“I’ll call you tomorrow, Mr. Hall, just before I start out by car for Pine Top. It’s a three-hour drive, so I’ll call you early. You’re to signal by telephone at, say, nine A.M. That will give Lucy three hours’ notice.”
“Of course I’ll do it. But, Miss Vicki! Isn’t it dangerous for you, and for Lucy, too, to attempt this escape?”
She replied that Mrs. Heath might not be watching Lucy so closely in broad daylight. On the big grounds of the Glidden place, among its many trees and bushes, Lucy with her outdoors chores could quite naturally “wander” out of sight.
“If the plan doesn’t work”—Vicki caught her breath at the chance—“if anything goes wrong, Mr. Hall, then you’d better call the police.”
“How will I know your plan hasn’t succeeded?”
“When I drive back to San Francisco bringing Lucy, I’ll call you. That should be about three or three thirty. Four, at the latest. I’ll call you then. Or if there’s trouble at any point, I’ll try to phone you.”
“And if I don’t hear from you by four tomorrow I’m to call the police?”
“Yes, Mr. Hall. Thank you very, very much.”
“I don’t like it,” he said. “It’s dangerous—”
“I don’t like it much myself. But it’s the best we can do.”
They left it at that, and said good-by until the next day. Vicki felt grateful that she had someone like Mr. Hall to rely on.
In the fog Vicki found the airport’s bus stop. She rode back slowly over blurred roads and bridges. When she got off the bus in downtown San Francisco, the pavement seemed bottomless under her feet. She reached her hotel, glad to be indoors where there were lights. Though it was nowhere near noon, Vicki settled down in her room to wait for the Flight Supervisor’s call.
Waiting, the day seemed the longest of her life. Vicki did everything she could think of to pass the time. She read, she sewed a little, sent down for a sandwich, visited with a stewardess next door, read some more. At four o’clock the telephone rang. It was the Flight Stewardess Supervisor to notify Vicki that her request for extra time off was granted.
Vicki went downstairs to the lobby about five o’clock. The stewardesses of several airlines who stayed at this hotel had a favorite corner, where they looked for one another and exchanged flying news. This afternoon two girls in Trans-USA’s gray uniform were sitting there, having hot tea. Vicki knew them slightly; they were Peggy Bennett and Nancy Notaro.
“Hello, you look as if you’ve just come in from a flight,” Vicki greeted them.
“And such a flight! Grueling,” said Peggy. “Come sit down, Vicki.” She said they had flown by jet nonstop from New York, a five-and-a-half-hour run, starting at one thirty New York time that afternoon.
“The most demanding passengers you ever saw,” Nancy said, as Vicki joined them. “I admit that they were interesting people. But one young man nearly drove Peg and me out of our minds. A lawyer, I think.”
“He was awfully anxious to get here,” Peggy said to excuse him. “Our Boeing 707 didn’t go fast enough to suit Mr. Dorn.”
Vicki froze. “Did you say Dorn? Do you remember his first name?”
“I think it was Thurman,” said Nancy. “Why, Vicki, what’s the matter? Aren’t you feeling well?”
“N-no, I’m not. Was anyone traveling with Mr. Dorn?”
“He was alone. Vicki, you’ve turned white! Here, have some of this tea—”
“I think I’d better go to my room,” Vicki said, and excused herself.
Upstairs in her room she did some rapid figuring. Yesterday afternoon she had guardedly telephoned Dorn’s office in New York, giving her name as Mrs. Heath and then keeping silent. Today Dorn had taken the fastest plane he could board to San Francisco. His action could mean only one thing:
His suspicions were aroused by her telephone call. He probably telephoned his mother right back, learned she had not just called him—and learned about Vicki Barr’s surprise visit to the hidden house the night before. Mrs. Heath would have told him how Vicki Barr struck up a sympathetic acquaintance with Lucy. The woman had been disturbed about that; Dorn would be disturbed, too. Further, Mrs. Heath had probably told him that Vicki Barr had flown back to San Francisco earlier on the day of the faked telephone call.
So Dorn knew now that Vicki Barr was checking up on him and Mrs. Heath. He was certain enough of it to take the first plane to San Francisco, to come here and circumvent her. This was what Vicki had feared, and it had come true.
