“I wanted to talk to him. Will he return soon?”Penny moved inside the door.
“When he goes off, I never know when he’ll get back. He went to the bank, I guess.”
“On Sunday?”
“Al’s had a lot of work lately. I tell him he ought to let up. He’s getting so jumpy he doesn’t sleep at nights. Just tosses and keeps me awake.”
Before Penny could ask another question, a boy of ten, who had Albert Potts’ sharp features, came racing across the yard up to the door.
“Has the bicycle come yet, Ma?” he shouted.
“No, it hasn’t, and I wish you’d quit pestering me!” she snapped. “There won’t be any deliveries today.”
To Penny, the woman explained: “My husband bought Eddie a new bicycle and he won’t give us any peace until it comes. Deliveries take such a long time these days. None of the things we bought have come yet.”
Penny did not mean to be inquisitive, but instantly it struck her as unusual that the Potts’ family should be indulging in a sudden orgy of spending. Nor had she forgotten the couple’s hasty departure from the Gay Nineties club.
“Eddie is getting quite a few new things, I take it,” she observed casually.
The woman became more friendly. “Oh, yes, my husband ordered a trapeze set for him, and an electric train. But he bought me a lot too! A new piano and a living room rug. We have a new refrigerator on order, a vacuum cleaner and a bedroom suite!”
“Imagine!” exclaimed Penny. “Your husband must have come into a small fortune.”
“He was given a raise last week at the bank. I don’t know exactly how much, but it must have been a big one, because Al says we’ll have enough now for everything we need.”
“I think I’ve seen you before, Mrs. Potts,” Penny remarked, seeking additional information. “Weren’t you at the Gay Nineties last night?”
“Yes, we were! But we didn’t stay long. Before we had ordered our dinner, my husband remembered an important appointment he had made. We had to leave suddenly. It was awfully disappointing. I never went to a night club before and I wanted to see the show!”
Mrs. Potts paused, obviously waiting for Penny to leave. “I’ll tell my husband you called,” she said. “You didn’t give me your name.”
Edging out of the door, Penny pretended not to hear the latter remark. Calling over her shoulder that she would try to see Mr. Potts at the bank next day, she retreated before the woman could learn her identity.
Walking toward the bus stop, the girl reflected upon what she had learned. The financial good fortune of the Potts’ family was very puzzling. Apparently the bank secretary’s salary had been increased since the disappearance of his employer, Mr. Rhett.
“It seems a queer time to raise the man,” she mused. “If his duties have become so much heavier, I suppose the bank board may have granted a compensating wage increase. But it must have been an enormous one to enable him to buy everything in the stores!”
As Penny waited at the street corner for a home-bound bus, she saw one approaching which was headed for the outlying section near the Rhett estate area. Impulsively, she decided to go there to see Lorinda.
“I may not get into the house,” she thought. “My luck is running badly today. Anyway, I’ll give it a try.”
It was nearly four o’clock by the time Penny alighted from the bus and walked to the Rhett estate. Her heart sank as she noticed that curtains were drawn in nearly all of the front windows of the house.
“No one here,” she thought. “Lorinda and her mother may have left town to escape questioning by reporters and the police.”
Because she had come so far, she knocked on the front door. No one came. Giving it up, she wandered around the house, into the garden.
Curiously she gazed toward the thatched roof cottage, wondering if anyone were there. The whispered warning she and Salt had heard the previous day, remained unexplained. She longed to investigate, yet hesitated to trespass.
As she debated, Penny observed a small column of black smoke rising from amid the shrubbery. Someone apparently had built a bonfire on the beach.
Seeking the steps which led down to the river, Penny presently saw that her guess was correct. A small fire of driftwood had been built on the sands. Lorinda, in slacks and an old sweater, was so engrossed in feeding the flames that she did not hear when her name was called.
Descending the steps, Penny hastened to the beach to join the Rhett girl. Lorinda did not hear the approaching footsteps. Deeply absorbed in what she was doing, she stirred the flames with a stick until they leaped merrily.
