The Swami's Ring

by Carolyn Keene

  “Please—please. Let me explain,” the manager replied. He raised his hand, signaling the crowd to be quiet. “Your tickets will be honored at every performance. Nothing has been canceled. Believe me.”

  Somebody must’ve gotten hold of the festival’s mailing list and sent that announcement just to stir up trouble, Nancy concluded.

  She waited for the crowd to disperse, then approached the manager.

  “I’m Carson Drew’s daughter,” she said brightly, watching the man’s relaxed demeanor fade.

  Had the ill will of some of the townspeople toward the attorney filtered down to the festival management?

  “What can I do for you?” the manager answered coolly.

  “Well, I was wondering if you had any idea about the person who sent that cancellation notice.”

  “Why don’t you ask your father?” the man snapped, and before Nancy could come to her father’s defense, he excused himself.

  Now, more than ever, she was determined to vindicate the Drew name.

  All the way to the restaurant where she was to meet George and Bess, the girl constructed her next move. When they were all finally seated at a vacant table, Bess’s eyes sparkled.

  “You’re awfully happy today,” Nancy commented.

  Bess shook her head excitedly, while George smiled pleasantly. Had the cousins made some important discovery? Nancy wondered.

  “Don’t keep me in suspense,” she told them. “Did you find Cliff, or do you know where—”

  “No, nothing that spectacular,” George mumbled.

  “But I think we’ve figured out an ingenious way to find his ring,” Bess put in. “Since it’s so unusual—”

  “And valuable,” George added.

  “All we have to do is put an ad in the newspaper,” her cousin finished.

  “But if the guy who ran off with it is a thief, why would he even consider selling it back? I’m sure he’s not stupid.”

  “True, but I bet he’s greedy,” Bess replied, “and if the reward is tempting enough, he might just fall into the trap.”

  Nancy half agreed, but was far from convinced and changed the subject momentarily. She brought the girls up to date on everything that had happened so far, ending with the information about Dev Singh.

  “Do you have time now to check out his address?” Nancy asked her friends.

  “Sure,” George said. “Let’s go.”

  The threesome ate their lunch quickly, then headed for Nancy’s car, as another idea occurred to Bess.

  “Mr. Jhaveri’s store isn’t far from here,” she noted. “I’d like to find out what he thinks Cliff s ring is worth.”

  So the girls changed direction and walked a few blocks up the street. There were only four customers inside the store, and when they dwindled to one lone woman admiring the contents of a display case in the corner, Nancy and the girls spoke to the jeweler.

  “How much would you estimate the ring we showed you is worth?” Nancy asked.

  “Oh, that’s hard to say. The gold itself could bring a handsome price.”

  “Can’t you be more specific?” Bess pressed him.

  “Offhand, I’m afraid not. But if you give me a little time to think, I may be able to give you an answer.”

  As he talked, Nancy thought she detected someone in the office behind the man. But then she realized it was only an unframed photograph that reflected in a wall mirror. She had not paid attention to it on previous visits. This time, however, she found herself transfixed. It was a picture of someone who bore an uncanny resemblance to Keshav Lal!

  “Is something wrong?” George whispered to the girl.

  “N-no,” Nancy said, blinking her eyes in another direction. Then, on impulse, she asked Mr. Jhaveri if he knew Lal.

  “He’s my cousin,” the man remarked with a touch of surprise in his voice. “You know him?”

  “I met him at the Swain Lake Lodge,” Nancy said, stringing out her thoughts slowly. “It just hit me that you might have some information about the swami’s retreat.”

  Mr. Jhaveri shook his head vigorously. “I’ve never been there,” he said.

  “But you are aware of it,” Nancy said.

  “Yes, of course. Many of us Indians are, but I personally am not a follower of Ramaswami.”

  Nancy was even tempted to inquire if he knew someone by the name of Dev Singh, but decided not to until she had investigated him further. Instead, she continued her current line of questioning.

