Nancy Clue Mysteries 3 - A Ghost in the Closet

by Mabel Maney

  Frank smiled. "Sure, Joe, that's what you always say," he teased his younger brother.

  "Hey, I'm a busy boy with a lot on his mind," Joe bantered back.

  "I saw you eyeing Willy's cookies when you should have been double-checking our gear," Frank grinned knowingly.

  Joe said nothing because Frank was frankly right. "I try, to be levelheaded like you and Father, but I'm afraid I'm given to flights of fancy," he explained.

  "I'm not all that much like him," Frank quickly shot back.

  Joe was puzzled. Why, Frank was always comparing himself to their father. "You're cut from the same cloth, and you know it," Joe teased back.

  "Am not!" Frank insisted brusquely.

  Joe gasped. Why, Frank sounded almost angry! He stopped in his tracks and turned to face his brother. The two lads stood flipper to flipper while Joe looked queerly at his brother. He could detect a pained expression in Frank's usually affable hazel eyes.

  "Frank, you've been acting peculiar all morning," Joe declared. "What gives?"

  Frank bit his lower lip and look down at the ground. "Ever since Uncle Nelly told us the truth about Father, a million different questions have been racing through my head."

  "Mine, too," Joe admitted. He wondered, for example, if Grandfather Hardly was a girl, too.

  "Why did Father have to lie to us?" Frank cried out.

  "It wasn't really a lie, it was more like a fib," Joe pointed out. "And I'm sure he had a very good reason. I'll bet it's a matter of national security. Why, Father may be protecting us from something."

  "Yeah," Frank said bitterly. "The truth about who we really are!"

  Joe was puzzled. "We're the Hardly boys, Frank. Everyone knows that."

  "Joe, think," Frank cried. "If Father's a girl and Mother's a girl; well, don't you know what that means?"

  Joe thought for a moment. "No," he had to admit.

  "It means we're not really their sons! Joe, we're not the Hardly boys!"

  Joe gasped. "Are you implying that we're not the fruit of the family tree?" cried the lad.

  "We're probably not even brothers!" Frank was pulling no punches!

  Joe gasped. His eyes filled with tears. Not bank's brother? Why, he couldn't even begin to imagine not being Frank's brother!

  "You're making this up," Joe insisted. "Stop it, Frank, you're scaring me!"

  "Joe, has it ever struck you as peculiar that neither of us looks anything like Mother or Father, or anyone else in the Hardly family for that matter?"

  "So?" Joe replied. "That doesn't mean a thing. Our chum Chick Morgan doesn't look anything like his parents."

  "Chick was adopted, Joe. Like us!"

  Joe took his waterproof hankie from the pocket of his wet suit and tried to sop up the tears racing down his boyish cheek. "I won't listen to another word," he sniffed as he grabbed the lantern from Frank's hand and headed into the tunnel. "We're on an important case and I haven't time to stand here and listen to your silly ideas." He stomped away.

  "Hey, wait up," Frank cried. Joe slowed his pace but said nothing.

  "Joe, I'm just trying to get you to look at the truth," Frank insisted, "instead of living in that dream world of yours. The truth is Father-"

  Joe cut him off. "Frank, you don't know what you're talking about," he informed his older brother. "Of course we're their sons. Who else could we be?"

  "That's what I want to know," Frank said in a foreboding tone.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 42

  * * *

  I Before E Except After C

  Cherry paused at the doorway to Ward B to make sure her crisp cap was pinned securely to her mop of merry curls. "Aimless, you must keep your eyes and ears open at all times for anything unusual and not let on for a moment that you're here as an Undercover Nurse trying to find an entrance to some secret caves hiding dangerous kidnappers," she told herself, plastering an efficient smile on her face.

  Although Cherry was mighty worried about Nancy, she knew this was her only chance to search the sanitarium. Cherry was hopeful she could pick up some all-important clues on her own. "Especially since I'm the reason Nancy's not available for sleuthing," she thought glumly.

