The Clue of the Screeching Owl (9 page)
Read The Clue of the Screeching Owl Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
“What's this little one he's shading in with the pencil?” Joe asked. “A gray dog?”
“Gray or brown,” Frank returned. “See, he's left one ear white.”
“Brown with a white earâthat's Bobby Thompson's Skippy!” exclaimed Chet. “So Donner stole Skippy, too!”
Upon hearing the man's name, Simon raised his head once with an angry scowl, then finished his picture by drawing a line from each dog to Donner.
Then the mute boy stood up quickly from the table. His eager eyes showed that he had something more to communicate. He pointed to Donner's picture, then to Mystery. Suddenly Simon crouched down behind a chair and peered out.
“He's trying to tell us that he was hidingâbehind a tree, perhaps,” Frank interpreted.
Simon's one arm was tensed, with the fingers spread as though holding something heavy. “As if he's holding a rock or club,” Frank deduced.
Abruptly Simon leaped out from behind the chair. He struggled with an imaginary antagonist, swinging the hand that held the “rock.” Next, he seemed to clutch something else, in both arms and to be running away with it.
“That's Mystery he's holding now!” Chet said excitedly. “He means he waited in ambush for Donner tonight, then hit him with a rock and ran off with Mystery himself!”
“Oh, great!” thought the bewildered Joe. “Simon and Donner are blaming the dog stealing on each other now. Who is guilty?”
While Frank and Chet, too, looked puzzled, Joe said aloud, “Well, there's one thing I want to know.” He turned to Simon. “Why did you throw stones at us this afternoon?”
Going to the table once more, Simon quickly produced sketches of three very lifelike rattlesnakes. Frowning, he looked at Frank and Joe, and made as though to push them away with his hands.
“I get it! He was trying to warn us about those deadly snakes, not hurt us,” Frank said.
“Well, he sure picked a forceful way to do it!” Joe rubbed his forehead ruefully. “That would mean he didn't think we were in cahoots with Donner.”
Frank nodded. “Simon's given us something to work with. It seems pretty clear the self-styled hermit has been stealing dogs, and for my money, that ties him in with Captain Maguire's disappearance, too.”
“You think the captain went after the dognaper himself and ran into trouble?” Joe queried.
“Well, apparently the captain had a dog,” his brother reasoned. “Now suppose Donner stole the animal and Captain Maguire traced him to the hollow. Then suppose when he got down there the captain saw something he wasn't supposed to see.”
“Then Donner, or somebody, had to get him out of the way because he knew too much!” Joe finished grimly. “Remember the blood we found on the leaves?”
Absorbed in this new possibility, Frank, Joe, and Chet failed to notice that Simon had been making his way quietly toward the back door. In a moment the tall boy had slipped out into the night!
“Hey!” called Chet. “Stop him!”
“No, let him go,” said Frank Hardy calmly. “Simon's on our side, all right.”
“I just wish we could do something to help him,” Joe put in. “With his talent for drawing he might make out very well in spite of his handicap. He should go to a special art school.”
Frank agreed, then said reflectively, “I can't seem to get Colonel Thunder out of my mind, and his resemblance to Donner. Also, I wonder if it could be more than coincidence that the German word for thunder is
donner.
What do you say we find the carnival, and talk to the colonel? He just
might
be a relative of Donner.”
donner.
What do you say we find the carnival, and talk to the colonel? He just
might
be a relative of Donner.”
“Suppose we drive to Forestburg in the morning,” Joe suggested. “Maybe we can learn something there about the Donner family, and find out where the carnival is. Besides, it's about time we called Mother to see how things are in Bayport!”
Morning dawned bright and fresh after the rain, everything seemed greener than before, and the boys' spirits rose. Frank and Joe emerged from the cabin, followed by Chet, who cradled Mystery in his arms. But suddenly Frank stopped and frowned.
“Ohâoh! So much excitement last night we forgot to put up the convertible top before the storm. Now look!”
Sure enough, there were puddles on the floor of the Hardys' car, and the seats, though protected by covers, were wet. The boys mopped up the water.
“Let's take Captain Maguire's car,” said Joe. “If the captain's enemies see it, they may think he escaped, and that will bring them into the open.”
