“It is, but I’m certain it’s true. Did I do wrong in asking Emma to remain at the Conrad house?”
“That was a stroke of genius, Jane. It gives us an inside track on the story. And it will be a tremendous one!”
Dad pushed a buzzer on his desk. When an office boy thrust his tousled head in at the doorway, he said: “Send Jack Bancroft here.”
“Dad, isn’t this definitely a case for the police?” I asked.
“Yes, but I’d like to talk with the Conrads before the police take charge. After an arrest is made, we’ll learn only what the authorities wish to give out. I plan to accompany Jack over to White Falls immediately.”
“You’ll need me along to show you the house,” I said.
Before Dad could answer, Jack came in.
“You sent for me, Chief?”
Dad disclosed the bare bones of the case.
“Get your hat,” he ordered the reporter. “We’re going over to White Falls to see what we can learn.”
I acted as chauffeur—Dad doesn’t like to drive—and as we went along, he explained to Jack additional details of the case.
“We’ll have to handle the story with kid gloves,” he said. “Jane may have been mistaken in her facts, but if she’s right, this is a chance for a big scoop.”
We parked in front of Old Mansion. Dad sat in the car for a couple of minutes, looking at the house, then he went boldly to the door and rang the bell. Jack and I followed a few steps behind.
After a long wait, Mrs. Conrad responded to the summons. She scowled when she recognized me.
“Well, what do you want now?” she demanded of me, ignoring my father.
“My name is Fielding—Anthony Fielding from the Greenville Examiner.” Dad stuck out his hand.
“We’re not talking to any reporters,” Mrs. Conrad snapped. “Go away and leave us alone.”
She started to close the door.
“Just a minute, Madam,” said Dad. “Either you talk to me, or you talk to the police.”
“The police—”
“We have reason to believe that two persons have disappeared from your hotel under decidedly mysterious circumstances, Madam. Will you talk to us, or shall I send for the police?”
“I’ll see you,” Mrs. Conrad said, “Come in.”
She led us into the parlor. Before we could seat ourselves, Glen Conrad entered from the kitchen. He glared at his wife.
“I couldn’t help it, Glen. They pushed their way right in. Said if we didn’t talk with ’em, they’d go straight to the police.”
“So you’re responsible for this, you meddling upstart!” Mr. Conrad turned on me. “Trying to get us into trouble with the police!”
“You are speaking to my daughter,” said my father. “Let’s omit the histrionics if you please. Tell us what became of Mr. Harwood?”
“How should I know? He didn’t tell us his business when he went away from here.”
“And when do you claim he left your house?”
“Yesterday afternoon. He only stayed here a few minutes while he inquired about a friend of his.”
“I think not,” I said. “Mr. Harwood’s car stood in front of the house the entire afternoon, as many of your neighbors will testify. During the night, after the man disappeared from room seven, you hid the car somewhere.”
“That ain’t true,” Mr. Conrad retorted.
“Falsehoods will get you nowhere,” Dad said. “Either you tell us exactly what happened, or I will go to the police. I’m not inclined to beat around the bush when a missing person is involved.”
“Oh, Glen, tell ’em the truth,” Mrs. Conrad pleaded. “If the police come mixing in here, they might take us to jail! And it wasn’t our fault.”
“Will you keep out of this, Earnestine? It’s your loose tongue that will get us in trouble.”
But Mrs. Conrad could not be quieted. While her husband listened in grim silence, she poured out her tale.
“We never did any harm to anybody. Everything was all right until that man Merriweather came here. He spent the night in room seven. When we went to call him in the morning, he had disappeared.”
“Why didn’t you report to the police?” Dad demanded.
“Glen said we’d be arrested if we did. We thought we would just keep quiet about it. But somehow the news got noised around White Falls. Thom Vhorst never did like us, and he saw a chance to start trouble. He kept gossiping. Then that man Harwood came here to inquire about his friend. We pretended like we didn’t know anything about a man named Merriweather, but he insisted upon staying overnight. Glen put him in room seven.”