“What will Dorn do next?” Vicki wondered. “Steady, now. I mustn’t panic. Well, he’ll go to Pine Top, and take Mrs. Heath and Lucy out of there. Take them some place where I can’t find them again. This time Lucy will really disappear. And then Thurman Dorn will deal with me.”
She shivered. “Stop it,” she scolded herself. “I must try to think clearly.”
How soon, how fast, could Dorn reach Pine Top? The city was still wrapped in fog; so were its outlying highways, the radio reported. That meant Dorn could not fly or drive to Pine Top today, not with night closing in. He’d probably start out for Pine Top first thing tomorrow morning, weather permitting—just as she herself planned to do.
“Suppose I encounter Dorn on the highway while I’m driving to Pine Top?” She would have to disguise herself a little, and drive a closed car. “Or suppose he goes to Pine Top in a private plane—he’d arrive before I do. Will that ruin Lucy’s getaway, our getaway?”
At least she had one small advantage. She already had a car reserved. Dorn would encounter some delay in renting a car, or renting a private plane and the services of a pilot, since these were much in demand and often sold out in advance. Probably he would be able to hunt around and rent something, but it would take him extra time. Time!
When she went to bed, Vicki noticed that the fog had turned into a driving rain.
She rose very early Sunday morning. It was still raining hard. The radio predicted an all-day downpour and reported that roads were washed out in several localities. Motorists were advised to cancel their plans and stay off the highways.
“Oh, how awful!” Vicki thought. “Another day lost! Well, I’ll go to Pine Top tomorrow—I hope.”
She immediately made two telephone calls. One was to Mr. Hall, asking him to call Pine Top tomorrow instead of today. The other was to the car rental agency, changing her reservation to the next day. Then Vicki ventured out in the rain to attend church. She lived through the rest of that Sunday somehow.
Monday morning she again was up early. The weather was clear. She dressed quietly, without waking Jean Cox, tied a scarf over her head to conceal her light hair, and took along a bulky coat and dark glasses. These things were to make her less recognizable in case she met Dorn anywhere along the way. She took a scarf, sunglasses, and sweater for Lucy. Although she was too worried to feel hungry, she fortified herself with breakfast at one of the few restaurants open that early. Here she purchased sandwiches, and had the thermos bottle she had brought along filled with coffee. Now she and Lucy need not stop for lunch, lose precious time, make themselves visible in case Dorn was out looking for them.
That is, if she herself could reach the appointed place in the road without mishap, if Lucy could keep the rendezvous, if they actually could make their getaway.
Before she reached the car rental agency, Vicki put on the coat and dark glasses.
A sedan was driven out for her, with its gas tank filled to capacity. Vicki signed the necessary papers, paid a deposit, and then went to a telephone booth. She called the minister.
“I’m leaving now, Mr. Hall. Getting an early start. You’ll phone—signal—around nine?”
“Yes, at nine. I’ll be listening for your telephone call this afternoon to learn that you and Lucy are safe. Good luck, Miss Vicki.”
“Thanks, Mr. Hall. I’ll need it.”
O
ut on the highway traffic was light, and she made good time. Vicki kept watch in the rear-vision mirror to see if any car was following her, but so far, so good. Of course Dorn could be heading for Pine Top on any of several alternate roads.
The drive seemed a long one. It helped that she had twice flown over this Mother Lode country; the small towns and rivers were familiar landmarks and guides. But the car was slow compared to a plane, particularly when the land grew rolling and then hilly.
At twenty minutes before noon she was driving through Pine Top, and there still was no sign of a car or a private plane coming in from the same direction as she was. Vicki headed the car up the steep, winding hill which led to the hidden house.
She drove to the first sharp curve at the top of the road, found an area of trees a little off the road to provide some concealment for the car, and backed into it. Vicki turned off the ignition and waited. The birds were singing. The sun shone down on the empty road.
“What if Lucy doesn’t come?” Vicki thought. “What if she loses her nerve and doesn’t try? Or tries but can’t get out? The wooden door in the wall is kept locked—but surely somewhere she could find a place to climb over the wall.”
The minutes dragged.
