“And look at this,” Nancy went on, pointing to the window cords. “Both sash cords are broken. Even if they were old, they wouldn’t both break at the same time. And if this was natural wear and tear, the cords would be frayed. These have been cut clean through.”
“Someone wanted the window to fall,” said George uneasily.
Nancy nodded slowly. “I think so. And here’s another thing.” Nancy stood up and held out her hands.
Bess touched Nancy’s fingers. “Ew! Your fingers are all slippery. What’s on them?”
“Some kind of lubricant from the cords,” Nancy said. “They’ve been oiled to make them slippery. Someone wanted the window to fall fast and hard, so the glass would shatter. This was no accident.”
“What about the other accidents Rose told us about?” Bess said slowly. “Do you think they were deliberate, too?”
Nancy shrugged and returned to the window. “That’s what we have to find out.”
“But who would do this?” George asked. “Could it have been Charlie? Rose said he had just repaired the window.”
“He’s the logical suspect,” Nancy admitted. “We don’t have any proof or any motive for him. But we’d better find out fast. If these accidents continue, Rose or Abby might get hurt.”
They heard a knock, and Hannah came in. “Rose told me about the accident,” she said, looking worried. “Were you girls hurt?”
“We’re all fine, Hannah,” Nancy assured her.
Hannah shook her head. “Poor Rose. There’s just one problem after another in this old house.” She looked at Nancy. “We need to keep Rose’s spirits up. I suggested she take us for a drive and show us some sights. You’ll all come along, won’t you?”
The girls agreed, but Bess said she needed to change her clothes first. “I want to soak my dress right away so the tea stains don’t set,” she said.
Nancy and George went downstairs to explore the house until Bess, Rose, and Hannah were ready to leave.
Behind the glass door at the rear of the entry hall, they found two small anterooms, like little hallways. From the first one, a broad carpeted staircase led down into darkness. From the second, a narrow set of worn wooden stairs led up.
“I bet this used to be the servants’ stairway,” said George, peering up the narrow staircase. “And maybe these other stairs lead down to the basement saloon.”
Nancy fingered a latch on the inside of the door that led to the downward staircase. “It’s odd that the latch would be on this side of the door,” she commented. “Maybe the hotel owner needed to lock off the saloon during certain periods of the day. Anyway, let’s go down and look at it.”
She and George made their way slowly down the dark staircase. At the bottom, the stairs opened into a huge room. A little sunlight filtered in through small, high ventilation windows.
The saloon seemed to run the length of the house. A long bar with a mirror behind it stretched across one end. A few tables and chairs, a small stage, and a grand piano occupied the room.
Nancy and George walked over to the mahogany bar. “What a beautiful mirror,” Nancy said, pointing at the bar’s huge mirror, which had birds and flowers etched into its frame.
In the mirror, Nancy saw a movement behind her. She turned to spot Abby slipping furtively away from the piano. “Abby!” said Nancy in surprise.
Abby whirled around. “When did you girls come in?” she asked sharply.
“Just now,” said Nancy, wondering at Abby’s rude tone. “What are—” Nancy’s question was interrupted by a honking horn outside.
“That’s probably Rose. It must be time for you to go,” Abby said.
She’s trying to get rid of us, Nancy thought.
“Aren’t you coming with us, Abby?” George asked.
“No,” Abby said in a testy voice.
“Well, we’ll see you soon, then,” Nancy said. She and George headed for the saloon stairs. When Nancy looked back, Abby was still standing in the center of the room, watching them.
Upstairs in the entry hall, George said softly to Nancy, “What was Abby doing down there? She definitely wasn’t happy to see us.”
“I thought the same thing,” Nancy murmured.
George grinned. “Uh-oh. You’ve got that let’s-figure-out-this-mystery look,” she said.
Nancy smiled. “Guilty.”
They stepped outside, where Rose, Hannah, and Bess were waiting in Rose’s red car. George climbed into the backseat with Bess.