  “Mr. Lal directed me to a trail,” Nancy said, “but I’d bet there’s another, easier route.”

  The man simply shrugged his shoulders, and as the lady customer came forward, he took advantage of the opportunity to escape from the girls.

  They left, puzzling over their latest discovery.

  “He seemed awfully nervous when you mentioned Lal’s name,” George told Nancy.

  “I know, but why?”

  No answer occurred to any of them as they drove to the address which the police said belonged to Dev Singh. When the young detectives reached it, however, they were completely stumped, because standing on the site was not a house or an apartment building, but a place called Hamburger Haven!

  “Too bad we already ate lunch,” George said, as their car hummed in the driveway.

  “And too bad we’re not getting anywhere,” Bess added with a sigh.

  Nancy, too, had secretly begun to feel defeated, but she flashed an optimistic smile at her friends. “I have a hunch there’s an answer to this mystery just around the corner!” she exclaimed.

  12

  Escape Lane

  “What makes you so optimistic?” Bess asked Nancy as she backed the car out of the driveway.

  “Because I just realized we’re on the wrong street.” The girl laughed. “Singh’s place is on River Lane, not River Drive.”

  She pointed to the bold green sign that hung a quarter of a mile down the road. There was an exit off the drive for River Lane.

  The ride along the water’s edge was exhilarating as the girls rolled down the car windows and let the breeze carry in the fresh, sweet smell of grass and wildflowers.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a picnic down here?” George suggested.

  “Why, I can’t believe you said that, George Fayne,” her cousin teased. “You, a girl who never thinks about food.”

  “It’s a great idea,” Nancy interposed, believing they’d all be ready for a celebration when the latest mysteries were solved.

  The question was, Would they ever be?

  She turned off the drive, jogging onto one street, then another, until she was on River Lane. It curved into the countryside, no houses immediately visible behind fences of hedge and poplar trees. Then, with no forewarning, the road stopped.

  “Now what?” Bess said, as Nancy halted the car.

  “This is getting to be ridiculous,” she remarked unhappily and swung the car around. “I didn’t see one house number, did you?”

  “Uh-uh,” George said.

  “Me neither,” Bess added, but on the return ride Nancy slowed the car down considerably, pausing at a trail of gravel off the road. “Driveway?” Bess said.

  “We’ll soon find out,” Nancy said, making the sharp turn.

  The car dipped into several potholes, which caused Nancy to keep her eyes trained for others and not on the house at the top of the hillock. When they pulled in front of it at last, they all sighed, feeling the ride itself had been an accomplishment.

  “It doesn’t look like anyone’s around,” Nancy commented shortly.

  “There’s no house number, either,” Bess said, suddenly feeling queasy. “I don’t know if this is such a hot idea, Nancy. I mean, what if Singh does live here and he tries to kidnap us too.”

  “For one thing, there are three of us and only one of him,” George declared.

  “How do you know?” her cousin replied.

  Undaunted, however, Nancy went boldly up the front steps to ring the doorbell.
No one came immediately, and she stood on her toes to glance through the small windowpane at the top of the door.

  “This must be Singh’s place,” she told the others as she stared at a pair of batik wall hangings with Indian motifs.

  “Oh, let’s get out of here,” Bess pleaded, but her listeners did not pay attention.

  Nancy cupped her ear against the door, sensing for a moment that she had heard noises from within. Had Singh brought Cliff there? Had the young man heard the car approaching, and was he struggling to let the visitors know of his imprisonment?

  The girl detective was determined to find out!

  “We can’t just break in,” Bess warned, while Nancy skirted the house to a side window, trying to open it.

  “But what if Cliff is tied up in there?” Nancy countered.

  “Even so, I vote we bring the police back with a search warrant,” Bess said.

  But as she spoke, they could hear the purr of a car engine at the bottom of the driveway.

  “Oh, somebody’s coming!” Bess exclaimed nervously. “What’ll we do?”

