The Nancy Drew Sleuth Book

by Carolyn Keene

  Mr. Drew chuckled. “I’ll be glad to, Nancy. Are you working on an interesting mystery?”

  “We are,” Nancy replied, and told her father about it. Then she gave him the Rushmores’ phone number and hung up.

  She returned to the living room and told the others about her hunch. Since Nancy was known to have good hunches about solving mysteries, the girls were not surprised. For the next ten minutes they discussed the case, then the phone rang.

  Nancy hurried to answer it and was delighted to hear her father’s voice. “Any news?” she asked.

  He said he had good news. The Mount Rushmore sleeper was indeed in the railroad yard. “It’s in the back where the old cars are kept that are only used in emergencies. I got permission for you to inspect it. Go to the office and see Mr. Vasey. He’ll be glad to open the car for you and let you look around.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” said Nancy. “We’ll go right now.”

  Two automobiles were used this time, since Honey’s mother wanted to come along. Nancy led the way to the railroad yard. She and Mrs. Rushmore parked, then the detectives walked to the freight station. Mr. Vasey, a pleasant, gray-haired man, greeted them in his office.

  “You’re Nancy Drew’s group?” he asked.

  Nancy nodded. “My father made arrangements with you to let us search the Mount Rushmore sleeper.”

  “Correct. I’ll take you there myself.” He turned to Mrs. Rushmore. “I understand you rode in that particular car a year ago and lost a valuable cameo.”

  “That’s right.”

  Mr. Vasey said he was sorry and hoped they would find the pin, although he knew the car had been thoroughly searched at that time.

  He spoke to his assistant, then said to the visitors, “Follow me.”

  Mrs. Rushmore and the girls trailed after him through the railroad yard, around cars, and along several aisles. Honey remarked that she had never seen so many tracks in her life. Finally they reached the car they were looking for. Mr. Vasey unlocked the door for them.

  “When you finish your work, just pull the door shut,” he said. “It will lock itself.”

  He walked off, and the Detective Club entered the sleeper with Mrs. Rushmore. The girls hurried along the aisle with facing seats on each side and hidden beds under bulging partitions above them. They took in every detail of the interior.

  “This car is really old,” Peg remarked. “The wood is beautiful, and look at all those decorations! You don’t see any of that in modern railroad cars.”

  Nancy asked Mrs. Rushmore whether she had slept in an upper or lower berth.

  “A lower,” Honey’s mother replied. “As I told you, there weren’t many people on the train, and as far as I remember, only a few of the upper berths were used.”

  Nancy said, “Then that eliminates our having to look in the upper area.”

  Honey asked her mother which of the seats she had occupied.

  “I’m not sure,” Mrs. Rushmore replied, “but I know it was on the right side, behind the engine, and about halfway down.”

  Nancy suggested that the club members divide up for a search. Some of them should look on the floor under the seats; others could inspect the seats themselves.

  Eagerly the group set to work. Several of them chose seats near the middle of the right side and tugged and pulled until they got the cushions up. The girls were doing exactly what the porters do, making them into beds.

  “Anybody want to take a nap?” Karen quipped.

  Peg answered, “I never sleep without sheets and a pillow, and I don’t see any.”

  “They’re probably kept in the upper berths, which are closed in the daytime,” Nancy said.

  “Where did the passenger occupying the upper berth sit?” Martie asked.

  “In the seat facing the one Mrs. Rushmore had,” Sue replied.

  The search went on for some time, but nothing was found. Apparently, the car had been thoroughly swept and vacuumed.

  Honey was disappointed. “I was hoping so much that we’d find Mother’s cameo,” she said.

  Nancy urged her not to be discouraged. “We’ve only started!” she pointed out.

  Just then an elderly African American man walked into the car. He had a round, pleasant face and curly gray hair.

  When Mrs. Rushmore saw him, she exclaimed, “Oh, you’re Kalef. You were my porter while I was on a trip last year.”

  The man shook hands with her. “Indeed, I was,” he said. “And I remember you. You’re Mrs. Rushmore—one of the nicest ladies I’ve ever helped.”