“Or suppose she and Mrs. Heath have already left? Mrs. Heath had a rented car. Dorn could have phoned them to leave at once.” If only she could go close enough to the house to see and hear what was going on! Was Dorn there? Was Mrs. Heath keeping an extra close watch on Lucy?
Vicki got out of the car to stretch her legs. She wanted badly to venture around the bend in the road to see whether Lucy was coming—it was a minute or two until noon. But she stayed in the little enclosure of trees, half out of sight.
She heard a car coming up the hill. Vicki stepped behind her own car just as a black sedan whizzed by—the man driving was its only occupant. He had red hair. Thank goodness it wasn’t Dorn.
Suddenly a figure came running around the bend, hair flying. It was Lucy!
“Here I am!” Vicki hissed.
“Hurry! Where’s the car?” Lucy gasped. “Get in!”
They got in, slammed the doors, Vicki turned on the ignition, and tore out of her hiding place. They streaked down the steep road.
“Are you all right, Lucy? Is anyone else at the house?”
“No. A man is coming this morning—driving—he phoned Saturday night and Sunday morning. Mrs. Heath had me pack our suitcases this morning. Hurry, Vicki! Mrs. Heath is probably looking for me by now, and she has a car!”
They sped through Pine Top and onto the open highway. Vicki saw a car coming—any car coming might be Dorn. She kept on going, at the top speed allowed.
“Lucy, there’s a scarf and sunglasses on the seat. Put them on, cover up your face and hair all you can. How’d you get out?”
“I pretended to be gardening near the wall, climbed a tree, dropped onto the top of the wall, and scrambled down on the outside.” Lucy gave a shaky laugh. “I tore my stockings. I must be a sight. I didn’t bring even a purse or sweater or anything with me. Nothing except my family documents in the pocket of my dress.”
“That’s all that matters.” The silver ring was on Lucy’s hand.
“Mr. Hall phoned twice, around nine,” Lucy said. “Mrs. Heath got awfully annoyed at the ‘telephone company testing.’ She complained to me—but I’d heard the phone signal, anyway.” Lucy let out a long sigh of relief. “Where are we going?”
“Back to San Francisco. To catch a plane to New York.”
“Think we’ll make it to San Francisco safely?”
“We have a fast car, a good chance. Sit back and try to relax, Lucy.”
They rode for many miles in silence. Both girls were tense. After a while Vicki asked Lucy to open up the sandwiches and coffee. They had a hard time swallowing any food, and lapsed into silence again. Then Lucy said:
“If and when we get to New York, do you plan to take me to my grandparents?”
“Yes, we’ll go directly to the Bryants’.”
Lucy seemed fearful.
Vicki reproved her. “Besides, unless you want to go to the police, it’s the only place where either of us will be safe.”
Vicki omitted saying: “Provided we can reach the Bryants before Dorn does.” She did not want to frighten Lucy further. And Lucy was already nervous enough about facing her grandparents.
CHAPTER XI
Escape
At a gas station Vicki slowed down, looking around cautiously for any car which might be Dorn’s before she stopped. No sign of Dorn—yet. Vicki bought gas and did not linger. Out on the highway she picked up speed and said to Lucy:
“Now, listen to me. Mrs. Heath and her son are trying to keep you away from the Bryants and your rightful inheritance. They want the Bryant wealth for themselves.”
“But how could they? I don’t understand—who is Mrs. Heath’s son?”
“He’s Dorn, a lawyer your grandparents hired to find you—that was when Mrs. Heath was luring you out to the hills. Then when you were practically a prisoner, Dorn brought a girl he said was Lucy Rowe to your grandparents—”
“But I’m Lucy Rowe!”
“—and they’ve accepted her on his word and ‘evidence’ and because of the silver ring she wears.” Lucy gasped. “Their next step is to persuade you to go abroad and stay there. Now, this other girl, who’s in collusion with Dorn and Mrs. Heath, is living in your grandparents’ house and pretending to be you.”
Lucy burst into tears. “That’s terrible. Are you sure, Vicki? How do you know?”
“I met the girl at the Bryants’ house, that’s how I know. And I only hope,” Vicki said tensely, “that Dorn and Mrs. Heath don’t stop us from ever reaching New York.”