Then, from a paper sack she withdrew a queer wooden object which even from the distance Penny could see was a doll. Its body appeared to be tightly wound with scarlet thread.
Lorinda held the doll gingerly in her fingers. She stared at it a moment, shuddered, and then with a gesture of abhorrence, hurled it into the crackling flames.
CHAPTER 12
SUPERSTITION
Penny quickened her step. “Lorinda!” she called again.
The girl at the bonfire whirled around. Seeing Penny, she gave the wooden doll a shove with the toe of her shoe, trying to bury it beneath a pile of burning wood.
Penny was not to be so easily deceived. Reaching the fire, she asked directly: “Lorinda, what in the world are you doing?”
“Why, nothing.”
“You’re burning something you don’t want me to see!”
“It’s nothing. Just an old doll.”
The wooden object had not yet caught fire, and Penny could still see it plainly.
“Why, it’s an effigy doll!” she exclaimed, then observing the face clearly, she added in a shocked voice:“A likeness of your mother!”
The scarlet string around the doll’s body caught fire, and soon tongues of flame began to consume the wood. Only then did Lorinda speak.
“Now it is destroyed! But I cannot so easily destroy the evil that threatens my mother!”
“Why, Lorinda! What do you mean? Why are you burning this doll?”
Lorinda sank down on the sand, her eyes upon the fire. “I hadn’t intended anyone to know. You swear you will never tell Mother?”
“Of course not.”
“I found this doll in a downstairs coat closet. You saw for yourself that it was an effigy of Mother and that it was wrapped with string?”
“Yes, but I fail to understand its significance.”
“That scarlet wool string is known as a life-thread. Each day a little of the thread is unwound until finally it all is gone. Then the person dies.”
“Not your mother, Lorinda! Surely, you don’t believe such a crazy superstition!”
“I don’t,” Lorinda answered, her voice barely above a whisper. “But Mother will if she learns about the doll. That is why she will die, unless I can do something to break the spell.”
To Penny the words seemed fantastic, but she realized Lorinda was deadly in earnest and convinced that she was speaking the truth.
“Let’s get to the bottom of this, Lorinda. How did the doll come into the house?”
“I only wish I knew. Obviously, it was brought by someone who hates my mother. The doll was carved in her image, and no doubt deadly basiko and dayama incantations were chanted as the string was wrapped tightly about the body.”
“Who told you all this lingo?” Penny demanded suspiciously. “Your stepfather?”
“I learned a little of it from him,” Lorinda admitted,“but most of my knowledge came from Celeste and Antón.”
“Superstitious natives!”
“Laugh if you like, but this form of dark magic which is practiced in the jungles, is a sort of hypnotism. The victim weakens and dies because he believes that he is doomed.”
“Then the antidote is simple. Just don’t put any stock in such rot.”
“Easily said, but the victim always believes.”
“You think your mother will put faith in all this?”Penny scoffed.
“A very sensible act. The doll is destroyed. We’ll keep this strictly to ourselves, and the spell is broken!”
“You make it sound very easy.”
“Your mother hasn’t seen the doll?”
“No, I only found it a few minutes ago.”
“Then she’ll never hear about it. Haven’t you any theory as to how the effigy got into the house?”
“No,” Lorinda replied, after a slight hesitation.
“Would your stepfather have had a hand in it?”
“Oh, I don’t think so! It would be such a vicious, wicked thing to do!”
“He and your mother always got on well together?”
“No, they had frequent disagreements,” Lorinda admitted, squirming uncomfortably. “All the same, my stepfather was not a cruel man.”
“Do you have utter confidence in Antón and Celeste?”
“They have been fairly efficient servants. Mother always has treated them well. What reason could they have for hating her?”
“I’m sure I can’t see any. Yet someone brought the doll into the house after carving it in your mother’s image.” Penny thought a moment, and then asked: “Could the Zudi drum have anything to do with it?”
