The Mysterious Mannequin

by Carolyn Keene

  Aisha said that while Turkey is now western in its thinking, and has adopted the clothes, and business and banking methods of Europe, many of the old customs remain.

  “One of these is that married women stay in their homes a great part of the time. Later on you will probably see some of them in the mosques. They usually come in groups.”

  Aisha directed their driver to two estates on the outskirts of the city. The taxi carrying their companions pulled up behind. Mr. Hatun got out and went inside with Mr. Drew and the boys. He returned in a few minutes and his taxi followed the other.

  Presently they entered a gateway which was part of a highly ornamented iron fence. They went past lovely gardens with a profusion of roses and finally came to a large house. The architecture was like that of old Greece—an oblong building of smooth stone fronted with many columns.

  The group got out. Aisha and her mother led the way to the massive front door. They used the knocker once and the door was opened by a servant wearing a traditional Turkish uniform. He bowed low.

  As the man walked off to announce the new-comers to his master and mistress, Bess grabbed Nancy’s hand and whispered, “Oh, isn’t it romantic! I’m so glad we didn’t have to go to a hotel!”

  In a few minutes their host and his wife came in. They were wearing simple Western-style daytime clothes. Aisha introduced them as Mr. and Mrs. Hrozny, old friends.

  The couple shook hands and apologized for not speaking English very well. Mr. Hrozny said, “We are happy to have you come. We hope you will enjoy your visit.” His eyes twinkled. “Which is the young lady with the mystery?”

  Aisha presented Nancy. Then in turn she introduced Bess and George.

  After the visitors had freshened up, they enjoyed a delicious luncheon. It consisted of rice sprinkled with bits of lamb and served with a curry sauce. This was followed by small bowls of fruit with grapes, figs, and dates. A pink custard sauce had been poured over the fruit.

  A short time later, Mr. and Mrs. Hatun said they must start for home. When they had driven off, Aisha said, “Mr. and Mrs. Hrozny have engaged a small bus to take all of us sightseeing. As soon as you girls are ready, we will pick up the boys and start our tour.”

  She smiled. “I suppose the biggest clue to finding Farouk is the shoeshine stand. I do not know exactly where any are but we’ll look around the bazaars.”

  The bus driver was young and very handsome. Bess whispered to George and Nancy, “This place is so full of good-looking men, it’s fortunate I have a date of my own or I’d be tempted to accept an invitation from one of these Turkish boys.”

  “Better not let Dave hear you say that,” George advised. “Unless you pick out a man-nequin.” The others giggled.

  They picked up the boys at the Kokten home and started their tour. Mr. Drew went off to call on a law school acquaintance. The sightseers crossed the Ataturk Bridge once more and went directly to one of the mosques.

  “This is called the Suleymaniye Mosque,” Aisha said. “We will not go inside, but I brought you here to show you something I’m sure you have never seen in your country. The Koran states that anyone entering the mosque must have clean feet. There are several places outside the building for foot bathing.”

  There was a parklike area at one side of the building. In it stood a small circular section depressed below the ground. There was a ledge all the way around for men to sit on. Below the ledge were faucets of water. Farther on, hugging the side of the mosque was a row of faucets with benches to sit on and bathe one’s feet. Nearly all of them were filled.

  “Now all these men will go inside and pray,” Aisha said. “You know Moslems pray five times a day.”

  The visitors left the park and the bus took them to the outskirts of the Grand Bazaar. Aisha ex plained that the shops in it paid rent to the Blue Mosque. Excitedly the group walked toward the huge conglomerate of shops under one vast roof. Just before entering it, Nancy grabbed Ned’s arm.

  “A shoeshine stand!”

  In front of a building stood the ornate object with colorful tile insets depicting old-time scenes. Apparently they had been taken from Turkish legend and were framed in a rectangle of gold. On either side of it were golden winglike projections that glistened in the sun.

  The shoeshine man sat behind it cross-legged. He smiled at the group. On impulse Nancy decided to ask him if he spoke English. If so, she would inquire if he knew Mr. Farouk Tahmasp.