Just as Nancy was about to follow, something caught her eye across the street. A blond teenage boy wearing an old army jacket stood on the sidewalk, hands jammed into the pockets of his ragged jeans. When he saw Nancy notice him, he turned swiftly and walked away.
Nancy narrowed her eyes and watched him go up the street. Then she climbed into Rose’s car.
Rose drove her guests through the Alamo Square Historic District, where there were many Victorian houses painted in all the colors of the rainbow. At a tall hill called Twin Peaks, they got out of the car to admire a panoramic view of the city.
They drove back through huge Golden Gate Park, with its museums, playing fields, lakes, and wooded areas. Rose pointed out an enormous tent standing in a meadow. “That’s the pavilion for the Winter Festival next Sunday,” she said. “Louis is on the planning committee. We’re going to help at his booth.”
Next, Rose suggested they stop for an early supper. She took them to the Land’s End Inn, a popular spot set atop a rocky cliff overlooking San Francisco Bay. “What a view,” Hannah said, pausing on their way inside. “But you couldn’t get me in that water. It must be freezing!”
Indoors, Hannah and Rose made a quick stop at the powder room. While waiting for them, the girls wandered through an exhibit on old San Francisco in the restaurant’s lobby.
“Look at this,” Bess called to Nancy and George. They joined her in front of a group of antique photographs. All the pictures on that part of the wall showed a full-figured woman with blond curls. Bess was reading a framed article on the wall next to the pictures.
“This is Lizzie Applegate. She was an entertainer in the gold mining camps,” Bess said. “A bandit called El Diablo fell in love with her. Then one day Lizzie disappeared, and apparently she joined the bandit’s gang in robbing stagecoaches!”
Nancy and George grinned at each other. They knew Bess loved any kind of romantic story.
“What happened to Lizzie?” Nancy asked
“She showed up in San Francisco and became an actress,” Bess said, scanning the article. “She wrote a play called The Bandit’s Treasure about an outlaw just like El Diablo. Later she opened a hotel, but it burned down in a fire. Gee, I would love to live a life as exciting as hers!”
“Oh, really?” George eyed her cousin skeptically. “Camping out with a gang of thieves in the wilderness? No bath or shower for weeks at a time?”
“Maybe not that part,” Bess admitted. “But I’d like the part when the bandit fell in love with Lizzie and when she became a famous actress.”
Soon Hannah and Rose returned, and the five of them were seated at a window table. They watched a gorgeous sunset while they ate a light dinner of soup and salad.
When they got back to the mansion, just after seven, a silver sedan was parked out front. “Louis is here!” said Rose, her face lighting up. “Wait until you meet him, Hannah.” Rose quickly checked her hair and makeup in the rearview mirror.
Inside, the mirrored door to the first parlor was open. As they walked in, Nancy saw Abby and Charlie standing in the second parlor, staring at one of the walls. Beside them was a silver-haired man dressed in a dark gray suit.
“Louis,” Rose began, moving forward with a big smile. “I want you to meet—” Suddenly she stopped and gave a cry.
Nancy, Bess, and George followed her into the second parlor to see what Abby, Charlie, and Louis were staring at.
The wall was sopping wet from floor to ceiling, with water still trickling down
it. The rosepatterned wallpaper hung down in strips.
Abby turned and glared at the girls in fury.
“What happened?” Nancy asked.
Charlie muttered something, then limped from the room. Louis turned to Rose. “Charlie came in to board up the window in the Chinese Room,” he said. “He found a flood there. The water went through the floor and ran down here.”
Abby’s eyes were flashing. “I went out,” she spat out. “When I came back … destroyed! I just spent the whole afternoon wallpapering, and now all my work is ruined!”
“But how did this happen?” Nancy asked again.
“Someone left the water running in your room upstairs,” Abby sputtered angrily. “The sink overflowed. Someone didn’t remember to turn off the faucet!”
Nancy’s heart sank. She recalled that Bess had been soaking her dress upstairs just before they left the house. She looked over at Bess.
Bess’s eyes grew wide. “No!” she protested. “No! I know I turned off the water. I know I did!”
