Carolyn Keene_Nancy Drew Mysteries 057

by The Triple Hoax

  “Yes,” Nancy replied, “and if you need our help, we’ll be glad to do whatever we can. We’re amateur detectives.”

  “Where are you staying?” Senora Mendez asked.

  “At the Fortunato,” Nancy replied and wrote their names on a piece of paper. She handed it to the woman. Señora Mendez, in turn, gave Nancy her address and telephone number.

  “Have you any plans for tomorrow?” she asked.

  Nancy said no, and the friendly Mexican immediately invited the girls to visit the Pyramid of the Sun with her. Intrigued by the name of the ancient monument, the young sleuths accepted eagerly. Señora Mendez promised to pick them up at ten the following morning. When she arrived, Nancy and her friends were waiting in the lobby.

  On the way Bess complimented Senora Mendez on her expert handling of the car. The traffic was fast and appeared dangerous.

  “You’re brave,” Bess said. “I wouldn’t like to drive here.”

  “We’ll soon be out of the city,” the woman replied with a smile. “The roads will be less busy then.”

  “How far is the pyramid?” George asked.

  “About twenty-five miles,” Señora Mendez said. Then she told the girls some stories of ancient Mexico.

  “There’s one legend which I have always liked,” she said. “Native Indians were standing on the shore of the ocean when they saw a huge fish approaching. A white man was seated on its back. Since the Indians had never seen a white man, they were sure he must be a god. When he landed, they knelt before him and he became their ruler for many years.”

  “Where did he come from?” Nancy asked.

  “Apparently from Europe. The legend does not say at what point he got astride the fish, which was probably a friendly dolphin. No doubt he was a crewman from a shipwrecked vessel and was rescued by the dolphin.”

  “Lucky fellow,” Nancy said with a chuckle.

  Señora Mendez smiled. “When the man became old, he longed to go back to his own land. The last time the Indians saw him, he was climbing onto a dolphin’s back to leave Mexico.”

  “What a charming story!” Bess remarked.

  George laughed. “And a pretty preposterous one.”

  Nancy did not have time to comment because Senora Mendez immediately launched into another tale.

  “No one is sure when the first Indians settled around Mexico City. Archeologists, who have been digging here for many years, believe it was at least four thousand years ago. One group after another came to fight the inhabitants. If the new arrivals won the battle, they immediately imposed their own political, religious, and ethical ideas on the captured people. Our present-day ruins are all that is left of the Aztec and earlier civilizations.”

  “Did the Aztecs build the Pyramid of the Sun?” Nancy asked.

  “Not according to some scholars who say it was part of a Toltec tribe’s city that was a thousand years old when the Aztec people came to power.”

  “The Aztecs were a highly intelligent and cultured people,” George put in.

  “That’s true,” Senora Mendez said. “And now look up ahead. There’s the Pyramid of the Sun.”

  The enormous, broad-based structure rose in steps straight up into the blue sky with only a few fluffy clouds to soften its stark lines.

  “What are those other buildings?” Bess asked.

  “There’s the smaller Pyramid of the Moon,” Senora Mendez pointed out, “and in the distance are a number of pyramids, temples and burial spots, including the well-known Temple of Quetzalcoatl. All these were built on both sides of an ancient road about four miles long, known as the Highway of the Dead.”

  Bess shivered. “Not a very inviting name.”

  Senora Mendez smiled as she parked the car in a lot some distance from the pyramid. “I assure you there is nothing scary about this place,” she added as they headed toward the imposing structure.

  Señora Mendez told them that the pyramid had been erected in honor of the Sun God whom the Indians worshipped.

  “It certainly is huge,” George remarked.

  “Yes, two hundred and sixteen feet high,” their Mexican friend explained, “and seven hundred and fifty feet around the square base.”

  On the side facing them shallow stone steps led to the top. Several people were ascending.

  “Do you feel like climbing?” Senora Mendez asked.

  “Oh, yes,” the girls chorused.

