The Bungalow Mystery

by Carolyn G. Keene

  “Yes, except to get Mother’s jewelry from the hotel safe.”

  “I’ll do that for you, dear,” Mrs. Aborn volunteered, rising. She smoothed her skirt restlessly.

  Laura said, “Thank you, but I must present the receipt in person.” She excused herself, saying she would be right back.

  As Laura left the suite, Mr. Aborn turned to the two guests. “I wish Marie Pendleton had been a little more cautious with her inheritance from her husband,” he confided.

  “What do you mean?” Nancy asked.

  “Laura is practically penniless,” her guardian explained. “Mrs. Pendleton’s illness and the way she lived took almost all her funds.”

  Nancy and Helen were surprised and dismayed to hear this.

  “It doesn’t matter, though,” Mrs. Aborn said. “We have ample means to provide for Laura. She’ll have everything she needs.”

  Nancy was confused by the woman’s seemingly dual personality. She could be crude as on the evening before, or sweet as she appeared now. Perhaps, at heart, she meant well. Nancy hoped so for Laura’s sake, but a strange feeling of distrust persisted.

  When Laura returned, Helen and Nancy said they must be on their way. The friends shook hands.

  “We never can thank you enough, Laura, for coming to our rescue yesterday,” Helen said gratefully.

  “That’s right,” Nancy agreed. “If you hadn’t come along at that moment we’d probably be at the bottom of the lake!”

  Laura shuddered. “Oh, I’m sure you would have reached shore some way! But I am glad I could help and it’s been such fun knowing you. I hope you’ll come to see me while I’m at Melrose Lake.”

  “We will,” Nancy promised. “What is your address there?”

  “Anyone can direct you to my house,” Mr. Aborn said heartily. “It’s well known in that section.”

  His wife tapped her foot on the floor. “Jacob, it’s getting late,” she hinted.

  Nancy and Helen hastily bade the Aborns good-by and walked toward the door of the suite with Laura. Suddenly Helen turned around.

  “It’s lucky you brought two cars!” she called back. “Laura has a lot of luggage.”

  Without another word, Helen gave Laura a quick kiss and walked into the corridor. Nancy followed a moment later.

  “Why did you say that?” Nancy questioned Helen as they rode down in the elevator.

  The dark-haired girl signaled for silence. There were several other people in the car. When they stepped out into the lobby Nancy repeated her question.

  Helen grabbed her chum’s arm excitedly. “I couldn’t resist it!” she exclaimed. “Jacob Aborn was the driver in the tan-and-white sports jacket I saw coming out of the road by the bungalow this morning! The driver of the black foreign car!”

  CHAPTER IV

  The Tree Crash

  IF HELEN was right about Mr. Aborn’s being the driver of the foreign car, then it should be in the hotel parking lot, Nancy thought.

  “Let’s take a look,” she suggested.

  The girls walked to the rear of the hotel where Nancy had left her own convertible. They scouted the lot. There was no sign of a black foreign car. Helen asked the attendant if one had been driven in that day. The man said no.

  Helen was puzzled. “I was so sure I was right.”

  “You still could be,” said Nancy. “The car may be parked somewhere else. Mrs. Aborn may have picked up her husband at some other point.”

  Puzzled, she and Helen climbed into the convertible and Nancy started the engine. As she drove back to the Pinecrest Motel, Helen remarked:

  “I don’t care for either Mr. or Mrs. Aborn. Their friendliness seems forced, and their promises don’t ring true.”

  “I agree.” Nancy nodded. “By the way, did you notice how Laura’s guardian went out of his way to tell us she was penniless? And we were total strangers.”

  “I certainly did,” Helen replied. “It was in very bad taste, I’d say.”

  “As soon as Hannah’s ankle is better,” Nancy declared, “I’m coming back here. Let’s pay Laura a visit together at Melrose Lake. I feel very uneasy about her.”

  “A wonderful idea!” Helen exclaimed.

  When they reached the motel, she got out. “I hope Hannah’s foot improves quickly,” she said, and waved Nancy out of sight.