“That angle occurred to me,” Lorinda nodded. “From the first, I’ve been afraid that natives would trail my stepfather here and try to revenge themselves upon him for taking the drum.”
“Celeste and Antón are not members of the Zudi cult?”
“No, else they never would have aided my stepfather in acquiring the drum. I understand he never would have heard of it if Celeste hadn’t told him of its existence.”
“It’s all a queer puzzle,” Penny commented. “While I suppose it’s possible natives could have followed your father to America and now seek revenge upon his wife, such a theory doesn’t quite ring the gong.”
“Celeste thinks we should get rid of the Zudi drum. Unless we do, she’s convinced Mother will die a slow lingering death.”
“Celeste seems to have implanted quite a few ideas in your mind,” Penny observed dryly. “If you ask me, I should say she’s a sinister influence on the household.”
“Oh, Celeste means no harm. And the last few days since my stepfather disappeared, she’s been very devoted to Mother, waiting on her as if she were a baby.”
“Your mother must be terribly worried. You’ve heard nothing from your stepfather?”
“Not a word. Mother cries half the time, and this morning she refused to leave her room. Even now I’m afraid she is ill.”
“Now Lorinda!” reproved Penny. “I’m afraid you’re the one who has become hypnotized by that doll!”
“I hope it’s just that I’m silly, and that there’s nothing to it. But I’m afraid—terribly afraid.”
Penny picked up a stick and poked the dying embers. She could find only a charred piece of the doll left on the fire. Flames soon consumed it.
“There, it’s gone!” she exclaimed. “Take my advice, Lorinda, and forget this entire incident. Don’t tell your mother, Celeste, or anyone.”
Lorinda scrambled up, brushing sand from her slacks.
“All right, I’ll do as you say,” she agreed. “This shall be our secret. At any rate, by burning the doll, I should have put an end to its evil.”
Extinguishing the few remaining flames by covering them with sand, the girls slowly climbed the steps. Penny inquired whether or not the police had called at the mansion. Lorinda told her that they had spent nearly two hours questioning Mrs. Rhett.
“By the way,” Penny remarked as they approached the house, “do you know Albert Potts?”
“My stepfather’s secretary? I’ve met him a few times. Why?”
“He was quite a favorite with your stepfather, I suppose?”
“A favorite?” Lorinda chuckled. “On the contrary, he couldn’t stand him! Potts was always at his elbow, trying to tell him what to do, and what not to do. In his way he was efficient—too efficient, if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” agreed Penny. “That was why I was surprised to learn he had been granted a substantial salary increase after your stepfather disappeared.”
Lorinda turned her head quickly. “A pay raise? By the board, you mean?”
“I don’t know who gave it to him.”
“I can’t imagine anyone giving old Potts a raise, certainly not the board. The members meet only once a month, on the fifteenth. Of course, it’s possible a special session was called because of my stepfather’s absence.”
“That may have happened,” agreed Penny. “At any rate, Mr. Potts seemingly has come into money.”
Rounding a twist in the path, the girls came within view of the mansion terrace where Mrs. Rhett, in white, reclined.
“Why, Mother is downstairs!” Lorinda exclaimed in surprise.
The woman did not see the girls until they were very close. But as they reached the terrace, she raised her eyes, and smiled in a brief, sad manner. Penny instantly noted the pallor of her face.
“I appreciate your efforts, Lorinda,” she said before either of the girls spoke. “But it is useless.”
“What is useless, Mother?” inquired her daughter.
“I saw smoke rising from your fire on the beach.”
Lorinda glanced quickly at Penny, laughed nervously and said: “Oh, that! I was burning a little driftwood.”
Mrs. Rhett held her daughter’s eyes in a steady, knowing gaze.
“It is useless to try to deceive me,” she said quietly. “I know you burned the doll.”
“Whatever gave you such an idea, Mother?”