  “What’s at the top?” Bess wanted to know.

  “Nothing now,” was the reply. “But a thousand years ago it was very different. Prisoners of war were marched up the steps and slain at the top by priests.”

  “Ugh!” Bess murmured. “I’m not sure I want to go up after all.”

  Senora Mendez said that there was nothing left to remind anyone of that cruel custom. “But there’s a magnificent view which you shouldn’t miss.”

  Bess finally consented to go. She was the last in line and after a while the rest of the group had advanced far ahead of her.

  Suddenly a middle-aged woman a few feet above Bess cried out, “Oh, I’m falling! I feel faint! Save me! Save me!”

  No one was near her except Bess, who saw the woman teeter, then begin to tumble down the steps.

  “I must catch her before she hurts herself!” Bess thought frantically. But she knew that if she remained in front of the stranger, she herself would be knocked down by the impact.

  A quick thought flashed through Bess’s mind. She had once read that in climbing or descending mountains or monuments, the Indians always zigzagged their way. They would take a dozen steps to the right, then to the left. This not only kept them from falling but helped conserve their breath.

  Bess turned and braced herself. She caught the woman around her shoulders. Both teetered for a few seconds, then Bess regained her footing and started down sideways, dragging the woman with her.

  By this time several tourists had hurried to the scene. Two husky men came up to meet Bess and her burden. They lifted the unconscious figure over their shoulders and carried her to the ground.

  Bess was relieved. Thinking what might have happened, she was also nervous and upset. With shaking knees she sat down, trying to recuperate.

  The woman who had fainted soon revived. When she learned of Bess’s help, she called out in English, “Thank you very much for saving me! You’re so brave you should have a medal!”

  Bess was embarrassed by the praise. Quickly she rose, waved to the woman and hurried up the steps.

  Her friends, who were close to the top, had heard the shouting. When Bess joined them, Nancy said, “That was a wonderful rescue!”

  George patted her cousin on the shoulder. “Just great!” she added.

  “Oh, forget it, everybody,” Bess murmured. “Did you find any skeletons here?”

  “No,” Nancy replied. “But let’s walk around a little while. Then I think we should go back to the hotel. Señora Mendez has been very kind, but we’ve taken enough of her time.”

  Bess agreed. “I’m rather weary myself.”

  The group descended and had reached the last step, when Nancy grabbed George by one arm.

  “Look over there!” she exclaimed, and pointed to a man who was rounding a corner of the pyramid. Isn’t that Enzo Scorpio, the poison thief?”

  “He sure is,” George answered.

  She turned and ran in his direction. Nancy was close on her heels, and Bess followed. Señora Mendez stood still, staring after the girls in amazement.

  Just then the suspect saw them. Quick as a wink he turned back and disappeared behind the great pyramid!

  8

  Startling News

  The chase went on for some time. Nancy, Bess, and George took different routes to head off the fleeing suspect. They climbed up and down the steps of the Sun Pyramid, until the fugitive dashed away in a southerly direction. He ran toward the famous Temple of Quetzalcoatl. Even though Nancy concentrated hard on the chase, she could not help but admire the elaborate rows of carving
s on the ancient structure depicting the fabled plumed serpent in whose honor the temple had been erected.

  Suddenly Enzo Scorpio headed for the parking lot. Nancy had nearly caught up with the man when he jumped into a car, started the engine in a split second and roared away. His wheels churned up a cloud of dust. Some of it hit Nancy full force as she came almost close enough to touch the vehicle’s rear fender.

  Coughing, she stopped short and bit her lips in frustration. Despite her anger, she managed to read the license number of the automobile. As soon as the dust had settled somewhat, she pulled a piece of paper out of her handbag and wrote the number down.

  Bess caught up to her with George not far behind.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I almost had him, but he jumped into a car and took off!” Nancy replied.

  “What terrible luck!” George exclaimed.

  “Where’s Senora Mendez?” Bess inquired.