  A minute later Nancy was on the main highway which paralleled Twin Lakes for some distance. Presently, as she left the lake area, Nancy cast a speculative glance toward the sky. Did she imagine it or was it beginning to cloud over?

  Nancy glanced at the speedometer. She was nearly halfway to River Heights. “Maybe I can get home before the storm breaks,” she told herself.

  A quarter of a mile farther on Nancy saw an obstruction in the road and brought the convertible to a halt. A huge sign read:

  DETOUR. BRIDGE OUT. TAKE MELROSE LAKE ROAD. An arrow pointed to the left.

  “Just when I’m in a hurry!” Nancy fumed, knowing she would have to go miles out of her way before reaching the River Heights road.

  Another anxious glance at the sky told her there was no time to be lost. Already huge storm clouds were appearing.

  “I’ll be caught in another cloudburst like the one on the lake,” she thought.

  Hastily she headed the car down the Melrose Lake detour, a narrow, rutty road bordered with tall pines and thick shrubbery. Nancy was forced to reduce her speed to ten miles an hour, and even then it seemed as though the car would shake to pieces.

  Within a few minutes it grew so dark that Nancy snapped on the headlights. Giant rain-drops began to strike the windshield. In a short time they were followed by a blinding downpour, and the deep ruts in the road filled up like miniature streams.

  “I’m in for it now,” Nancy groaned, as the car crept up a hill.

  Before she could reach a level stretch on the other side of the hill, the storm broke in all its fury. Trees along the roadside twisted and bent before the onslaughts of the rushing wind.

  It was difficult for Nancy to see the road ahead. She crawled along, endeavoring to keep the convertible’s wheels out of deep ruts. As she swerved to avoid a particularly large puddle, a blinding tongue of lightning streaked directly in front of the car.

  There was a flash of fire and simultaneously a deafening roar. For an instant, Nancy thought the car had been struck.

  Almost blinded, the girl jammed on the brakes in time to hear a splintering, ripping noise. Before her horrified eyes a pine tree fell earthward. The convertible seemed to be directly in its line of fall!

  “Oh!” Nancy gasped, as the tree missed her car by inches, landing directly in front of it.

  Nancy felt as though she were frozen in her seat. How closely she had escaped possible death! When she was breathing normally again, Nancy ruefully surveyed the tree which blocked the road. What was she to do?

  “I can’t go back because the bridge is out,” she told herself. “And there probably isn’t anyone within miles of this place.” She suddenly realized she had not seen another car going in either direction.

  As Nancy continued to gaze at the fallen tree, she decided it could be moved by two people.

  “Too bad I’m not twins,” she thought. “I wonder how long it will be before someone comes past here.”

  Finally Nancy decided to try pulling the tree aside. She reached in the back seat for plastic boots and a raincoat with a hood. After putting these on, she stepped outside.

  Gingerly picking her way through the mud and heavy rain, she walked to the fallen pine. She grasped the branches and tugged with all her might. The tree did not budge. Nancy next tried rolling it. This, too, she found was impossible.

  “Oh, this is maddening,” she thought, feeling completely frustrated.

  As another low roll of thunder broke the quietness of the woods, Nancy was delighted to see headlights approaching. A moment later a small jeep pulled up behind her car.

  The driver’s door opened and a young man’s voice said,
“Hello there! Having trouble?”

  “I sure am,” said Nancy, as he walked toward her and stood outlined in the convertible’s headlights. He appeared to be about seventeen, had dark hair, and twinkling eyes. Quickly Nancy explained about the fallen tree.

  “Wow! You were lucky that it missed you!” the boy cried, then added, “It will be easy for the three of us to move the tree.”

  “Three?” Nancy questioned.

  He laughed. “My sister’s in the jeep,” he explained, then called out, “Come on out, Cath!”

  They were joined by a pretty girl, whom Nancy guessed to be fourteen years old. Introductions were exchanged. The brother and sister were Jim and Cathy Donnell. They lived off the next main highway and were returning home from visiting friends.

  “I’m glad we came by,” Cathy said. “There’s only one house on this road and the people haven’t moved in yet for the summer.”