  She checked the sturdy nurse's watch on her right wrist. "It's one twenty-seven, which gives me exactly one hour and thirty-three minutes to race through my assignment and slip away to do some investigating. I wonder what my duties will be?" Cherry thought nervously as she opened the door to the ward and walked inside. A charming scene greeted her eyes. Ten nicely-dressed elderly women with freshly set hair were seated in comfortable chairs around a large wooden table, sipping tea and snacking on dishes of creamy sherbet and crisplooking sugar cookies. A friendly discussion of commonly misspelled words was underway.

  A cheerful, efficient-looking nurse with dark blond hair and shining brown eyes gave Cherry a big smile. "I'm glad to see reinforcements have arrived," she grinned.

  "Where exactly am I?" Cherry asked, explaining, "This is my first day on duty at this particular sanitarium."

  "You're in the Retired English Teacher's Wing, or Ward B, as it's more commonly called," the nurse informed her. "Starting from the far end of the table and working clockwise, that's Miss Vivian Valencia, Miss Betty Lingo, Miss Antonia Lefler, Miss Evelyn Hoover, Miss Zena Wallace, Miss Grace Smith, Miss Myrtle Allen, Miss Bernice Bloom, and our two Marys, Miss Pratt and Miss Meredith. I'm Head Nurse Fern Fiscus and I'm in charge of this boisterous gang."

  Cherry smiled. She could tell from the warm tone in her voice that Head Nurse Fern Fiscus held her patients in the highest regard. "I'm sure these ladies aren't at all difficult to handle," she said in a nurse-to-nurse tone.

  "Just watch your grammar," Nurse Fiscus warned. "The last nurse the front desk sent me asked Miss Lingo to'please go and lay down on your cot' and all heck broke loose!" The two nurses shared a knowing smile.

  Nurse Fiscus showed Cherry the rest of the ward. It consisted of the lounge; a separate sleeping chamber with cozy cots and bedside tables, each with a good reading lamp and a stack of novels; a bathing facility that looked sparkling clean; and a small nursing station stocked with the most upto-date medical conveniences.

  "The more I see of this place the more impressed I am," Cherry enthused. "This is a very sanitary sanitarium."

  "Our patients seem to find it very comfortable," the Head Nurse smiled. "In fact, a few of the patients came to the Institution as young women for treatment in the Career Gals Ward and upon retirement moved to this ward."

  "Goodness," Cherry said. This was the most confusing mental institution she had ever been in. "But back at Seattle General, we classify people according to their illness, not occupation," she blurted out before she remembered she was not to reveal any information about herself.

  "Here, we use Dr. Fraud's experimental therapies and approaches," Nurse Fiscus explained. "The female of the species is his specialty, you know. He classifies them according to type, like anxious adolescents, harried housewives, congenital career gals and so forth. Along with their private thriceweekly visits with Dr. Fraud, our patients receive supportive therapies especially designed for their group. There's Occupational Therapy, Hairdo Therapy, Hydrotherapy, Wardrobe Therapy, and for the very worst cases, Shock Therapy."

  "I've been involved in many applications of hydrotherapy," Cherry remarked, "and patients seem to find the hours spent in a tub with soothing warm water racing over their limbs quite refreshing."

  "It's a favorite among the ladies in this ward," Head Nurse Fiscus agreed, adding confidentially, "If you ask me, some of my patients aren't really ill; they're just bored."

  Cherry nodded sympathetically. She knew a great many people who were lonesome and suffered from social isolation. "It must be awfully hard to retire after an exciting lifetime spent teaching English," she murmured. She had a grand idea! "I'll bet what these ladies need is something interesting to do," she cried. For a moment Cherry forgot all about her all-important task of searching t
he sanitarium. "Let's have them write essays about the most influential person in their life, or given the choice, which animal they'd choose to be," Cherry suggested brightly.

  "Splendid idea," Nurse Fiscus cried. "We'll need essay books, some number two pencils and gold stars," she declared. She took a ring of keys from her pocket and gave them to Cherry. "Would you go to the basement storeroom and get those things? Just take the main stairs three flights to the bottom level, turn left and continue east until you find the door marked Storeroom. You can't miss it."

  "I'll be back," Cherry promised.