  The girls looked around and noticed the woman going toward her car. Quickly they followed.

  As Nancy passed an athletic-looking young man, who was obviously from the United States, he said, “Want me to chase that guy with my car?”

  “Thank you, no,” Nancy replied.

  The young man smirked. “If you’re after a handsome fellow, how about me?”

  The girls ignored his remarks and continued toward Senora Mendez. When they reached her, she asked why the girls had chased the stranger. Nancy explained and the woman was shocked.

  “He stole a vial of dangerous poison?” she cried out. “He certainly should be put in prison for that!”

  The girls agreed. Then Bess declared that she had had enough sightseeing and exercise for the day and would like to return to the Fortunato. Señora Mendez nodded and drove the girls to Mexico City.

  When they reached their hotel room, Nancy at once phoned Lieutenant Tara.

  “Before we left New York,” she said, “a vial of poison was stolen from a friend of ours. We were told that the New York police suspect a man named Enzo Scorpio of the theft. We just saw him at the Pyramid of the Sun!”

  “You know him?” Lieutenant Tara asked.

  “Yes,” Nancy replied and told the officer about their visit to Mr. Horner’s medical laboratory. “We chased Enzo Scorpio, but he got away in a car,” she added and gave the lieutenant the license number.

  Tara thanked her and promised to track down the car. “I hope we can find out where Scorpio lives,” he said.

  Later in the afternoon he called back and told Nancy that the trail had led to a dead end. The car used by the poison thief had been rented but not by Enzo Scorpio. The man who had signed for the automobile had shown his license and given his address. When the police tried to contact him, they learned he had left town.

  “We have no idea where he went or when he’ll be back,” the lieutenant told Nancy. “But if we manage to find out, we’ll let you know.”

  Nancy was thoughtful for a moment, then said, “I think Scorpio will try to sell the vial to a collector. Do you know of any in Mexico City?”

  “Hm,” Lieutenant Tara said. “As a matter of fact, I do. He is a well-to-do man who has a large collection of ancient poison vials. His name is Fernando Pedroa. Ordinarily he would not be allowed to have them in his house, but we know he’s trustworthy and gave him a special permit to keep the poisons. They are securely locked in a separate room.”

  Nancy said she and her friends would like to meet the man if possible. “Could you give us a letter of introduction?”

  Lieutenant Tara chuckled. “I am sure that Senor Pedroa would love to see you and hear about the mystery. He’s a very pleasant man. I will send a note of introduction to your hotel.”

  “Thank you,” Nancy said.

  A short time later a messenger brought the letter. “Let’s call on the collector right away,” Nancy proposed to Bess and George.

  When they arrived at their destination in a taxi, she asked the driver to wait until they found out if Senor Pedroa was at home.

  Nancy rang the doorbell and a servant answered. He told her that Senor Pedroa was in the garden. She handed over the letter from Lieutenant Tara. While the servant went to deliver it, George paid the cabbie and dismissed him.

  In a few minutes Senor Pedroa came to welcome the girls. He ushered them into his beautifully furnished living room. When the Mexican learned that Bess and George knew no Spanish, he spoke to them in fluent English.

  Nancy quickly outlined their case about the poison, then asked if Enzo Scorpio had tried to sell him the ancient vial. The answer was no.

  “We have seen this man in Mexico City,” Nancy explained. “He worked for a medical laboratory in New York. Enzo Scorpio stole the vial from a friend of ours. The lab owner said the gold filigree poison container was made in the fifteenth century and is probably extremely valuable. The poison in it is still potent.”

  Senor Pedroa’s eyes lighted up. “If it is a genuine piece it would be very valuable. I’d buy the vial if it were offered to me.”

  “We found it in a Florentine costume,” Bess spoke up. “No one knows how long it was there.”

  Senor Pedroa smiled. “And you believe this Enzo Scorpio stole the poison? What makes you so sure it was he?”

  “The New York police told us. Enzo is a Mexican, so they suggested we look for him here.”

