The Thirteenth Pearl

by Carolyn G. Keene

  Trying hard to conceal her nervousness, Bess said, “If you won’t leave your name, what shall I tell Mr. Moto?”

  “Never mind. But you’ll be sorry for your stubbornness, you silly girl!”

  With this, the woman turned and hurried out the door. For a moment, Bess stared after her, shocked and surprised. Then she sank down on the stool, trembling.

  Just then Nancy and George returned. Having found Mr. Moto sleeping, they tiptoed through the back room into the shop.

  “Oh, am I ever glad to see you!” Bess said, her voice shaking.

  “What’s the matter?” George asked, alarmed.

  Bess poured out her story. When she told about taking the woman’s photograph, Nancy said, “Good for you! Maybe the police can identify this person. From what you say, I doubt that she’s really a friend of Mrs. Rossmeyer’s.”

  The other girls agreed. Bess looked toward the camera. “Who’s going to climb up there and get the picture?”

  George seemed the most likely candidate. But try as she would, she was unable to reach the camera. At this moment Mr. Moto walked into the shop. He looked refreshed, and color had come back to his face. He gazed up at George, who was stepping on one shelf and trying to reach another.

  “What—what are you doing?” he asked in a puzzled voice.

  “Bess took a picture of a woman who claimed to be a friend of Mrs. Rossmeyer’s. How do you get it?”

  Mr. Moto smiled. “I will bring a ladder.” He disappeared into the back room and, in a few seconds, returned with a tall, narrow ladder. It had a hook at the end that fitted over the shelf beneath the camera.

  “Push that lever on the right,” he directed. “The picture will come out the front.”

  George did this, and a photo appeared. She pulled it out, then descended the ladder. She laid the snapshot on the counter, and they all gazed at it.

  “It’s an excellent likeness,” Bess remarked.

  Mr. Moto said, “I do not recognize the woman. You say that she claimed to be a friend of Mrs. Rossmeyer’s?”

  “Yes,” Bess replied, and explained what had happened. “But I don’t believe she was telling the truth. She was horrid.”

  “I do not like this,” Mr. Moto said, visibly disturbed.

  Nancy asked the jeweler to tell them more about Mrs. Rossmeyer.

  “She is a widow,” he began, “and travels in European high society. She is not sociable with River Heights people. She has a personal maid, an Asiatic who travels with her. When Mrs. Rossmeyer is at home, her maid does all the shopping, cooking, and so on. There are no other servants.”

  Nancy felt that Mr. Moto considered the woman a little strange but was too polite to say so.

  “I have never seen Mrs. Rossmeyer,” he went on. “I only spoke to her over the telephone. The maid brought in the necklace.”

  “Mr. Moto, would you mind if we take this photograph to the police? It might be a clue to the thief who took Mrs. Rossmeyer’s necklace.”

  Mr. Moto nodded. “But do not say anything about the stolen strand of pearls. I am permitting you to take this picture to the police because Mrs. Rossmeyer’s life may be in danger.”

  As the girls were ready to leave, they extracted a promise from him that he would close up his shop and go home soon.

  He smiled. “You are so thoughtful. I appreciate all of this. I believe you will be able to solve my mystery.”

  “We certainly hope so,” Nancy said.

  At headquarters it did not take Chief McGinnis long to identify the woman in the photograph.

  “Her name is Rosina Caputti,” he said, “and she’s the wife of an underworld character known as Benny the Slippery One Caputti.”

  “What’s his specialty?” Nancy asked.

  “According to the report, he’s a jewel thief.”

  “Oh!” Bess burst out. It seemed as if she was about to say more, but nudges from Nancy and George made her keep quiet. The three girls wondered if Caputti and his wife were connected with World Wide Gems, Inc.

  While Chief McGinnis answered a phone call, Nancy whispered to Bess, “You did a great job today. I think we picked up a very good clue to the mystery!”

  CHAPTER III

  Sudden Flight

  WHEN Chief McGinnis finished his phone call, he looked at Nancy and grinned. “Young lady,” he said, “are you getting mixed up with underworld characters?”