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Rushmore said, and introduced the girls. “Are you on another train now, Kalef?” she asked.

  “No. As a matter of fact, the trip with you was the last one I made. I’ve been working in the office ever since.”

  Kalef went on to say that he had asked to serve this particular car because he had been born near Mount Rushmore. “That’s why I remember your name,” he told Honey’s mother. “Every time I get a chance to see this old car, I walk up and down the aisle. It reminds me of my boyhood and my days as a porter.”

  “Did you know I lost my valuable cameo on that trip?” Mrs. Rushmore asked.

  “Yes. I’m sorry about that. The police interrogated everyone who had been in the Mount Rushmore sleeper, and so did the insurance people. But we didn’t find your pin.”

  “Is there anyone else who might know something about it?” Nancy asked. “Anyone who was in the car after you arrived in River Heights, but before the police came?”

  Kalef scratched his head. “River Heights was the last stop. But now that you mention it, someone did come in for a moment.”

  “Someone you knew?”

  “Yes. I know him well. He’s one of the switch-men out in the freight yard.” Kalef paused, then added, “But if you’re thinking that he’s a thief, I’m sure you’re wrong.”

  “But he might give us a clue,” Nancy said. “Would you mind taking us to him?”

  “I’ll be glad to,” Kalef said.

  They left the car, pulling the door shut to lock it.

  “Now, you be careful,” the man warned. “This is a dangerous place. Be sure to look in all directions.”

  The girls promised to and set off with him.

  Suddenly Kalef stopped short. “I just had an idea. Once a year they have an auction over in the warehouse. It’s for unclaimed articles lost on trains or in the station. Today they’re having one. Maybe your cameo is there, Mrs. Rushmore, and you could claim it!”

  “The police and the insurance company asked the Lost and Found department last July,” Mrs. Rushmore replied. “It had not been turned in.”

  Kalef shrugged and went on at a fast pace. He was ahead of the group when he disappeared behind another car. As the detectives hurried to catch up to him Peg suddenly screamed. “Look out!”

  A trainman’s work car was coming toward them at high-speed. To the girls’ dismay, it was switched onto the very tracks they were walking on!

  “Oh!” Martie cried out. She seemed frozen to the spot.

  Nancy grabbed her hand and yanked the girl along with her. “Jump!” she yelled.

  The others leaped across the track. They were none too soon. The conductor of the work car had seen them, but too late to brake to a stop. If the girls had not moved quickly, they would have been run over!

  “Oh, dear!” Mrs. Rushmore exclaimed. “I had no idea there would be such danger!”

  “It’s my fault,” Nancy told her. “I promised we’d all be careful.”

  By this time Kalef had run back. He looked in horror when he realized what might have happened and was about to argue with the conductor of the work train, but Nancy cut him short.

  “Never mind. Take us to see the switchman, please.”

  Again the group followed Kalef, but now they looked in all directions before proceeding. A few minutes later, he led them to the switchmen’s tower. A tall, blond fellow was just coming down the iron steps.

  “H
i, Rogers!” Kalef called out. “Some folks here want to see you.”

  The man stared at the group in puzzlement. “They want to see me? Why?”

  “To ask you a couple of questions.”

  Nancy waited for Mrs. Rushmore to speak, but when she said nothing, the young sleuth smiled at the switchman. “We’ll only keep you a minute. We’re the Detective Club. We’ve been spending all morning trying to find a piece of jewelry that was lost a year ago in the Mount Rushmore sleeper. Kalef said that you had briefly been in the car before the police and insurance company searched it. Do you by any chance remember seeing a cameo brooch?”

  The man was thoughtful for a moment. “Wait a minute. That rings a bell—yes. I picked one up from the floor. Can’t remember when or what car it was. But it could have been about a year ago. Put it in my pants pocket and forgot all about it. Weeks later my wife found it when she took the pants to the cleaner. I took it over to the Lost and Found department.”

  A trainman’s work car was coming at high speed toward the girls!