“Why room seven?”
“Just to be contrary, I reckon. He knew it would plague me.”
“Then what happened?”
“During the night, Mr. Harwood disappeared just like his friend. We think maybe they both jumped into the river.”
“Mr. Harwood certainly was not the type to do anything like that,” Dad said. “Have you had the river dragged?”
“No, we didn’t dare. If we started dragging the river, folks would know something was wrong.”
“They will realize it anyway,” said my father. “Surely you must know you can’t keep two disappearances secret. Your failure to report to the police tends to throw suspicion upon you.”
“You don’t think we had anything to do with it!” Mrs. Conrad started to cry.
“My opinion does not matter. However, I am afraid that the police will be inclined to question the story. As I say, your attempt to keep the matter secret may count heavily against you.”
“But we only did it to protect our business,” Mrs. Conrad wailed. “No one ever would stop here overnight if they knew about those missing men!”
“I agree with you there.”
“How about taking a look at room seven?” suggested Jack.
“See here,” Mr. Conrad sputtered, “we’ll not have you meddling—”
Dad ignored him and asked Mrs. Conrad to show us to room seven. We followed her upstairs. While Dad and Jack inspected the room, I slipped away to find Emma.
“How are things going here?”
“Better, as far as I’m concerned,” Emma replied. “Mrs. Conrad is so upset, she’s not quite as bossy as before. Will she be arrested?”
“I don’t know, but I assume both she and her husband will be wheeled off to jail just as soon as Dad reports to the authorities.”
“In a way, it’s a shame,” Emma said. “The Conrads are a fairly odious pair, but I sincerely believe that they had nothing to do with whatever went wrong in room seven.”
I hurried back to room seven. Dad and Jack had finished their inspection, and Mrs. Conrad was locking the door.
“I appreciate your position, Madam,” Dad said. “I can see that premature publicity, in this case, might actually thwart justice.”
“Then you’ll not go to the police?” Mrs. Conrad pleaded.
“I can make no such promise. However, it is not my present intention to turn over this information to the authorities for at least twenty-four hours.”
“I’ll do anything you say if only you’ll not expose us to the police.”
“I shall expect you to give full cooperation to my reporter, Jack Bancroft. He may do a little sleuthing around here today.”
“The neighbors may suspect—”
“I don’t see what he expects to learn,” Mr. Conrad said. “Merriweather and Harwood jumped into the river. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
“A trifle too plain, perhaps,” said my father.
We went back down to Dad’s car for a conference.
“Well, Dad, what did you think of Mr. and Mrs. Conrad?”
“I’m inclined to believe they had nothing to do with Harwood’s disappearance. But that makes the case so baffling.”
“Will you notify the police?”
“Not immediately. I plan to keep the whole thing dark for twenty-four hours, and then blow off the lid. There’s something sin
ister going on in that hotel, and if we’re lucky enough to learn what it’s all about, we should scoop every paper in Greenville!”
“Just how are we going to learn what it’s all about?” Jack asked.
“That’s where you come in, Jack, my lad,” he said. “Tonight, you’re sleeping in room seven!”
CHAPTER 15
“I’m sleeping where?” Jack was incredulous.
“In room seven,” Dad repeated. “You’ll come back with a corking story.”
“If I come back at all.”
“You won’t force you to do it.” Dad was no longer smiling. “I know it’s a dangerous business, Jack.”
“I’ll do it.”
“I thought you would, Jack. You’ll be armed, of course. I’ll station guards somewhere around the house.”
“Isn’t that apt to give the whole thing away?” Jack asked. “It isn’t likely anything will happen if it’s known we’re watching the place.”
“And the Times may get wind of it, too,” I added. “Then your scoop will explode like a soap bubble.”
“Perhaps, you are right,” Dad said. “It would be better to have no guards in evidence, but I can’t let you take too much risk, Jack.”