“I know,” replied the woman with quiet finality. “First the burnt match ends and now the doll! My life thread is reaching its end, and I shall slowly weaken and die.”
CHAPTER 13
MISSING FROM THE CHEST
“Mother, how did you learn about the wooden doll?” Lorinda gasped. “And where did you get such a crazy idea that you will weaken and die?”
“I have known it ever since my husband went away.”
“But that’s impossible!” cried Lorinda, fairly beside herself with anxiety. “I’m sure the doll wasn’t in the house until today. Someone is putting these notions in your head! Is it Celeste?”
“Celeste is doing her best to help, but there is nothing she can do,” Mrs. Rhett said sadly.
“Mother, snap out of this! You’re worried about Father and it has made you morbid. Nothing will happen to you. The doll has been destroyed, and in any case, we know it’s only a stupid effigy.”
Dropping her head wearily on the chair back, Mrs. Rhett smiled and said nothing. Closing her eyes, she relaxed for a moment. Penny and Lorinda thought she might be dropping off to sleep, so they moved quietly away.
Mrs. Rhett’s eyes opened then and she said: “Oh, Lorinda!”
“Yes, Mother.”
“There’s something I wish to mention—about my will.”
“Your will?” the girl repeated with distaste. “Why talk about that—now of all times!”
“There may be no better time,” Mrs. Rhett said. “As you know, my will is kept in the safe. It leaves this house and nearly all of my property to Hamilton.”
“Let’s not talk about it,” Lorinda pleaded nervously. “At the time you made the will, we decided it was very fair.”
“I thought so then, because you have substantial income in your own name. Hamilton, on the other hand, has nothing—scarcely a penny except his salary at the bank.”
“You were right in leaving money to him, Mother. I never objected.”
“The situation has changed now,” Mrs. Rhett continued. “My husband may never return. If I should die suddenly, the estate would be left to him, but he might not appear to claim it. To my knowledge, he has no relatives. It could all become an awkward legal muddle.”
“You certai
nly are borrowing trouble, Mother! Father will be found, and everything will be the same as before.”
“I wish I could think so, Lorinda.”
“Forget about the will.”
Mrs. Rhett shook her head. “I think I shall change it. And soon. However, at this moment, I don’t know how I wish to dispose of some of my property. Nearly everything I own is tied up in real estate.”
The woman arose, and remarking that she had a severe headache, started into the house.
“I’ll lie down for a little while,” she murmured. “I feel so weak and tired.”
Lorinda waited until her mother was well beyond hearing. Then she turned to Penny with stricken eyes.
“You heard what she said! She must have learned about that hideous doll from Celeste!”
“But how did Celeste know of it? You told her?”
“Oh, no! But Celeste has a way of knowing everything that goes on in this household. What ought I to do?”
“If I were in your place I would get rid of Celeste and Antón. Send them packing!”
The suggestion seemed almost shocking to Lorinda.
“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” she answered. “In the first place, my stepfather would be furious if he returned and found them gone. Secondly, I doubt that they would go on my orders. They’re very independent.”
“Then I don’t see what you can do.”
“If only my stepfather were here! Unless he returns soon I’m afraid something dreadful will happen to Mother. Did she look well to you?”
“Well—” Penny hesitated, and then said truthfully:“She seemed pale and listless. But one can understand that, considering what she has been through.”
“I heard her give orders about her food this morning. She told Celeste she would have trays served in her room, and no food is to be cooked with salt.”
“Is that especially significant?”
“My stepfather once told me natives who believe a hex or ouange have been put on them are afraid to eat salted food. The salt is supposed to turn to poison in their bodies!”
Penny would have laughed had the matter not been so serious.
“Lorinda, you’re as superstitious as a little savage!”
“I don’t believe such a thing myself,” the girl denied. “But Mother apparently does. She always was afraid of everything remotely connected with cult practices. She never wanted my stepfather to have books on the subject in the library, yet recently I saw her reading them.”
The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels Page 167