  After Jim had pulled some tangled pine branches away from the convertible, he and the two girls were able to lift the trunk. Little by little they moved the tree far enough aside so that the cars could drive ahead.

  “I’ll report this to the highway patrol when we get home,” said Jim.

  “Thanks so much for your help,” Nancy told the brother and sister. “By the way, do you know a Mr. and Mrs. Aborn who live at Melrose Lake?”

  “We certainly do,” said Cathy. “They’re the ones whose house is on this route. It’s a lovely place, with a lane leading to the house. You passed it about a mile back. The Aborns just bought the place.”

  “It’s a small world,” Nancy observed. She told the Donnells, however, that they were wrong about the Aborns not being at their home, and explained about meeting the couple and Laura Pendleton at Twin Lakes.

  Nancy tried to pull the fallen tree aside

  “That’s funny,” said Jim. He explained that his parents had known the Aborns for years. “They used to have a place on the other side of the larger lake, and bought this new house only a month ago. They mentioned that Laura Pendleton was coming to visit them, but said they were taking an extensive trip first.”

  “I see,” said Nancy, thinking, “Another strange angle to this thing!” Aloud she asked, “Is Mrs. Aborn a blond-haired woman, rather small and slight, Cathy?”

  “Yes.”

  Jim said that he and Cathy must say good-by. Their parents would be worried if they did not arrive home soon.

  “We’ll tell Mother and Dad about the Aborns and Laura,” said Jim. “We’re all keen to meet Laura. The Aborns think she must be tops!”

  “And we want to introduce Laura to our friends here at the lake,” Cathy added.

  “Grand!” Nancy said enthusiastically. “Laura has had a pretty sad time recently. She needs friends.”

  The three said good-by and got into their own cars. As Nancy drove on, she kept mulling over the Aborn-Pendleton enigma. She inferred from the Donnells’ remarks that the man and his wife were very acceptable people. But Nancy certainly had not received this impression of them.

  “I can’t wait to meet them again,” she thought, “and see how they’re treating Laura.”

  By the time Nancy reached the end of the detour, the storm was over. A little later she turned into the Drews’ driveway and parked near the front porch of the large red-brick house. She climbed from the car and made a dash for the porch with her suitcase.

  As she inserted her key in the lock and pushed the front door open, a voice called out from the living room, “Nancy? Is that you?”

  “Yes, Hannah. Be right in.”

  Nancy took off her raincoat and boots and put them in the vestibule closet. Then she hurried into the living room and hugged the motherly-looking woman, who was reclining on the sofa.

  “Hannah! I’m so sorry about your ankle. How are you feeling?”

  A worried expression faded from the housekeeper’s face as she said, “I’m fine, now that you’re home. This storm has been dreadful and I was concerned about you being on the road. Helen phoned that you were on your way.”

  Nancy told of the fallen tree at Melrose Lake, and how it had taken her longer than she had planned to make the trip.

  “Goodness!” the housekeeper exclaimed. Then she smiled. “Nancy, you’re like a cat with nine lives, the way you so often just miss being injured.”

  Nancy laughed. Then, becoming serious, she asked, “Where did Dad go?”

  “To the state capital,” Hannah replied, “and that reminds me, dear—you’re to call Mr. Drew at eight tonight—” She gave Nancy a slip of paper with a telephone number on it.

  “Did he say what he wanted?” Nancy inquired.

  A look of concern appeared on Hannah’s face as she said, “Mr. Drew wishes you to help him with an embezzlement case he’s investigating!”

  CHAPTER V

  The Unexpected Prowler

  AN EMBEZZLEMENT case! Nancy was excited. What, she wondered, did her father want her to do? The young detective longed to place a call to him immediately, but knew she must wait until eight o’clock.

  “Where is Mrs. Gleason’s sister?” she asked.

  Hannah said that the woman had left a short while before, after hearing that Nancy would be home by suppertime.

  “But first she fixed a chicken casserole dish for us,” Hannah added. “It’s all ready to pop in the oven. My dear, I hate to bother you—”

  Nancy grinned mischievously and teased, “You mean you hate to have anyone else but you reign in your kitchen. Don’t worry, Hannah, I’ll be neat.”