“Dad, I know how you could keep folks from suspecting that the house was being watched!” I said.
“How?”
“Give a big party there tonight. It would be killing two birds with one stone.”
“I don’t understand.”
“For weeks, Dad, you’ve been saying you intended to entertain your staff. Old Mansion is perfectly spooky for a wonderful ghost party. Florence and I could plan all the entertainment, and serve refreshments. Everything would appear just like an ordinary party. The townspeople won’t suspect what’s behind it all. While the party’s in progress, Jack could be keeping his eyes open. Also, if anything goes wrong while he was staying in that room, there would be any number of helpers at hand.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Mr. Carter said doubtfully. “It sounds a bit fantastic to me. Your thought would be to have the party last all night?”
“Into the wee small hours, at least. Oh, Dad, it would work out beautifully. The guests won’t need to know anything about why Jack was in the house.”
Jack said he thought it was a good idea, and Dad gave in. Mrs. Conrad did not protest. She was past protesting. I think we could have proposed housing a herd of swine on the premises, and she would have inquired as to how much straw we required.
“I’ll leave all the plans for the party in your hands, Jane,” my father said. “Can you take care of it on such short notice?”
“Yes, you invite the newspaper gang, and I’ll do the rest. You might sign over a couple of checks in blank. I’ll have to arrange with a caterer to bring in food and find musicians.”
I had a lot of work to do, and I couldn’t do it alone. I headed back to Greenville. On the way home, I stopped off at Mud Cat Joe’s shed. There was no one around, so I wrote a hasty note, telling Mud Cat where we had seen a houseboat resembling the one he had lost. I tacked it to the shed door and hurried home.
Mrs. Timms and Florence both came to my assistance. We found a caterer willing to deliver at short notice. Flo had a cousin who played in a five-piece orchestra, and they were free for the evening. The only thing left was the entertainment.
“Even if it isn’t Halloween, we’ll have ghost stunts and the like,” I said. “That reminds me that I must buy candles. Mrs. Conrad’s dreadful furniture won’t seem so bad by candlelight.”
By eight o’clock, everything was ready. Mr. Carter had invited every member of the Examiner’s staff who would not be required at the plant. There were to be nearly thirty guests.
The caterer filled up Mrs. Conrad’s kitchen. Flo and I scattered candles around the parlor. The five-piece orchestra was shoehorned into a corner.
I was so tired that I couldn’t even look forward to the prospect of dancing with Jack.
“There, I can’t think of another thing left undone,” I said, checking over the food and drinks supply in Mrs. Conrad’s kitchen. Florence and Emma had been helping me while Jack leaned indolently against the table helping himself to the dessert tray.
“Jack, if you keep on pushing cakes down your hatch at this rate we’re going to run short on food,” I said.
“I have to have something to fortify my courage,” he said. “I see that the Greenville Examiner intends to adhere to the law of the land when it comes to the consumption of liquor. It’s a shame, Jane, that on his last night on earth, a poor condemned man can’t even get a decent drink.”
“So, in lieu of a nice scotch, you’re having several pounds of chocolate cake?”
“I am,” said Jack, “fully realizing that this may be the last food I’ll ever eat.”
“Don’t say such things—even in fun,” I said. “You don’t have to do it, you know. It’s not too late to change your mind.”
Jack didn’t answer and went to stand by the window. Flo and Emma had left us, and I went to stand beside him.
“It’s the perfect night for dramatic happening,” he said. “Dark, rainy, wind howling. And a nice bed waiting for little Jack in room seven.”
“I almost wish you weren’t doing it,” I said.
“Jane—”
“What?”
Just then, a batch of guests arrived. I could hear them in the hall.
“Tell me later,” I said, and went out to play hostess.
For the first two hours, we all danced. I danced eight times with Jack, but only the fast tunes. He seemed to be avoiding the slow waltzes.