  As she approached the shoeshine man, he stood up, waved his arms wildly, and cried out, “Yok! Yok!”’

  Nancy was puzzled. She asked Aisha what Yok meant and was told, “an emphatic no.” The Turkish girl spoke to the man, then translated. “He thinks you want to have your shoes shined, but says he never shines a woman’s shoes on her feet.”

  The shoeshine man waved his arms wildly and cried out, “Yokl Yok!”

  The young people smiled at the misunderstanding and Nancy said, “I don’t want my shoes shined. I was merely going to ask if he knows Farouk.”

  The shoeshine man said he had never served nor heard of Farouk Tahmasp. While they were talking, George noticed a young man running toward them.

  She turned to the Turkish girl and asked, “Aisha, is this Farouk coming?”

  The girl looked. For a few seconds she did not reply. The others watched tensely. Finally the man drew closer and Aisha shook her head. A look of disappointment crossed her face.

  Bess put an arm over the girl’s shoulders. “Cheer up, Aisha,” she said. “We’ll find him yet.”

  The Turkish girl said nothing and led the way into the bazaar. The din was deafening! Bells jangled. Hawkers called out their wares, ranging from copper cooking utensils to leather luggage. Crowds of people, mostly Turkish men and tourists, milled along the narrow streets. Dogs roamed at will. The whole area was well-lighted by unshaded electric bulbs in many of the open-front shops, particularly where men were urging passers-by to purchase their jewelry. There were markets with cuts of lamb and dried fish hanging up, and bakeries with baklava and other pastries.

  The travelers rambled on. They decided to keep close together, because there were so many people coming and going that one could easily become separated from the group. But every now and then one of them would pause to look at the various articles for sale and would have to catch up with the others.

  Aisha became concerned and requested that all of them stay with the group. After walking several blocks, she came to a halt.

  “You say in your country you count noses,” she said, smiling. “I will now count your noses.”

  Bess was not with them.

  “Did anyone see her?” Dave asked, worried.

  “Not lately,” they all admitted.

  Dave said nervously, “She was right alongside me back there a little ways. I’ll go and look for her.”

  “We will all go,” said Aisha.

  They peered into every shop as they retraced their steps. Bess was not in any of them nor was she on the street. Her friends became genuinely alarmed.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  Bazaar Kidnapping

  ABOUT fifteen minutes before the search for Bess had begun, she had been intrigued by a perfume shop on a street corner in the bazaar.

  The owner peered from the doorway at her. “Come in, lady,” he invited. “I give you free sam ple.”

  As a mixture of delightful scents drifted outside, Bess said to herself, “The place smells heav enly. If his perfumes are this good, I really should buy some to take home.”

  She stepped inside. There were shelves on three sides of the room filled with large bottles. On a counter stood dozens of small glass flacons encased in gold filigree.

  “You pick,” the man said to Bess. “I put perfume in bottle.”

  He took down several of the large jars and with a long glass rod began to daub various scents on Bess’s arms.

  “Which you like?” the shopkeeper asked.

  Many of the scents smelled like spices mixed with flowe
rs. Bess liked them all and could not make up her mind which one to buy.

  “They’re all lovely,” she said, sniffing at one bottle, then another.

  Meanwhile the man reached under the counter and brought out a midget-sized bottle of perfume. He handed it to Bess. “My compliments to lady from the United States,” he said, bowing. “You will like.”

  Bess giggled as she thanked him. “And I think I will buy this scent,” she said, pointing to an area on one arm just below her elbow.

  “Very good taste,” the perfume dealer remarked. “Very good indeed.”

  For the first time Bess became aware of the man’s looks. He was tall and slender and had very white skin. He wore a tiny mustache and his hair was dark and wavy.

  “You are Turkish?” she asked.

  The shopkeeper smiled. “I am half Turkish, half French. My father—he is perfume maker in France. I learned from him.”

  “Do you make all these kinds yourself?” Bess inquired.

