs. Conrad learns that I have left the house.”

  CHAPTER 14

  We left Emma behind to be our eyes and ears at Old Mansion and started out for Greenville.

  We had traveled seven miles or so when we came to a tributary of the Grassy River. As we crossed the bridge, Florence cried out. I slammed on the brakes.

  “What is it, Flo?”

  “See that houseboat half hidden by the willows?”

  I brought the car to a standstill on the bridge.

  “No, I don’t see anything.”

  “Far down the river, Jane. Almost at the bend.”

  “Oh, yes, now I do. There are dozens of houseboats in this river district. But it does have a green stack!”

  “That’s what I noticed. Could it be Mud Cat’s missing houseboat?”

  I pulled off at the side, and we waded through the dense bushes growing along the river bank. It was slow going. Burs and nettles clung to our stockings and skirts.

  “There goes yet another pair of shoes,” I said. “When I stepped off that log—"

  “Listen!” Flo commanded, halting.

  It was a gasoline engine.

  We scrambled through the bushes and briers, reaching the river just in time to see the houseboat vanishing far downstream. Already, it had traveled such a distance that we couldn’t get a good look at it.

  “That may have been Mud Cat’s stolen boat!” I said.

  “It certainly has a powerful engine. I never saw a houseboat slip along so fast.”

  We watched until it vanished beyond another bend. There was no hope of further pursuit. There was no automobile road along the river at this point.

  “I’ll send word to Mud Cat Joe just as soon as I can,” I said. “It would delay us too long to return to his place now.”

  “Yes, the houseboat may not belong to Mud Cat anyway. Even a green smokestack isn’t exactly conclusive evidence.”

  I wanted to tell my father about Mr. Harwood’s disappearance as soon as possible, so I took Florence home, and then went directly to the newspaper office.

  “Dad,” I said, “you have a new reporter on your staff.”


  “Meaning yourself?” Dad asked, brightening. Hope springs eternal, I guess.

  “No, Emma Brown.”

  Dad grimaced, but before he could protest, I told him about Mr. Harwood’s disappearance.

  “That’s a rather fantastical story, Jane!”

  “It is, but I’m certain it’s true. Did I do wrong in asking Emma to remain at the Conrad house?”

  “That was a stroke of genius, Jane. It gives us an inside track on the story. And it will be a tremendous one!”

  Dad pushed a buzzer on his desk. When an office boy thrust his tousled head in at the doorway, he said: “Send Jack Bancroft here.”

  “Dad, isn’t this definitely a case for the police?” I asked.

  “Yes, but I’d like to talk with the Conrads before the police take charge. After an arrest is made, we’ll learn only what the authorities wish to give out. I plan to accompany Jack over to White Falls immediately.”

  “You’ll need me along to show you the house,” I said.

  Before Dad could answer, Jack came in.

  “You sent for me, Chief?”

  Dad disclosed the bare bones of the case.

  “Get your hat,” he ordered the reporter. “We’re going over to White Falls to see what we can learn.”

  I acted as chauffeur—Dad doesn’t like to drive—and as we went along, he explained to Jack additional details of the case.

  “We’ll have to handle the story with kid gloves,” he said. “Jane may have been mistaken in her facts, but if she’s right, this is a chance for a big scoop.”

  We parked in front of Old Mansion. Dad sat in the car for a couple of minutes, looking at the house, then he went boldly to the door and rang the bell. Jack and I followed a few steps behind.

  After a long wait, Mrs. Conrad responded to the summons. She scowled when she recognized me.

  “Well, what do you want now?” she demanded of me, ignoring my father.

  “My name is Fielding—Anthony Fielding from the Greenville Examiner.” Dad stuck out his hand.

  “We’re not talking to any reporters,” Mrs. Conrad snapped. “Go away and leave us alone.”

  She started to close the door.

  “Just a minute, Madam,” said Dad. “Either you talk to me, or you talk to the police.”

  “The police—”

  “We have reason to believe that two persons have disappeared from your hotel under decidedly mysterious circumstances, Madam. Will you talk to us, or shall I send for the police?”

  “I’ll see you,” Mrs. Conrad said, “Come in.”

  She led us into the parlor. Before we could seat ourselves, Glen Conrad entered from the kitchen. He glared at his wife.

  “I couldn’t help it, Glen. They pushed their way right in. Said if we didn’t talk with ’em, they’d go straight to the police.”

  “So you’re responsible for this, you meddling upstart!” Mr. Conrad turned on me. “Trying to get us into trouble with the police!”

  “You are speaking to my daughter,” said my father. “Let’s omit the histrionics if you please. Tell us what became of Mr. Harwood?”

  “How should I know? He didn’t tell us his business when he went away from here.”

  “And when do you claim he left your house?”

  “Yesterday afternoon. He only stayed here a few minutes while he inquired about a friend of his.”

  “I think not,” I said. “Mr. Harwood’s car stood in front of the house the entire afternoon, as many of your neighbors will testify. During the night, after the man disappeared from room seven, you hid the car somewhere.”

  “That ain’t true,” Mr. Conrad retorted.

  “Falsehoods will get you nowhere,” Dad said. “Either you tell us exactly what happened, or I will go to the police. I’m not inclined to beat around the bush when a missing person is involved.”