When everyone was good and tired, I introduced a series of games and stunts. I was kept so busy, that from ten o’clock on, I caught only an occasional glimpse of my father or Jack.
Shortly after eleven o’clock, I realized that I hadn’t seen Jack for a while. I found my father and asked if Jack had already taken himself off to maintain his vigil in room seven.
“Yes, Jack is up there now,” Dad told. “But I’m fairly certain nothing will come of it.”
“Why do you think that, Dad?”
“I believe it was a mistake having this party here. Not that it isn’t going over big. You’ve done a good job, Jane. But I can’t see that it will contribute toward our scoop.”
I was disappointed, but I tried not to show it.
“Do the Conrads know that Jack is staying in room seven?” I asked.
“I didn’t tell them, but they probably know it by now. I instructed Jack to advertise his presence by turning on the lights.”
“Just what did you hope might happen tonight, Dad?”
“Well, I thought someone might try to enter room seven. Jack has a gun, and we rigged up a camera trap. All he needs to do is to touch it off. But, as I say, our plans probably will be wasted.”
“Is anyone besides Jack keeping guard?”
“No, he’s alone in the room. I intend to go up there every fifteen minutes or so just to make certain he’s all right.”
I returned to the parlor to find that all the lights save one candle had been extinguished.
“You’re just in time, Jane,” called out one of the guests. “We’ve thought up some games of our own.”
“That’s fine. What is this one?”
“Oh, that old Halloween stunt,” the girl went on. “You hold a mirror and a candle, and see the face of your beloved. Your turn will be next after Florence’s.”
I laughed as saw how the stunt worked. In the darkness, a young man slipped up behind the girl who was gazing into the mirror, so that she saw his reflection in the glass.
It was Flo’s turn, and she took her place not far from the window. Holding the candle in her left hand, she stared into the mirror.
Suddenly she screamed, and the looking glass dropped from her hand to the floor. All the color drained from her cheeks.
“What is the matter, Florence?” I said. “Didn’t you see the face of your future sweetheart?�
��
“I saw a man.” Florence shuddered.
“It was only Bill Evans, the sports reporter!” I laughed.
I thought Flo must be overtired not to have realized how the stunt worked. Florence glanced nervously over her shoulder and retreated to a chair by the wall. A shout of laughter went up at Bill Evans’ expense, but Flo did not join in.
“Let’s try some other game,” I said, and before anyone could protest, I switched on the electric lights.
At the first opportunity, I drew Florence into the hallway.
“You weren’t pretending, Flo. You really saw something in that mirror?”
“That was not Bill Evans that I saw in the mirror!”
“You’re certain?”
Florence gave me a scornful look.
“I saw Bill’s face in the mirror too, but that wasn’t what frightened me. Someone was watching us all through the window!”
CHAPTER 16
I could not shake Florence’s firm conviction about what she’d seen in the mirror. I suggested that it might have been one of the male guests, gone out for a gasper, but she insisted it wasn’t any of the guests. I went and told my father.
“I’ll take a look outside,” he promised.
Within ten minutes, he returned to report that he’d found no one around.
“I feel very uneasy,” I said. “Florence isn’t the type to imagine anything. I do wish Jack hadn’t decided to go through with his plan.”
“Well, we might call it off,” Dad said. “I really doubt any good will be gained by his spending the night in room seven, anyway. It was just one of those happy ideas which didn’t seem to work out.”
“Shall I run up and tell him now?” I asked.
“Might as well, I guess.”
Leaving the merry-makers below, I climbed the stairs. A light was burning in the room occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Conrad. The remainder of the upper floor was dark.
I knocked on the door of room seven.
No answer.
“Jack,” I called softly.
Still no response.
I knocked again on the door, this time louder.
Still, there was no answer.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I twisted the doorknob.
It was locked.
Sinister Goings-on in Room Seven: A Jane Carter Historical Cozy (Book Two) (Jane Carter Historical Cozy Mysteries 2) Page 8