3
The Figure in the Fog
Bess’s frightened eyes traveled from Nancy and George to the wet wallpaper to Abby. “I turned off the water! You have to believe me!”
“Of course we believe you, Bess,” Nancy said, giving Bess’s hand a little squeeze.
“Yes, Bess, of course. It’s just …” Rose faltered, looking around helplessly. Finally she tottered back into the first parlor and sank down onto one of the couches, covering her face with her hands. “What next?” she whispered.
Coming to sit beside Rose, Louis took her hands in his and began to speak to her softly. Abby stormed up behind them.
“Rose,” Abby said sharply. “They can’t stay in the Chinese Room now. The carpet up there is soaked through, and there’s glass all over the floor. But we have no other room ready for them to sleep in.”
Nancy had the feeling that Abby would have liked to send them back to River Heights on the next plane.
“The girls can stay in my room with me,” Hannah offered quickly.
Rose lifted her head. “The Blue Room has that big bed in it,” she said, her voice weary. “The room hasn’t been painted yet, but it’s clean.”
Abby threw up her hands. “Fine, the Blue Room then,” she said to the girls. “There’s only one bed, but it’s a large four-poster. Two of you can share it, and we can move the cot. Follow me.”
In silence, Nancy, George, and Bess trooped behind Abby, heading up the stairs and down the hall. Abby stopped at a linen closet, yanking out pillows, sheets, a blanket, and a quilt. Without a word, she thrust them at Nancy and George, ignoring Bess’s open arms.
Down the hall, right next to the flooded Chinese Room, she opened another door. “The Blue Room,” she said. “You can bring your bags over.” Then Abby strode away.
“That’s what I call the silent treatment,” Bess complained, her voice quavering. “She wouldn’t even look at me.” Nancy slipped a comforting arm around her friend’s shoulders.
The Blue Room was clean, but that was about it. Strips of faded blue wallpaper hung down off the walls. The floor had bare, worn boards. The furniture was all antiques—a four-poster bed, a dark wood bureau topped with green marble, and a large mirror. Through an arch on one side, a small nook held a writing desk and a shabby armchair.
George tossed a sheet at Bess. “Make yourself useful, cousin,” she said. “And stop worrying. We know you didn’t leave that water on.”
Nancy stuffed a pillow into a pillowcase. “I doubt the flood was an accident anyway,” she declared.
Bess looked up from the sheet she and George were spreading across the large mattress. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“I think someone deliberately turned on the tap in the sink,” Nancy explained.
“But who?” George said.
“Abby and Charlie both were here,” Nancy noted.
“Abby? Why would she sabotage her own house?” George asked, grabbing the blanket.
“I don’t know,” Nancy admitted. “But she was sure in a hurry to blame us for the flood.” She paused, thinking. “What we need is a motive. We need to figure out why anyone would want to create these accidents.”
Bess tucked in the blanket at the foot of the bed. “Remember when Rose told us that someone else made an offer for the house?” she said. “Maybe that other person wants the house so bad, he or she is trying to drive Rose and Abby out.”
“Good point, Bess,” Nancy said. “Someone may really want the bed-and-breakfast project to fail, so they’re staging a series of phony accidents to make Rose and Abby give up and sell the house.”
“But, Nancy, there must be other Victorian mansions,” George said. “Why this one?”
Nancy shrugged. “Maybe there’s something about this house we don’t know,” she mused.
Bess clasped her hands together. “Yes! Some mysterious, tragic secret from the past!”
“Oh, please,” George scoffed.
Nancy smiled. “I think Bess is right—in principle anyway,” she said. “Maybe there is some secret about this house.”
“Rose said it was once a hotel,” George said.
“E. Valdez owned the land in the 1800s,” Bess remembered. “Then the Armstrong sisters lived here.”
“How can we find out more?” George asked.
“We could go to the library,” Nancy answered. “And I bet Louis can help us. He’s an expert on the Victorian period.”
“Sounds good. Let’s go find Louis,” said George, heading for the door.