  “Oh, Glen, tell ’em the truth,” Mrs. Conrad pleaded. “If the police come mixing in here, they might take us to jail! And it wasn’t our fault.”

  “Will you keep out of this, Earnestine? It’s your loose tongue that will get us in trouble.”

  But Mrs. Conrad could not be quieted. While her husband listened in grim silence, she poured out her tale.

  “We never did any harm to anybody. Everything was all right until that man Merriweather came here. He spent the night in room seven. When we went to call him in the morning, he had disappeared.”

  “Why didn’t you report to the police?” Dad demanded.

  “Glen said we’d be arrested if we did. We thought we would just keep quiet about it. But somehow the news got noised around White Falls. Thom Vhorst never did like us, and he saw a chance to start trouble. He kept gossiping. Then that man Harwood came here to inquire about his friend. We pretended like we didn’t know anything about a man named Merriweather, but he insisted upon staying overnight. Glen put him in room seven.”

  “Why room seven?”

  “Just to be contrary, I reckon. He knew it would plague me.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “During the night, Mr. Harwood disappeared just like his friend. We think maybe they both jumped into the river.”

  “Mr. Harwood certainly was not the type to do anything like that,” Dad said. “Have you had the river dragged?”

  “No, we didn’t dare. If we started dragging the river, folks would know something was wrong.”

  “They will realize it anyway,” said my father. “Surely you must know you can’t keep two disappearances secret. Your failure to report to the police tends to throw suspicion upon you.”

  “You don’t think we had anything to do with it!” Mrs. Conrad started to cry.

  “My opinion does not matter. However, I am afraid that the police will be inclined to question the story. As I say, your attempt to keep the matter secret may count heavily against you.”

  “But we only did it to protect our business,” Mrs. Conrad wailed. “No one ever would stop here overnight if they knew about those missing men!”

  “I agree with you there.”

  “How about taking a look at room seven?” suggested Jack.

  “See here,” Mr. Conrad sputtered, “we’ll not have you meddling—”

  Dad ignored him and asked Mrs. Conrad to show us to room seven. We followed her upstairs. While Dad and Jack inspected the room, I slipped away to find Emma.

  “How are things going here?”

  “Better, as far as I’m concerned,” Emma replied. “Mrs. Conrad is so upset, she’s not quite as bossy as before. Will she be arrested?”

  “I don’t know, but I assume both she and her husband will be wheeled off to jail just as soon as Dad reports to the authorities.”

  “In a way, it’s a shame,” Emma said. “The Conrads are a fairly odious pair, but I sincerely believe that they had nothing to do with whatever went wrong in room seven.”

  I hurried back to room seven. Dad and Jack had finished their inspection, and Mrs. Conrad was locking the door.

  “I appreciate your position, Madam,” Dad said. “I can see that premature publicity, in this case, might actually thwart justice.”

  “Then you’ll not go to the police?” Mrs. Conrad pleaded.

  “I can make no such promise. However, it is not my present intention to turn over this information to the authorities for at least twenty-four hours.”

  “I’ll do anything you say if only you’ll not expose us to the police.”

  “I shall expect you to give full cooperation to my reporter, Jack Bancroft. He may do a little sleuthing around here today.”

  “The neighbors may suspect—”

  “I don’t see what he expects to learn,” Mr. Conrad said. “Merriweather and Harwood jumped into the river. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”

  “A trifle too plain, perhaps,” said my father.

  We went back down to Dad’s car for a conference.

  “Well, Dad, what did you think of Mr. and Mrs. Conrad?”
r />   “I’m inclined to believe they had nothing to do with Harwood’s disappearance. But that makes the case so baffling.”

  “Will you notify the police?”

  “Not immediately. I plan to keep the whole thing dark for twenty-four hours, and then blow off the lid. There’s something sinister going on in that hotel, and if we’re lucky enough to learn what it’s all about, we should scoop every paper in Greenville!”

  “Just how are we going to learn what it’s all about?” Jack asked.

  “That’s where you come in, Jack, my lad,” he said. “Tonight, you’re sleeping in room seven!”

  CHAPTER 15

  “I’m sleeping where?” Jack was incredulous.

  “In room seven,” Dad repeated. “You’ll come back with a corking story.”

  “If I come back at all.”

  “You won’t force you to do it.” Dad was no longer smiling. “I know it’s a dangerous business, Jack.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “I thought you would, Jack. You’ll be armed, of course. I’ll station guards somewhere around the house.”

  “Isn’t that apt to give the whole thing away?” Jack asked. “It isn’t likely anything will happen if it’s known we’re watching the place.”

  “And the Times may get wind of it, too,” I added. “Then your scoop will explode like a soap bubble.”

  “Perhaps, you are right,” Dad said. “It would be better to have no guards in evidence, but I can’t let you take too much risk, Jack.”

  “Dad, I know how you could keep folks from suspecting that the house was being watched!” I said.

  “How?”

  “Give a big party there tonight. It would be killing two birds with one stone.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “For weeks, Dad, you’ve been saying you intended to entertain your staff. Old Mansion is perfectly spooky for a wonderful ghost party. Florence and I could plan all the entertainment and serve refreshments. Everything would appear just like an ordinary party. The townspeople won’t suspect what’s behind it all. While the party’s in progress, Jack could be keeping his eyes open. Also, if anything goes wrong while he was staying in that room, there would be any number of helpers at hand.”