The three set off with Joe at the wheel, Frank beside him, and Mystery and Chet in the rear.
Apparently the back seat was comfortable, for by the time the car entered Forestburg, both Chet Morton and the beagle were fast asleep.
“Let 'em alone.” Frank laughed. “Last night was too exciting, I guess. You and I can do the detective work, Joe.”
The two boys walked a block to the courthouse. Because it was only eight o'clock, the streets had little traffic. Frank and Joe, alert with curiosity, looked around. Many stores had offices above. In one upstairs window, which Joe pointed out, was a small sign:
WYCKOFF WEBBERAttorney-at-Law
The brothers crossed the street to the courthouse. No one was at work yet.
“Well, let's try the stores,” suggested Joe. “Somebody here must know the Donners.”
During the next hour the two young detectives went from shop to shop asking questions about the Donner family. Although one or two clerks or storekeepers admitted the name “sounded familiar,” nobody could give any definite information.
“I'll tell you what we're up against,” said the exasperated Joe. “Some of these people are new in town, and they just don't know the Donners. The others know them, but won't talk to us. We're outsiders, and they think we're prying into local affairs that aren't any of our business!”
“Maybe so,” agreed Frank. “But there's one shop I have to visit fast!” He indicated a tailor's establishment at the end of the block.
“What for?” demanded his brother, puzzled.
“Just discovered,” muttered Frank, “I have a hole in my slacksâmust have caught them on the rocks last night!”
A little man with shining bald head and thin black hair at the temples greeted them across the counter of the shop. “Yes?”
“Can you mend a pair of pants while I wait?” Frank asked him.
The little man smiled, showing two gold teeth. “Of course. Will you come in back, please?”
A moment later Frank and Joe were seated in the back room. Articles to be mended lay in a heap on the floor. Snippets of cloth were everywhere. Taking Frank's trousers, the man sat down at his worktable and examined the rip.
A bolt of handsome, untouched flannel drew Frank's attention. “Do you have many orders for custom-made suits?” he asked the tailor curiously.
The little man sighed. “In this country, no,” he answered. “Now it is all factory-made suits. There is no real work for a tailor any more, only patching holes, altering pants.
“Forty years I've had this shop,” the man went on reminiscently as he mended. “Now my main business is dry cleaning. But twenty, thirty years ago, we had people that liked fine clothes, custom clothes! The Blackwells, Altgelts, Donners. Many fine suits I have made for them!”
“Donner?” repeated Frank.
“Yes, the Donners. A fine old family when I first came here. A family with style, distinctionâthey knew good clothes. There was old Mr. Donner, a tall, handsome man. And his wife, oh, she was stylish. And a beautiful daughter there was, and twin boysâtall, good-looking fellows like the father. Looked so much alike you couldn't tell them apart.”
“Twins!” Joe exclaimed. But instantly he suppressed his excitement, and asked casually, “Must have been quite a family. What became of them?”
The tailor shook his head. “Scattered. Old folks gone, of course....The young lady? I don't know. Mr. William, one of the twinsâhe's left town too. Only Mr. Walter I see once in a while.” The man sighed. “He doesn't dress up like he used to. Just wears sport clothes and doesn't come in here any more.”
In high excitement, Frank put on his mended slacks. “By the way,” he asked the tailor, “do you know where Klatch's Carnival is now? We've seen it once, but my brother here would like to see the show again.”
Silently the man rummaged in a wastebasket, and then handed Frank an old poster with the carnival's schedule printed on it. Elated, the boys hurried from the shop. On their way to the car Frank stopped at an outdoor telephone booth to call his mother.
“Everything's well here, Frank,” came Mrs. Hardy's familiar musical voice from Bayport. “The latest word from Dad is that the men he's after are very clever, and he hasn't made much headway on the case.”
Laughingly, his mother added, “Iola sends her love to her brother Chet.”
“How about Joe?” asked Frank, grinning through the glass of the booth at his brother outside. Lively Iola Morton was Joe's date. “And, Mother, have you heard from Callie lately?” Callie Shaw was Frank's own favorite girl.
“Not a word. You boys had better not stay away too long, or both girls will find other escorts.”