  “They’ll see us for sure,” George said, glancing at Nancy’s car.

  “C‘mon!” Nancy declared, leaping toward it. “Those potholes will slow them down a little bit.”

  She turned the ignition and pressed the accelerator gently, letting the car roll forward onto a crescent of grass that curved around the far side of the house.

  “It’s the best I can do for now,” the young detective said. She switched off the engine and listened to the sound of the other one growing louder. “You wait here,” she told her friends. “I want to see who it is.”

  “But Nan—” Bess cried fearfully.

  Her friend nonetheless stepped out of her car, leaving the door open in case she wanted to dive back in fast, and ran to the high bushes that hugged the front wall. She peered through the thick cover of leaves, listening to two men. They sat talking and, to her relief, did not seem to notice the wheel marks of the car that lay ahead. Their car, she observed quickly, did not match the description of the one her neighbor’s son had seen at the Drew home.

  Who are they? Nancy wondered as the driver finally appeared. Then, almost instantaneously, his companion slid out into view.

  It’s the man in the business suit I saw at Swain Lake Lodge! Nancy gasped, suddenly realizing that he and the bearded stranger who had attacked Cliff in the hospital were one and the same! With him was the tall Indian man who had been with him in Mr. Jhaveri’s store!

  We have to get the police! the girl said to herself.

  She darted to the car, telling her friends everything as the men went inside the house.

  “But we’re stuck!” Bess cried. “And as soon as they realize we’re here, we’ll be done for, too!”

  Nancy, however, had studied the slope of lawn that sprawled alongside the driveway that now held an obstacle—the men’s car!

  “Hang on!” she said, starting the ignition again, and spun the vehicle across the gravel and down the grassy incline, bypassing the potholes and lurching onto the road.

  Bess had closed her eyes in a shiver of fear as Nancy urged the gas pedal.

  “There’s a public phone on River Drive,” George remarked, seeing the glass booth come into view.

  Without saying a word, Nancy screeched the car to a halt and leaped out, dialing River Heights police. She told them where she was and where she suspected Cliff was being held captive, then returned to her friends.

  “They’re on their way,” Nancy said, “and they advised me to stay here.”

  “Thank goodness,” Bess replied, still trembling as a patrol car with two officers inside whizzed toward them.

  In the driver’s seat was the young officer who had gone to the Drews’ home when Cliff was reported missing. He signaled Nancy to follow.

  When they turned onto River Lane, Nancy flashed her headlights, indicating the gravel driveway several yards ahead. The patrol car slowed down, pitching over the potholes with caution and coming to a halt when they reached the car parked in front of the house. Nancy and the girls pulled in behind them, hurrying after the officers.

  “Open up!” the young policeman yelled, knocking hard on the door.

  To Nancy’s amazement, someone responded immediately. It was the Indian man whom she had seen arrive only moments before.

  “Are you Dev Singh?” she asked at once.

  “Why no, and I never heard of him.” His high cheekbones resolved into deep-set eyes that gaped at Nancy in puzzlement.

  “Let me see your identification,” the policeman said, prompting the man to pull out an immigration card that bore the name Prem Nath.

  “I’ve been in this country only a short time, so I don’t have any credit cards.” He chuckled softly.

  The other policeman, meantime, flashed a search warrant, saying, “We’re looking for a young man who was kidnapped recently.”

  “And you think I am responsible?” the Indian replied, laughing.

  “Where is the man you came with?” George asked.

  “What man?”

  “His name is Flannery,” Nancy said crisply, even though she suspected that it was an alias.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about. Now please—”

  But the officers moved past him, the girls also, and they spread out to look in every room. Flannery was not there, and neither was Cliff! Had Flannery ducked out of the house to hide among the trees? Nancy was tempted to search the grounds, until the police spoke apologetically to the man.

  “We’re sorry to have troubled you, Mr. Nath,” one of the men said, satisfied that he had committed no wrongdoing.