  “Yes.”

  He poured out the scent Bess had chosen into a gold filigree bottle. Before he finished, a boy of about seventeen came into the shop. He addressed himself to Bess.

  “Pardon, mademoiselle. I was sent to tell you your party is waiting.”

  “Oh, thank you,” said Bess. She told the perfume dealer she would be back to buy more perfume, paid for her purchase, and started from the shop.

  “I show you where your party is,” the boy said.

  For the first time Bess realized she had been in the perfume store for some time. Presently her escort pointed up a side street. “Your party in shop there. Come!”

  Bess hurried along after him. It seemed like a long way up the covered street of the bazaar. Finally he stopped before a display of Turkish rugs behind an iron grillwork.

  Suddenly Bess became suspicious. She did not see her friends anywhere.

  The boy must have guessed her thoughts because he said, “Your party look at pictures in back room and talk to man.”

  Bess craned her neck and thought she saw George’s back. It occurred to her that Nancy had investigated the rug shop and perhaps had found Farouk! As she stepped into the outer room of the shop, her escort slammed the iron grating doorway shut and locked it. Grabbing the key, he called to someone in the rear room in Turkish.

  Bess was terrified. She wanted to scream but not a sound came from her throat. She had been deliberately trapped. But why? And who was in back of it?

  A moment later she found out. A young man came to the outer room. He looked at Bess, gave a low sardonic chuckle, then said, “You are here because you are friend of Nancy Drew. You will be prisoner of my family until I get treasure hidden inside the mannequin belonging to Farouk Tahmasp.”

  Bess was shaking like a leaf but she managed to stutter, “I—I don’t know anything about a treasure and we didn’t find the mannequin. What do you want with me?”

  The man stared at Bess a long time as if he did not know whether to believe her or not. Finally he shrugged. “It does not matter. You will stay here until I get it!”

  Bess was in a panic. She must escape. But how?

  Just then a woman appeared and escorted her into the rear room. The only other person there was a little girl of about ten, who evidently was her child. On a table in one corner stood a telephone. The older man pointed to it.

  “Telephone Nancy Drew and tell her to meet you at the big hotel on the hill.”

  Bess’s heart leaped with joy. She figured that the man had had a change of heart and soon would let her go free since she did not know where the mannequin or the treasure was.

  “Say nothing more than what I told you,” the man directed.

  He handed Bess a telephone book and after a struggle she found the number of the Hrozny house. She pointed it out to the man who put in the call. As soon as someone answered, he motioned to Bess to reply.

  To her delight Dave was on the other end. If only she could tell him what had happened! But she did not dare. She gave him the message exactly as she had been told.

  “Where are you? What happened?” Dave replied in bewilderment. “I’ve been worried about you.”

  Bess glanced at her captor and repeated the message, then he put down the phone.

  Deeply worried about his date’s whereabouts, Dave waited impatiently for one of the others in the group to call. It had been arranged that he would hurry to the Hrozny house on a chance that Bess, having become separated from the rest of the group, might have returned there.

  Nancy was to telephone later to find out. In the meantime they would continue the search in the bazaar. Bess’s friends queried various shopkeepers and some American tourists, but none of them had seen a girl fitting Bess’s description. Her friends became more and more alarmed.

  Aisha had gone off to make some inquiries in her native tongue, hoping for some clue to Bess’s whereabouts. She returned to report a vain search also.

  “It’s about time to call Dave,” said Nancy. “Aisha, where will we find a phone?”

  The Turkish girl led her into a shop that sold all kinds of leather goods—saddles, riding boots, purses and luggage. Aisha made the call. Nancy was relieved when she saw a smile break over the girl’s face.

  “Bess is home?” she asked as Aisha put down the phone.

  “No, but she wants to meet you at the big hotel overlooking the city. I suppose she didn’t know the name of it.” Suddenly a look of concern crossed the girl’s face. “Dave said Bess gave no explanation for her disappearance—just repeated the message.”

  “That’s not like Bess,” said Nancy.