  The girl smiled back. “Not if I can help it,” she replied. “But if there’s one for me to catch, you know I’ll certainly go after himl”

  “Well, watch your step,” the officer advised. “The Caputti’s are suspected of having commit ted a number of crimes, but nothing could ever be proved against them.”

  “I don’t want to see that Rosina Caputti again!” Bess declared. “She has a horrible ex pression on her face, and her eyes bored right through me in Mr. Moto’s shop.”

  Nancy remarked, “You said Caputti is a jewel thief. Does he specialize in pearls?”

  “Yes, although he’ll take along anything that’s handy,” the chief replied. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because that’s what Mr. Moto works with primarily,” Nancy replied. “I’d like to find out more about pearls.”

  “You should call on Professor Joji Mise,” Chief McGinnis told her. “He is Japanese and has lived in this country a long time teaching Japanese art. He’s a most interesting person, and I’m sure he can give you lots of information about pearls and the customs of his country. Tell the professor I suggested you get in touch with him.”

  The girls thanked Chief McGinnis and left headquarters.

  “Let’s call on Professor Mise this afternoon,” Nancy suggested as they climbed back into her car. “We can have lunch at my house first.”

  Bess and George agreed. Later, when they were about to leave the Drew home, Nancy’s dog Togo, a frisky bull terrier, barked and whined.

  “He wants to come along,” said Nancy. “Listen, old fellow, if I take you, will you behave?”

  Togo wagged his tail vigorously, which meant that he was promising to be good on the trip. He jumped into the passenger seat in the front, so Bess and George climbed into the rear. When they reached the Mise house, Nancy left Togo in the car and opened the four windows part way for air.

  The girls found Professor Mise at home. He proved to be charming, and his wife a lovely, dainty lady. He considered the police chief a good friend and a very fine officer.

  Nancy asked the professor about his native country, and he began to describe Japan, its customs, and some of its history. As he was talking, a large, beautiful tortoise-shell-colored cat wandered into the room, jumped up on the sofa, and settled down to go to sleep.

  “What a beautiful animal!” Nancy remarked.

  Professor Mise told her that it was a mike-neko. “They are a great rarity, and among Japanese fishermen there’s a superstition that these cats can make accurate weather forecasts. Japanese sailors often have one or more aboard their vessels. It is even said that they are a charm against shipwreck.”

  “How interesting!” said Bess, who owned a cat, but admitted it was not as beautiful as this one. Then she requested that the professor tell them something about the history of pearls. “They’re only found in the waters of Asia, aren’t they?” she asked.

  “Oh, no. Pearl oysters live in many parts of the world,” the professor replied. “Did you know that even American Indians prized pearls and wore strands of them?”

  The girls shook their heads, and their host continued. “Not every tribe did, mostly the ones along the seashore. Indians in Virginia, for instance, liked necklaces, beads, and sometimes even anklets made from pearls.”

  George spoke up. “How did you find out about this?”

  The professor said that it was reported in old documents by white settlers of the 17th century. “Even in Ohio,” he went on, “which is not on the ocean, skeletons with pearls in their mouths were found dating back to the era of mound builders.”
>
  George raised her eyebrows. ‘In their mouths?”

  “I suppose the Indians believed that the healing propensities of the pearl would be beneficial for the dead person’s journey to the happy hunting grounds. You know that the pearl was used for medicinal purposes when that science was still in its infancy. In India, for instance, people used to insert one or more pearls in the wounds of injured warriors to help them heal.”

  “Do pearls last forever?” Bess asked.

  “I do not know about forever, but one pearl found in a Japanese storehouse was a thousand years old. After the dust had been removed, it turned out that the pearl had retained its original luster.”

  “How marvelous!” Bess exclaimed.

  Just then Nancy heard Togo barking. She looked out the window in time to see him leap from the car. He ran to the house and whined to be allowed to come in.