  George added, “When we went sightseeing at the Pyramid of the Sun this morning, we saw Scorpio. He noticed us and escaped in a car.”

  Senor Pedroa shook his head in amazement. “You girls are certainly wonderful detectives. I would like to help you solve your mystery. If I hear from Enzo Scorpio I’ll contact you at once.”

  “And please notify the police.” Nancy urged.

  The man promised to do so, then asked if the girls would like to see his collection of antique poison containers.

  “Oh, yes,” they chorused.

  He unlocked a heavy metal door. Behind it was a room lighted by fluorescent tubes. On the walls were bars so close together that no hand could reach through to the shelves behind them.

  “I have to be sure that nothing will be stolen,” Senor Pedroa explained. The glass-encased shelves were divided into compartments. In each stood a beautiful, handcrafted container.

  “Many of them still have poison inside,” the Mexican went on. “I try to trace the origin and find out what it is. But I’m not always successful. All these vials are old. They are genuine and valuable.”

  George pointed to a case filled with rings. “Are those the kind that hold poison?” she asked.

  “You are correct,” Senor Pedroa replied. “As you may know, poison rings date back to classical times. The great General Hannibal killed himself by drinking the fluid contained in the cap of such a ring.”

  Bess grimaced. “How awful!”

  Senor Pedroa smiled. “You are right. It is not a subject we should dwell on. How about a cup of tea?”

  “Thank you!” the girls accepted with alacrity.

  He locked his collection room, then led the visitors onto a sunny patio, where the servant brought trays of luscious-looking petit fours and jam tarts. Bess had not thought about being hungry, but suddenly declared she was starved.

  The servant poured tea for everyone and passed around the delicious cakes. By the time the girls stood up to leave, all of them were sure they would not need any dinner!

  Nancy told Senor Pedroa, “We’ve had a delightful and informative visit. Thank you.”

  Their gracious host admitted he had enjoyed their company immensely and wished them luck in solving the mystery of the missing vial of poison.

  When Nancy and her friends arrived at the Fortunato, they found a message for them at the desk. Rosa Mendez had called and left her phone number.

  “Please contact me at once,” was written underneath the number.

  The girls hurried to their room and Nancy put in the call. Señora Mendez recognized her voice and began to sob. She was barely abl
e to speak and Nancy could hardly understand her.

  “Please, Senora Mendez, say that again,” she requested.

  The woman cried out, “My granddaughter, Dolores, has been kidnapped!”

  9

  Stage Attack

  “Kidnapped? When? How?” Nancy asked Rosa Mendez, utterly shocked.

  Between sobs the woman explained that her nine-year-old granddaughter had been on her way home from school. When she did not arrive for hours after the expected time, her parents called the police.

  “My daughter,” Senora Mendez went on, “also phoned Dolores’s teacher, who was amazed that the child had disappeared. Dolores had stayed late after class to help straighten the classroom, then started for home. The teacher got in touch with other students and asked if they knew where Dolores had gone.”

  “Did she have any success?” Nancy asked.

  “Yes. Two girls saw Dolores get into a car. They had assumed that the driver and the woman in the back seat were friends or relatives. The girls were dreadfully upset to hear that their playmate had been kidnapped.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Nancy said. “I’ll do all I can to help you find her. Have you any clues?”

  “There are none,” the Mexican woman replied. “Oh, why did the kidnappers have to pick out my family?”

  Nancy said, “I have suspected the Hoaxters of dishonesty for some time. They ask people to come on stage and by sleight of hand remove their possessions. They probably look among the articles to find out who of the owners are wealthy, influential, or famous. That’s why I tried to hold you back when you went on stage. In your case, the men might have learned that you have a sizable bank account and also a darling granddaughter whom you adore.”

  “Oh, yes, I do,” Senora Mendez cried out and began to sob again.

  Nancy tried to calm her by saying, “I’m sure that either you or your daughter and her husband will receive a ransom note. Or you may get a phone message directly from Dolores.”