  Nancy, however, remained unconvinced. She knew Flannery, or whoever the man was, had taken Cliffs ring. Unfortunately, though, he had escaped capture this time. It was useless to pursue the subject with the police until she had more definite evidence.

  “I just don’t get it,” George said. “The car was registered in Singh’s name at this address, but there’s a guy named Nath living here.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Bess said. “According to Nancy’s neighbor, he saw Singh’s car leave the Drew home, but he didn’t say Cliff was in it. We assume so, but there’s nothing conclusive to prove it.”

  “Maybe Singh did live at the house at one time, but moved out before his car registration came due for renewal,” Nancy added. “Anyway, as you say, Bess, none of this matters a whole lot. We just want to find Cliff.”

  As she drove toward home, she began to think about Swain Lake Lodge again. What was Flannery doing up there?

  13

  Technical Attack

  By the time the girls reached the parking lot where Bess and George had left their car, they asked Nancy about her plans for the rest of the day.

  “As a matter of fact,” she said, “I haven’t any—”

  “I don’t believe it,” Bess said.

  “Other than visiting Tommy, calling Angela Pruett, hunting for Phyllis, and—”

  “St-o-p!” George teased, putting her hands over her ears. “Don’t you ever take a break?”

  “Oh, sure.” Nancy laughed. “I was just going to ask if you’d like to see Oklahoma tonight? The Jansen Theater Troupe is putting it on.”

  “I’d love to,” Bess said happily, “and maybe Dave would.”

  “How about the six of us going together?” George put in.

  Nancy nodded in agreement, asking the cousins to check with their friends Dave Evans and Burt Eddleton while she called Ned.

  “Can you make reservations, too?” she asked the girls.

  “No problem,” Bess said. “Talk to you later.”

  “‘Bye,” Nancy replied, heading her car for Rosemont Hospital and a quick visit with Tommy Johnson.

  To her amazement and delight, she found him walking in a leg cast with the aid of crutches.

  “You’ll be out of here in no time,” she said to the little boy.

  “I hope so,” he decla
red, smiling. “There’s nobody to play with around here.”

  He lay the crutches against his bed, allowing Nancy to help him up.

  “Well, what about me?” she asked, pretending to pout.

  “You’re different, Nancy,” he said. “Everybody else just wants to take my temperature.”

  The girl laughed, opening a small shopping bag and peering inside with great relish.

  “What’s in there?” Tommy said eagerly.

  Nancy strung out the surprise until she thought the boy would jump out of bed. “Here you are,” the girl said, producing a toy racing car.

  “Zowie!” Tommy cried happily. He ran the tiny wheels up and down his cast, then over the mattress, onto the night table, and back again.

  Nancy giggled. “I’m sure your doctor never dreamed that cast would turn into a racetrack!”

  When she left the boy’s room, he was still playing with the car, rumbling like an engine, and laughing in between.

  “I’ll be back,” the girl told him, though she wasn’t sure when her next visit would be.

  She stopped by the nurses’ station to leave a message for Lisa Scotti, and was pleased to find her friend there in person.

  “The strangest thing happened this morning,” Lisa whispered to Nancy. “We got a phone call from someone who said his name was Cliff.”

  “You’re kidding!” Nancy replied.

  “Of course, I was positive it was some crackpot,” Lisa went on.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I knew Cliff was staying at your house.”

  “Not anymore,” Nancy said, revealing the full story.

  Lisa was completely shocked, saying she wouldn’t have bothered to tell Nancy about the call except that she had stopped by the hospital.

  “Oh, Lisa, you must tell me everything that happens if it’s pertinent to Cliffs case.”

  “Now that I think about it,” Lisa said, “the voice did sound like Cliffs, but I can’t be certain. There was a lot of static in the background.”

  “What did he say?” Nancy questioned.

  “Not much, really, but it had something to do with singing.”