  “Oh posh!” said Hannah. She blushed and gave Nancy a loving glance.

  Humming softly, Nancy went to the modern pink-and-white kitchen. The casserole, which looked tempting, stood on one of the gleaming counter tops. After lighting the oven, Nancy placed the dish inside to heat.

  She set two wooden trays with doilies, napkins, and silver. Then, after placing bread and butter on each, Nancy poured two glasses of milk. Lastly, she made a crisp salad of lettuce and tomatoes and marinated it with a tangy French dressing.

  While waiting for the casserole, Nancy went back to the living room. Hannah was reading the evening paper.

  “You’re a wonderful help, dear,” the housekeeper said gratefully, looking up. “Tell me, did you enjoy your vacation?”

  “It was lovely,” said Nancy, and described the resort. She then told Hannah of the adventure on Twin Lakes and of Laura Pendleton and the Aborns.

  “Hannah, wouldn’t it be nice if Laura could visit us sometime soon?”

  “It certainly would.”

  By now their supper was ready and Nancy brought it in on the trays. After they had eaten, she put the dishes in the washer, then helped Hannah, who was using crutches, upstairs to bed. Nancy then went out to put her car in the garage, and returned to the house just as the clock was striking eight. She went to place the call to Carson Drew.

  Nancy looked at the series of numbers on the slip of paper Hannah had given her:

  942 HA 5-4727

  She dialed the long-distance number, and after one brief ring the phone on the other end was picked up.

  “Hotel Williamston,” the switchboard operator answered.

  “May I speak with Mr. Carson Drew?” his daughter requested.

  “One moment, please.”

  There was a pause, then the operator’s voice said, “I’m sorry but Mr. Drew checked out this evening.”

  “Did he say where he was going?” Nancy inquired in amazement.

  The desk clerk said no. Nancy thanked him and hung up, feeling oddly upset. It was unlike her father to change his plans without calling home to tell where he would be. Could anything have happened to him? she wondered.

  Since Hannah was asleep, Nancy did not awaken her to discuss the matter. Leaving on a light in the lower hall, she went to her own room and unpacked, deep in thought. As she hung up her dresses in the closet the young sleuth wondered if her father might be following a new clue in another city.


  Deciding that this probably was what had happened and that she would hear from her father the next morning, Nancy felt reassured, took a bath, and went to bed. She fell asleep almost immediately.

  Several hours later Nancy was awakened by the sound of a dull thud. She sat up and groped for the bedside light. Turning it on, she got out of bed and slipped into her robe and slippers.

  “I hope Hannah hasn’t fallen out of bed,” Nancy thought worriedly, and hurried down the carpeted hall to the housekeeper’s room.

  Peering in the bedroom door, Nancy saw that Hannah was sound asleep. Puzzled, Nancy went back to her own room. The girl detective had almost decided she had been dreaming, then she heard an even louder noise.

  The creaky window in the ground-floor library was being opened! Someone was entering the house!

  Alarmed, Nancy decided to call the police and tiptoed to the bedside telephone in Mr. Drew’s room. When the sergeant answered, she told him she would unlock the front door.

  Nancy tiptoed quietly down the stairs. Upon reaching the ground floor, she eyed the closed door of the library, located at the far end of the living room. Not a sound came from the library which Mr. Drew used as a study.

  With bated breath Nancy moved toward the front door and opened it. At that instant the library door was flung open. A man’s dark figure was outlined in the doorway. Nancy’s heart skipped three beats.

  As Nancy debated whether to run outdoors or upstairs, she heard a loud chuckle. At the same time, a table lamp was turned on.

  “Dad!” cried Nancy in disbelief, as color flooded back into her face. “Is it really you?”

  “Of course!” said Carson Drew, a tall, distinguished-looking man who right now seemed a little sheepish.

  He placed the brief case he was carrying on a table, then walked toward Nancy with outstretched arms. His daughter rushed into them and gave Mr. Drew a loving kiss.

  “You’re the best-looking burglar I’ve ever seen!” Nancy declared, and told her father of fearing the house was being entered. Then she clapped a hand to her face. “The police! I notified the police when I heard the window creaking open.”