Bess held up a hand to stop her. “Uh, before we dive into research, how about diving into something to eat?” she suggested. “That salad at the restaurant was good, but it wasn’t exactly filling”
“Actually, I’m a little hungry myself,” George admitted. “Let’s check out what’s in the kitchen.”
Bess winced. “I’d hate to ask for food right now,” she said. “Rose is upset, and Abby’s mad at me. But how about that Chinese restaurant we saw on the corner?”
“Sounds good,” George agreed. “Let’s just move the cot first.”
When the girls finally went downstairs, they found Rose and Hannah in the kitchen. Louis had just left, and Hannah was baking blueberry muffins for breakfast. The two older women smiled when they heard the girls were hungry again and told them to enjoy their Chinese food.
It was a short walk to the restaurant. When they entered, Nancy immediately felt as if she were in another country. Chinese scrolls decorated the walls, and the tables were set with elegant sea green china. But the focal point of the room was an immense mantel set over the fireplace, painted a Chinese red. With its large wings and ornately carved wood, the mantel looked like a pagoda, an ornate entrance to some mysterious temple.
“Look at the woodwork on that bird,” Bess said, nodding at the graceful bird carved into the wood at the top of the mantel.
“Hey, Nancy, it’s a phoenix,” George said.
“A phoenix?” Bess asked.
Nancy nodded. “A mythical bird,” she explained to Bess. “Supposedly, after living five hundred years, it set fire to itself and died, then rose from the ashes to live again.”
Bess raised her eyebrows. “Been thumbing through the encyclopedia again?” she teased.
Nancy laughed. “Lieutenant Chin told George and me about the phoenix when we worked with him on Emily Foxworth’s case,” she said. “It’s a San Francisco symbol. In its early years, the city burned many times, but each time it was rebuilt, just like the phoenix rising from the ashes. You’ll notice that the police wear a phoenix symbol on their uniforms.”
Nancy, Bess, and George ordered their meal. As they were finishing, a teenage girl in a pink sweatsuit and running shoes came to their table to clear the dishes. Her long black hair was pulled back under a sweatband and her face was flushed. “Just been out running?” George asked her.
The girl grinned and nodded. “My mom hates me to work in my runnin
g clothes,” she said, “but sometimes I barely have enough time to get in a run, much less shower and change.”
George smiled. “I know what you mean,” she said. “Say, maybe we could run together sometime. We’re staying right down the street.”
“That’d be great! I’m Mary Lee,” the girl said. “My family owns the restaurant. I work here part-time while I go to school. When are you—”
Suddenly she stopped, her eye caught by something out the front window.
Nancy followed Mary’s gaze. Outside was the same blond teenage boy she had seen earlier.
Seeing Mary, the boy gave a little wave. Mary saw him, bobbed her head, then threw him a meaningful glance toward Nancy, George, and Bess.
Mary looked flustered all of a sudden. “Um, what was—oh, yes, your check,” she said distractedly, lifting a stack of dishes. She spun around and hurried off to the kitchen.
Nancy looked back out the window, but the boy had disappeared. It was obvious that Mary knew him, Nancy thought. But why did she react so strangely when she saw him?
But when Mary Lee brought their bill, she acted as if nothing had happened. She and George exchanged phone numbers. The girls paid the bill and then left.
As they returned to the mansion, a thick fog was rolling in, shrouding the neighborhood in a white mist.
Inside, the house was filled with the smell of Hannah’s blueberry muffins. The girls trooped up to the Blue Room, exhausted by their long day. Bess and George changed for bed right away. Nancy headed down the hall for the bathroom.
Nancy had finished brushing her teeth and was just leaving the bathroom when she halted. A soft hissing noise seemed to be coming from outside the bathroom window. What was it? she wondered.
Nancy carefully raised the small window. Above the noise of car traffic, muffled by the fog, she could hear a dog barking but nothing else.
Then she saw it. Floating outside a window to her right was a silvery white figure, half lost in the fog. It looked almost like a body—or a ghost. “Who is it?” Nancy called.
The Message in the Haunted Mansion (Nancy Drew Book 122) Page 2