  “It might have been my cameo!” Mrs. Rushmore said excitedly.

  “If you hurry to the warehouse where the auction is,” Rogers said, “you might be able to get hold of it. I had no idea that it was worth anything, or I’d have turned it in right away. I’m sure the police asked Lost and Found for it at the time. Oh, I hope you’ll get your pin back!”

  Nancy asked where the warehouse was.

  “It’s too dangerous for you to get there crossing the tracks,” Kalef said. “You’d better go back to the street and drive down. Stay alongside the fence until you come to a road that leads right to the warehouse. You can’t miss it.”

  The group thanked the men and dashed off. In a few minutes they arrived at the auction. To their dismay, many people were walking out of the building with packages under their arms.

  “I hope the auction isn’t over yet!” Honey said worriedly.

  The girls and Mrs. Rushmore went in and found seats in the fourth row. On a platform ahead of them, the auctioneer was saying, “I have a hundred. Do I hear a hundred and ten?”

  There was silence, then he continued, “I think you people don’t realize the value of this beautiful cameo. It’s worth much, much more. Come now, who’ll give me a hundred and ten?”

  “Mother, is it yours?” Honey whispered loudly.

  “I can’t tell,” Mrs. Rushmore replied. “It’s too far away for me to recognize.” Her throat felt dry, and her voice was hoarse with tension.

  The next instant Nancy called out, “One hundred and ten. And may we see the cameo? We came in late.”

  The auctioneer looked at the group and held the pin up. Then he said haughtily, “I’m sorry, but the viewing is over. We must get on with this. Ladies and gentlemen, I have a hundred and ten bid. Do I hear a hundred and fifteen?”

  Mrs. Rushmore was beside herself. “Ladies, keep on bidding! We must get that cameo. It looks just like mine!”

  “I have a hundred and ten bid,” the auctioneer repeated. “Do I hear a bid for one hundred and fifteen?”

  A man across the room called out, “One hundred and fifteen!”

  The girls groaned. How much higher would they have to go?

  The auctioneer said, “A hundred and fifteen. Do I hear a hundred and twenty?”

  “A hundred and twenty!” Peg called out.

  In his singsong voice the auctioneer continued to push up the price five dollars at a time. Whenever Nancy’s group thought they had the bid, the man across the room would put in a higher bid.

  Finally, the man bid a hundred and forty-five dollars. Once more the auctioneer pleaded with the audience.

  “This exquisite cameo—why, it’s a crime to even think of paying that small amount for what it’s worth. Come now, who will give me a hundred and fifty dollars?”

  Nancy offered to pay that much, and everyone waited for her opponent to go higher. But no matter how much the auctioneer pleaded, the man apparently had reached his limit.

  “One hundred and fifty,” the auctioneer said. “One hundred and fifty. Going—going—gone! Sold to the young lady who bid one hundred and fifty dollars. Please come forward with the money and take this beautiful cameo!”

  Nancy looked at Mrs. Rushmore, who was rummaging in her purse. Then the woman went ashen white. “I don’t have that much cash, and I forgot my checkbook. Girls, how much do you all have with you?”

  Everyone counted, but together it came to no more than a hundred and twenty dollars.

  “Step up, please,” the auctioneer urged. “We must get on to the next item!”

  As he turned to pick up a large package Nancy rushed toward the platform. Mrs. Rushmore and the girls stared in surprise. What was she going to do?

  Fortunately, Nancy had tucked a couple of blank checks into her wallet. Now she walked to the desk where the purchased items were given out.

  “Will you take my check?” she asked the man in charge.

  “Yes, as long as you have identification. Your driver’s license will be required.”

  Nancy nodded and wrote out the check. Then she handed it to the man along with her license. He copied the number and her address on the check, then gave the license back to her.

  “And here’s the pin,” he added, handing her a small box. “Good luck!”

  Nancy hurried back to her seat, hoping the cameo was the one Mrs. Rushmore had lost. The woman opened the package with shaking fingers.

  “It’s mine!” she murmured. “It’s the queen’s cameo! Oh, Nancy, how can I ever thank you for solving this mystery?”