  Nancy went to the front door to chastise her pet, but the dog had other ideas. He scooted past her into the living room, where he heard voices. Suddenly he spied the cat on the sofa. He shot across the room and barked furiously at the animal.

  The mike-neko stood up and arched its back. Togo put his paws on the couch and yapped at the cat. Frightened, it jumped onto a table, knocking over a beautiful Japanese vase. Nancy made a dive for her pet and grabbed him by the collar.

  “You naughty, naughty dog!” she exclaimed and took him back to the car. This time she closed the windows a little more so he could not get out again.

  She returned to the house and apologized for Togo’s actions. “I’m dreadfully sorry about the vase,” she said. “May I have it mended or replace it? I would feel much better about this.”

  Mrs. Mise had taken hold of her cat. She turned to Nancy. “You are not responsible for this mishap. I would not think of permitting you to buy us another one.”

  Although Nancy was very insistent, her host and hostess would not give in. To help the girl over her embarrassment, the professor went on talking about Japan and pearls.

  He mentioned that for thousands of years, people knew only of natural pearls found in oysters. “Then came the industry of pearl culture,” he said. “Today it is one of the biggest businesses in Japan. You really should visit that group of beautiful islands and see one of the culture farms.”

  “Just how are cultured pearls made?” George asked.

  “As far as the oyster is concerned, the same way as ‘natural’ pearls. It happens when a small foreign object gets inside the shell, like a grain of sand, for instance.

  “In the pearl beds, man helps this process by inserting a sphere ranging in diameter from two to ten millimeters. These nuclei come from the shell of freshwater bivalves and are polished prior to their use.”

  “I’ll bet the oyster doesn’t like that one bit!” Bess declared.

  “True. It annoys the oyster so much that it gives off a fluid called nacre. This coats the offending object and hardens. The result is a pearl.”

  “Then cultured pearls are really not imitations,” George said.

  “Oh, no. Today that is practically all you can buy because few natural pearls are fished any more. But in ancient times, divers searched the deep water for the oysters. They risked their health, and many times their lives, hunting for pearls, which only royalty and aristocrats were allowed to wear.”

  “How mean!” Bess said. “That seems very unfair.”

  Her cousin George could not resist teasing her. “Why Bess, I always thought you wanted to be a queen!”

  Bess made a face, but did not comment.

  Professor Mise said, “My brother and his wife live just outside Tokyo. If you are ever in Japan, you must look them up. You would be welcome at their home, and my brother, who is retired from government work, would take you to one of the culture farms.”

  George smiled. “Is it a Japanese custom to invite people to your brother’s home?”

  The Mises laughed. “In a way, yes,” the professor replied. “But we invite only people we like.”

  “Such a trip would be very exciting,” Nancy said. “But right now I can’t leave here because I’m working on a case for Mr. Moto, the jeweler.”

  “Oh, I know Mr. Moto well,” the professor said. “A very nice man.”

  The girls and the Mises talked for a while longer about pearls and Japan, then Nancy and her friends stood up to say good-by.

  “Please visit us again soon,” Mrs. Mise said. “We will be glad to tell you more about our country.”

  The girls promised to do so, then thanked their hosts and left.

  The following morning, Nancy suggested going to Mr. Moto’s shop again. Perhaps he had heard from Mrs. Rossmeyer or had another idea as to who might have stolen her necklace.

  When the girls walked through the door, they were surprised to see a stranger standing behind the counter. Nancy inquired about Mr. Moto and was told that the jeweler had left very hurriedly for Japan.

  “My name is Kikichi,” the man explained. “I am a friend. Mr. Moto asked me to take care of his shop while he is away. May I help you?”

  “Did Mr. Moto say why he was leaving?” Nancy asked.

  “No. He did not.”

  “Does he have any relatives in Japan?” George asked. “Perhaps it was a family emergency?”

  “I do not know. He did not say.”

  Nancy wondered if by chance the jeweler had received a lead to Mrs. Rossmeyer’s stolen necklace and had gone to retrieve it. But why had he not called her?