  What luck being sent right to the basement where the entrance to the tunnel must surely be! She skipped out of the room and raced down the three flights of stairs, past nurses in crisply starched uniforms carrying trays of medications to various destinations. "Now that I have an excuse for being down here, I'll take a few extra minutes to poke around and then explain to Head Nurse Fiscus that I got lost," she schemed a little guiltily.

  Ten minutes later, as she raced dizzily around the basement with its long winding corridors and numerous adjuncts, she realized she really was lost! Cherry had followed the head nurse's instructions to the letter and had quickly found the supply room. After filling her pockets with essay books, pencils and gold stars, she had ducked down a dimly lit corridor with a bright light at the end, thinking it might be the way to the tunnel entrance. She had instead found herself in another hallway, this one brightly lit, with black and white linoleum flooring, mint green walls and a steel door with glass windows threaded through with wire.

  "Why, this is the only part of the sanitarium that looks like a real hospital," Cherry thought as she crept down the hall way, thankful that her regulation nurse's shoes had silent rubber soles on them. She would hate to make any undue noise and interrupt an examination!

  "Perhaps this is where surgery is carried out," she thought as she peered through a window and saw a row of steel tables and trays of sterile surgical implements. "But why put it so far away from the other wards?" she wondered. Cherry suddenly remembered having seen a sign for the Surgical Ward on the second floor. "So what is this place?"

  The sound of muffled footsteps let her know she wouldn't be alone for long. She grabbed the door knob and, relieved to find the door unlocked, raced into the room and hid behind a pile of cardboard boxes marked Fragile. The footsteps faded away.

  Cherry jumped up to leave and clumsily sent the top box flying. She heard the sickening sound of glass breaking. When she opened the box, she was relieved to find only a few vials had shattered. "Maybe nobody will notice," Cherry hoped, "seeing as there are hundreds of vials in this box. I wonder what it is?" she mused, looking at the clear-colored liquid. Each vial was stamped with three letters.

  "LSD," Cherry read aloud. "It must be some new medication," she reasoned. She froze when she heard the footsteps again, only this time they were much louder. "Uh-oh," she thought. "I'd better not get caught creeping around." She set the box upright and scurried out of the room. In the hallway, she glanced over her shoulder and saw the distinctive shadow of a man with a cigar clenched in his teeth. He was about to turn the corner!

  "It's Dr. Fraud! If he finds me here, he might suspect something's up," Cherry thought worriedly. Another door a few feet away caught her eye. Cherry hurriedly found the skeleton key on the key ring, fit it into the lock, said a quick prayer and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard a click. She slipped through the door and quietly shut it behind her. She found herself in a dimly-lit stairwell.

  "Oh, no," Cherry thought when she realized she was holding a vial of the mystery medication in her hand. "What if he notices a box has been opened?" she thought worriedly. "What if I'm found sneaking around down here while Nancy has been unmasked and is in trouble? Is there a law in Illinois against impersonating a psychiatric patient?" she wondered.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 43

  * * *

  A Sad Case

  "This is no time to think, Aimless," she told herself. "You've got to get out of here-and fast!" Cherry pushed the door open a crack and looked out. The hallway was deserted. The only sound besides the loud thumping of her heart was that of Dr. Fraud's deep, booming voice.

  "Nurse Cramp, we are about to embark on an experiment that will free all of mankind from the confines of the human mind," she heard him say.

  Cherry listened eagerly. That was something she'd like to know about!

  "Yes, Doctor," Nurse Cramp replied. "Ward C is ready. The patients are looking forward to their vitamin shots," Nurse Cramp said with just a hint of gaiety in her voice.

  "Once it's been tested here, the whole of Lake Merrimen can have a taste," the doctor promised. "You see, Nurse, just a bit of this in the water supply will produce amazing results."

  "Phew," Cherry thought as she slipped the vial into her uniform pocket. "And I thought it might be something dangerous!" She took a deep steadying breath and opened the door, ready to make her escape, but jumped back when she saw Nurse Cramp standing in the hallway. She hoped desperately that she hadn't been spotted.

  "Even if she did see me, she'll never be able to pick me out from all the other nurses here," she told herself. "I'd better get back to the ward before I'm reported missing!"