  “What if she’s in trouble!” George remarked fearfully.

  “I know the bazaar is crowded and it’s easy to become separated,” Nancy put in, “but we weren’t walking very fast and I don’t see why Bess couldn’t have caught up to us easily. I’m terribly worried about her.”

  Burt frowned. “Do you think the phone call Dave took could have been a hoax?”

  “Not necessarily,” Nancy replied. “But someone may have forced her to make it. I haven’t any idea who would want to kidnap Bess or why. If Bess is really at the hotel I’ll be the most relieved person in the world.”

  It was a pretty somber group that made its way by taxis through the city and up the hill to the attractive hotel that overlooked the city and its beautiful harbor. Nancy and her friends quickly alighted from the taxis and went into the spacious lobby. Bess Marvin was not in sight.

  “Just as I suspected,” Nancy thought.

  Dave arrived in a few minutes. “Is she here?” he asked quickly.

  “No.”

  The distraught boy began pacing the floor nervously. “Where is she?” He caught the worried expressions on the faces of the others. “Has something happened that I don’t know about? Tell me.”

  Nancy said, “It’s only a hunch—and I hope I’m wrong—but I’m afraid Bess is being held prisoner somewhere and won’t come.”

  “Then why did she ask you to meet her here?” Dave wanted to know.

  “We may get another message,” Nancy answered. “I think that as long as we all stay together, there is not much likelihood of a messenger coming to me. I suggest that you all scatter and hide in advantageous places. If a stranger does come to talk to me or deliver a note, you boys follow him. Please.”

  The young people sauntered off and disappeared from view, some inside the building, the rest outside.

  Fifteen minutes went by. Nancy, seated in a chair facing the entrance to the hotel, had just begun to wonder if her theory was wrong when a boy about seventeen years old approached her. He bowed politely.

  “Pardon, mademoiselle. I have seen pictures of you. You are Miss Nancy Drew from River Heights of USA?”

  “Yes.”

  “Someone admires you very much. He asked me to bring a message.”

  From his shabby pocket he pulled a small letter. With another little bow he handed it to Nancy, then without saying good-by hurried o
ff.

  Nancy jumped up, her suspicions thoroughly aroused. She did not wait to read the letter. Instead she spotted Ned near a pillar and quickly gave him the high sign to follow the boy. She herself hurried out the door. George was at her heels.

  “Who is he?” she asked Nancy.

  The young detective did not reply. She had seen a man emerge from a taxi and go after the Turkish boy. She recognized him.

  “George!” cried Nancy. “That’s Aslanapa! I’ll bet he saw us. He’s going to warn that messenger he’ll be followed and not to reveal where Bess is hidden!”

  CHAPTER XIX

  An Arrest

  ASLANAPA was fleet-footed, but before he could overtake the messenger, he apparently realized that Ned, Burt, and Dave were after the boy. The bearded, mustached suspect suddenly turned and went down the side street.

  A traffic policeman stood on the corner. Aisha spoke to him, briefly telling him that one of their party might have been kidnapped. “We think that the man we were chasing may be the guilty person.” At once the officer began running with the girls.

  “There he goes!” George cried out. “Into that garden!”

  The pursuers rushed in after him and the officer found the man, crouched down, hiding behind some low-growing evergreens.

  “He’s the one all right!” Nancy said, seeing a gold filigree bracelet studded with turquoise on one arm. “His name is Aslanapa.”

  The suspect, realizing he was cornered, was silent.

  Nancy went on, “Officer, I accuse this man of having entered my home in the United States and of trying to steal a special rug made here in Istanbul. Later he came back and left a scimitar to frighten me.”

  George spoke up. “He was making scimitars and master keys to sell without a license and was wanted by the police in the United States.”

  Nancy added, “One of the girls in our group has disappeared. We think he is holding her somewhere, probably for ransom.”

  Remembering the note in her pocket, she read it quickly and said, “Here is a message ordering me to give information about a treasure secreted in a mannequin. Otherwise my kidnapped friend will not be released.”