  All three girls felt that Mr. Moto’s sudden disappearance was quite strange. Was Mr. Kikichi telling the truth, or was he covering up a secret or foul play?

  To verify his story, the girls began looking around the shop, admiring the various art objects. They called back and forth to Mr. Kikichi asking questions and receiving answers.

  Nancy drifted toward the back room where Mr. Moto had lain down to sleep the previous day. She wanted to look inside for clues.

  As she came closer, Mr. Kikichi called out, “This way. Don’t go back there! Come this way!”

  Nancy pretended not to hear him and hurried into the room despite his orders. She stopped short in amazement. The place was a shambles!

  CHAPTER IV

  Rising Sun Insignia

  NANCY stared at the disheveled room for a moment, shocked and surprised. Then she retreated silently, waved to Bess and George, and hurried to the front door. With a quick good-by to Mr. Kikichi, who looked angry, the girls left Moto’s shop.

  Outside, Nancy told what she had seen. “Let’s walk around the place. Perhaps we can pick up a clue as to what happened,” she suggested.

  Two cars were parked in the driveway to the right, and several tire tracks led to the street. Nancy examined them closely. An unusual one caught her eye.

  “It has a Rising Sun insignia,” she thought. “I wonder whether those tires came from Japan.” She checked the tires of the two parked autos, but neither had treads with a Rising Sun mark.

  The young sleuth showed Bess and George what she had found. “The tracks are still clear. I wonder if the person whose car made them knows Mr. Moto and gave him a ride?”

  She followed the tracks down the driveway until they ended in the street. Here there were so many criss-crossing marks that it was impossible to tell which way the car with the Rising Sun tires had gone.

  Disappointed, Nancy returned to the shop. She asked Mr. Kikichi if he knew anyone who owned a car with Japanese tires. He shook his head. “No. Why?”

  She did not answer. Instead she said, “Mr. Moto was gone by the time you arrived here this morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the back room was a mess when you came?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t you think that’s rather unusual? Mr. Moto was a very neat man. He never would have left his place looking like that.”

  “You mean,” said Mr. Kikichi, “that you suspect foul play? If so, why would Mr. Moto have telephoned me about his plans?”

>   Nancy said she did not know, but possibly something had happened to him afterwards.

  “When did he call you?” she inquired.

  “Yesterday. I had just finished dinner.”

  “I’ll go outside and ask people in the area if they saw anyone here last night or very early this morning,” Nancy told him.

  Bess and George, meanwhile, had walked up and down the street, waiting for Nancy. When she did not reappear, they continued searching for clues.

  By this time, Nancy had left Mr. Moto’s shop through the back door, trying to find someone to ask about the jeweler. She noticed the neighbor from upstairs to whom she had spoken the day before. The woman was about to cross the street.

  Nancy hurried toward her and asked if she had been aware of any disturbance in Mr. Moto’s place the previous night.

  “No,” the neighbor replied. She added with a laugh, “Once my husband goes to sleep, I can’t hear anything but his snoring. Why, is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” the young sleuth replied. “Mr. Moto left very suddenly for Japan.”

  “That’s strange,” said the woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Rooney. “I was speaking to him just the other day and asked him if he had any intention of visiting his homeland. He said no, not for a while. He was going to wait until he retired in a few years.”

  “Does he have any family in Japan?” Nancy asked.

  “Yes, a brother, Tetsuo, who lives in Tokyo. Mr. Moto told me about him many times. He’s a widower and has visited the United States twice.”

  Nancy thanked Mrs. Rooney and went to look for Bess and George. She found them a few minutes later.

  George held a pair of men’s Japanese sandals in her hands.

  “Where did you get these?” Nancy asked.

  “We found them under a bush next to the driveway,” George said.

  “I wonder if they belong to Mr. Moto,” Bess said.

  Nancy examined the leather sandals. “They are quite large,” she said. “And Mr. Moto is a small man.”

  “Let’s ask Mr. Kikichi,” George declared. “They might belong to him, even though he’s not a tall person, either.”