  Before Nancy could reply, Martie spoke up. “I’m very happy you got your property back. But I think it’s a shame you had to buy it!”

  “And I’ll have to reimburse the insurance company,” Mrs. Rushmore added.

  Nancy leaned over and took the woman’s ice-cold hand into her own. “Perhaps you didn’t know this,” she said, “but the sign up there says that all money taken in at the auction will be put into the special fund for widows and orphans of railroad men who have lost their lives in the line of duty. Why don’t you just call the hundred and fifty dollars a donation to that worthy charity?”

  Mrs. Rushmore’s tearstained eyes looked into Nancy’s. “Oh, you’re wonderful, my dear. I’ll do that.”

  ACTIVITY

  Nancy suggests that readers look in local newspapers under the Lost and Found columns and see if they can find any mysteries to solve.

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE MYSTERIOUS FORTUNE-TELLER

  Palm Prints

  “GOOD morning, Mr. Drew,” called out the members of the Detective Club. Sue added, “This is wonderful, having you speak to us.”

  Martie said, “And Nancy told us you’ll give us a real case to solve.”

  Nancy’s tall, handsome father smiled as he stood at one end of the living room facing the circle of girls before him. “Yes. I understand you have progressed so well in your detective work, I’ll give you a real challenge. Are you ready?”

  “Oh, yes!” the girls replied.

  “The Rest-a-While Motel here in River Heights asked me to do some legal work for them, but there’s also another problem you ladies could take care of.”

  Martie put up her hand. “Mr. Drew, isn’t the Rest-a-While that motel up the river a ways?”

  The lawyer nodded. “It has been open less than a year and is in a rather secluded spot. This is probably why certain guests like to stay there. The manager, Mr. Schwinn, suspects that a couple who registered as Mr. and Mrs. Tonio are fortune-tellers.”

  “How exciting!” Peg exclaimed.

  “It’s also against the law in River Heights,” Mr. Drew pointed out.

  Nancy asked, “Dad, why is Mr. Schwinn suspicious of these people?”

  Her father said that a number of callers had gone to the couple’s room. “There were strange people coming in and out at all hours of the day and night. Mr. Schwinn suspects that Mrs. Tonio charges them for
telling their fortunes and has a thriving business going on in his motel.”

  “Would strange characters be going there just to have their fortunes told?” Sue asked.

  The lawyer smiled. “That’s what I want you to find out, if you can. I have no other information at this time. Now it’s up to you. Let me know each day what you learn.” He said good-bye and left the group.

  Nancy took her father’s place. The blackboard she had used so often was brought in, and the girls noticed that on it was the sketch of the palm of a human hand. Various sections had been marked with letters of the alphabet, and below was an explanation of what each one meant.

  “Girls,” said Nancy, “please get out your notebooks and make a drawing of your own palms on one of the pages. Then copy the lines and letters from the blackboard.”

  As soon as her friends had finished making outlines of their hands, Nancy explained:

  “The fleshy humps on the lower end of each finger and the side of the hand from the little finger to the wrist are mounts. You’ll notice lots of wrinkles in your palm. These are called lines. The lines and mounts are supposed to tell about your character and the kind of life you have lived. Also, according to fortune-tellers, they show what will happen to you in the future.”

  Honey spoke up. “Do these mounts have names?”

  “Yes,” Nancy replied. “They’re named after the planets. The one under the thumb is known as Venus. Below the index finger is Jupiter, under the middle finger Saturn, then Apollo and Mercury. On the outer edge of the palm under Mercury is Mars, and below it is the Moon.”

  Cathy giggled. “Seems we have the whole universe in our hands!”

  Nancy grinned. “Now, let’s look at the lines. The most important ones are indicated on this drawing. I hope you will memorize all these things because you never know when it will come in handy to know them—perhaps even tomorrow!”

  Mounts of the Hand

  Venus—Charity, love, beauty.

  Jupiter—Religiosity, ambition, love of honor, pride. On the negative side—arrogance, pompousness.