When Frank left the booth he found his brother staring across the street. Directly opposite the boys was a house with a doctor's sign.
“Look who's coming down the walk!” Joe whispered. “Walter Donner!”
Frank's eyes followed the tall man, who evidently had not seen them. Donner wore a white bandage wrapped around his head.
“Guess Simon really did hit him with a rock,” said Joe.
“Sure looks like it,” Frank replied. “Come on! Let's see if we can find Klatch's Carnival for a talk with Donner's double. Colonel Bill Thunder may tell us something interesting!”
CHAPTER XII
Chet's Ruse
BACK at the old car Chet was still asleep, but Mystery greeted Frank and Joe with excited yapping.
“What ... ? Who ... ?” grunted the fat boy, starting up and blinking. “Are we still in Forestburg?”
While he sat rubbing his eyes, Frank and Joe, grinning, climbed into the front seat of the car.
“Are we in Forestburg?” repeated Joe with mock disgust. “We've only been here two hours, that's all. And listen to this!” He related what the brothers had learned.
Chet was astoundedâand also disappointed not to have been there to hear his friends' discovery firsthand. Meanwhile, Frank had been poring over a road map. Now he started the car and headed out of town in a westerly direction.
“Say!” Chet exclaimed. “Where are we off to now?”
“Riverville,” Frank replied, and explained that Klatch's Carnival was there. “This back road should get us to the place in half the time the highway would take.”
With an injured look on his broad face, the stout boy sat back and folded his arms. “So you walked out on me. You two just wait. I'll show you who's the detective around here!”
“We'll wait!” Joe chuckled.
Captain Maguire's old car seemed well suited to the narrow, badly rutted road. Maneuvering carefully to avoid holes, Frank drove past dense woods that lined both sides. Sometimes the road followed a stream, at others it ran along ridges. There were no buildings in this area.
“We must be getting close,” observed Frank, looking at the speedometer. “But what a place to run out of gas!”
No sooner had the youth spoken than the three friends, rounding a turn, came upon a station wagon parked on the left side of the road. The hood pointed skyward. Across each fender leaned a man in blue dungarees, his head almost invisible under the hood as both peered at the motor.
“Let's see what we can do,” said Frank, pulling over. “We have plenty of time.”
As the boys stepped from their car a huge dog bounded swiftly toward them.
“Oh, oh!” said Chet hastily. “Better stay inside, Mystery!” The big dog gave a curious but not unfriendly sniff at Frank's outstretched hand.
At the same moment one of the men raised up. He was bony and had red hair. “Here, Blue!” he called and turned to greet the boys. “Don't you fellows worry about Blue. He won't bother nobody.”
“What's the trouble?” Frank asked.
“She conked out, somehow,” the man answered with a perplexed grin. “Just won't go!”
Joe was already peering at the engine. “Mind if we have a look? My brother and I have done a good bit of work on motors.”
“Help yourself,” invited the other man, who wore a loud print shirt. “Got to do something âcan't stay here all morning!”
Somewhat puzzled at the helplessness of the two men, Frank and Joe rolled up their sleeves.
“Got any tools?” Joe asked the man.
“Nope,” the red-haired one answered. “Wouldn't you just know it?”
“Have much trouble with her?” Frank inquired.
The man scratched his head and grinned. “Well, now, I can't say, âcause she's not mine. Just borrowed her, y'see, to deliver all these apples.”
“Apples?” Chet beamed, and he strolled around to the back of the station wagon, which was open. There, under a tarpaulin, were several bushel baskets of big red apples. “Mind if I try one, mister?”
“Go ahead,” the bony man called.
Thinking that the second basket held juicier fruit than one near the tailboard, Chet chose his apple from there. But as he brought his hand away he noticed there was no fruit underneathâjust something wrapped in brown paper!
Other books
Ophelia Adrift by Helen Goltz
The Rings of Haven by Brown, Ryk
Chosen by Blood by Virna Depaul
The Chosen Ones by Steve Sem-Sandberg
Lamb by Bernard Maclaverty
Those That Wake 02: What We Become by Jesse Karp
Some Like it Wicked by Stacey Kennedy
Dumfries by Todd, Ian
The Sheik's Son by Nicola Italia
An Inch of Ashes by David Wingrove