  Hoping to find her way back to Ward B, Cherry scrambled up the narrow, winding staircase. To her consternation, the stairs kept spiraling upward. "I've climbed every stair there is to climb in all of Illinois," Cherry thought breathlessly when at last she came to a door. She realized she was in one of the twin towers flanking the Gothic-style mansion turned sanitarium. She fit the skeleton key into the lock of the old wooden door and flung it open only to find a sweet-faced middle-aged Private Duty Nurse sitting in an orange Naugahyde chair reading a magazine.

  "Oh, good, my replacement's here early," the nurse said in relief as she dropped the magazine onto a nearby table, slipped into her regulation nurse's sweater, walked to the modern elevator not five feet away and pressed a button. "I've never seen anyone come up the back way before. You must be quite an athletic girl," she remarked. "Well, anyway, her medication's on the tray. I've left you a stack of magazines. Help yourself to some candy. Bye."

  "Wait!" Cherry cried. "I'm not here to-" But it was too late. The nurse was gone. There was no one else on the floor; indeed, there were no other rooms!

  "Oh, no," Cherry thought, all in a tizzy. "Now I am trapped, for I can't possibly leave the patient on her own. But how am I going to explain what I'm doing here when the right nurse comes along?"

  Cherry shook herself to her senses. First and foremost, she was a nurse. "I'll check the patient's chart, dispense her medication and hope for the best," she decided.

  She opened the door to find a woman about her mother's age, clad in silk lounging pajamas and soft slippers, sitting in a chair staring out the room's lone window. The woman didn't look up when the door opened. She just sat there looking all alone in the world.

  Cherry's heart went out to the sad psychiatric patient. She scanned the simply furnished room for the woman's medical records, but didn't see any. "Excuse me, could you tell me where your chart is kept?" Cherry asked. She had no idea how many of the pink pills on the hallway table to give the patient.

  The woman turned her head and looked straight at her. "Where have I seen that pert little nose and determined chin before?" Cherry wondered to herself. "And she has such lovely strawberry blond hair-it's a pity no one's styled it recently."

  "Are you speaking to me?" the woman asked in a soft voice. "No one ever speaks to me. It's probably because I can't remember anything. I can't remember what day it is, or what I had for luncheon, or even my name." The woman's dramatic confession was delivered in a flat emotionless monotone. Her eyes seemed glazed over, as if she couldn't quite focus.

  Cherry walked over to the woman and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, but deep down she was disappointed. She would never find that chart now. It was clear, especially to a nurse of Cherry's vast
experience, that she had an amnesia victim on her hands!

  Cherry knew that light conversation on pleasant topics could be most helpful for amnesiacs. She searched her brain for something soothing to say. "I often can't remember the littlest things," Cherry confided. "And I'm a nurse!"

  This seemed to startle the patient, so Cherry tried a different tactic. "I like your outfit," she said.

  "It's very soft," the woman replied as she stroked the cream-colored fabric of her right sleeve, "but I can't remember what it's made of. Oh, I can't remember anything." Her bright blue eyes filled with tears. She turned away, clutching her hankie in her small white hands.

  Cherry touched her shoulder. "It's shantung silk," she told her. "I know because a friend of mine has two sets of shantung silk lounging pajamas. They're handmade and embroidered with her initials."

  "Shantung silk," the woman murmured.

  "Can you remember that?" Cherry asked her.

  "I'll try," the woman said. "I try to remember things, really I do, only everything sifts through my brain like sand. Oh, what's wrong with me? It's as if I'm in a fog! " She began to weep.

  "I mustn't let her get too excited, especially if she's past due for her medication," Cherry told herself. "I must say something to take her mind off her troubles. But what?"

  "I was in a fog once in San Francisco," she chattered brightly. "You see, I had gone there to visit my beloved Aunt Gertrude and along the way I met the nicest girls-" The patient visibly relaxed while Cherry told the story of her past adventures, taking care to omit any parts that might unduly frighten the frail-seeming woman, who fell back in her chair and closed her eyes.

  For five full minutes, Cherry talked, ending with, "-and then I met Nancy and we came here to Illinois and here I am."

  The patient shot straight up. "Nancy?" she cried. Then she put a finger to her lips and furrowed her pretty brow.