Lucy said, crying, “Even so, please let’s not go to the police. Not even to report them. I don’t want my grandparents to hear about me first from the police. I want to meet them in a—a happy way—”
“You shall. Don’t cry any more, Lucy. Don’t look so afraid. I think Dorn and Mrs. Heath’s main intent now is to reach the Bryants first with their story, before you and I do. They probably won’t waste time trying to stop us.” Vicki did not entirely believe this, but Lucy could not stand much more strain.
They were approaching the outskirts of San Francisco. Vicki stopped at a public telephone booth and called the minister. It was a little past three o’clock in the afternoon.
“Miss Vicki!” he said. “What a relief to hear from you! Are you all right? Is Lucy with you?”
“Yes, Mr. Hall. Here she is.” Vicki handed Lucy the receiver, whispering, “Be quick.” She moved away, but heard Lucy say:
“Oh, Mr. Hall, if only I’d listened to you!”
Lucy talked to him for a minute or two, then gave the phone back to Vicki.
“I’m going to try to get us on a plane to New York this afternoon,” Vicki said to him. “I think Federal Airlines will find room aboard for us. Please don’t worry, Mr. Hall. Thank you for everything. We’ll keep in touch with you.”
Vicki next called Federal’s reservations desk. As one of their stewardesses, she could fly free on vacation and, in addition, she could get a pass when she had the mileage coming to her. Luckily she had it now. Vicki pleaded for a seat for herself and one for her friend, Lucy Rowe. Since Vicki insisted this was an emergency, Reservations agreed to accept her check for Lucy’s fare and told her to go out to International Airport and wait. If, at the last minute, a flight had two seats still unpurchased or had two cancellations, she and Lucy were welcome to them.
First they returned the rented car, then traveled by taxi to the airport. In the rotunda Vicki and Lucy made themselves as inconspicuous as they could around a corner—Dorn and Mrs. Heath might walk through the terminal at any time! The two girls waited out one flight after another. Passenger traffic was heavy; not a single Fe
deral flight had space for them.
Vicki began to worry, and to grow tired and hungry. Lucy was drooping. Vicki went again and again to the reservations desk, reminding them, begging for seats. The evening wore on. By now, Dorn and Mrs. Heath had had ample time to drive from Pine Top to San Francisco and, as they themselves were doing, try to get space on a flight. Who was going to win this grim race? Finally, at ten thirty Reservations cleared Vicki and Lucy to go aboard a Federal DC-7 air coach. It wasn’t as fast a plane as the Electra, but at least it flew a direct transcontinental route. They would have to change planes at Chicago.
The two stewardesses were acquaintances of Vicki’s, and they were surprised to see her come aboard. Noticing how tired she and Lucy were, they brought them sandwiches and hot coffee once they were aloft, and then blankets. The two girls were too exhausted to say or think another single thing. They fell asleep and slept through the quiet night flight.
Next thing Vicki knew, a stewardess was shaking her. “Wake up, Vic. We’re coming in at Chicago in five minutes.”
Vicki awakened Lucy. It was half dark and cold as they left the plane, two bedraggled figures, and boarded another plane. Take-off time was seven A.M. The girls slept again. At ten thirty A.M., New York time, they landed at Idlewild Airport. A Federal crew car gave them a ride into Manhattan. Vicki asked to be let off at the apartment she shared with several other stewardess friends. It was just as well that no one but their housekeeper, Mrs. Duff, was at home.
CHAPTER XII
The Silver Rings
“I can’t meet my grandparents for the first time looking like this,” Lucy said. “I know it’s important for us to get to them before Mr. Dorn does, but it’s important for me to look nice, too.”
“Don’t worry,” Vicki said, “I’ll lend you some clothes. You go shower and change now. I will, too, but first I must make some telephone calls.”
She telephoned La Guardia Airport and asked for the “Lost and Found” Desk.
“Hello, this is the Federal Airlines stewardess,” Vicki said into the telephone, “who turned in a gold charm, inscribed Dorothy. One of my passengers lost it. Can you tell me whether anyone has ever claimed it?”
The Third Girl Detective Page 74
