Read The Mystery at Lilac Inn Online

Authors: Carolyn Keene

Tags: #Jewel Thieves, #Women Detectives, #Detective and Mystery Stories, #Girls & Women, #Mystery & Detective, #Juvenile Fiction, #Adventure and Adventurers, #Mysteries & Detective Stories, #Fiction, #Thieves, #Mystery Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #Children's Stories, #Diamonds, #Drew; Nancy (Fictitious Character), #Electronics, #General, #Mystery and Detective Stories

The Mystery at Lilac Inn (13 page)

BOOK: The Mystery at Lilac Inn
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“Anyhow,” she went on, “I met Maud a year ago at a party in River Heights. We became friendly—attended the theater and so forth. Maud seemed very pleasant and good company at the time. And I also felt sorry for her.”
“Sorry?” Helen echoed.
Mrs. Willoughby explained that Maud’s husband had died several years before, leaving her penniless. Since then, she had worked at various resorts, but not very long at any one.
“When Maud heard about Lilac Inn, she persuaded me that, with her experience, she’d be ideal as social director. But soon after her arrival here, she asked me to lend her a large sum of money—claimed to have a lot of unpaid bills which her salary wouldn’t cover. Maud became angry when I refused, but she continued her demands for money.”
Emily interrupted, “Aunt Hazel, why didn’t you tell us she was bothering you? Dick would have asked her to leave.”
“Maud insinuated that if I tried to force her to leave, she would say that—that
I
had stolen your diamonds, Emily, by getting them from the bank weeks ago, and substituting the fake stones!”
“How dreadful!” Nancy cried out, and Emily added fiercely, “That awful woman! But, Aunt Hazel, we never would have believed her.”
“I know,” Mrs. Willoughby said ruefully. “But with so many strange things happening, I guess I wasn’t thinking logically.”
Nancy had one more question to clear up regarding Maud Potter. She decided to mention Jean Holmes’ warning about the woman.
“Did any of you notice Maud going into our cottage the day of the fire?” Nancy asked. “Or our room here?”
No one had. Furthermore, Mrs. Willoughby added, “I believe Jean must have been mistaken. When Maud wasn’t with us, she stayed in her room typing. She probably was writing letters of application.”
Presently Nancy excused herself, saying she wanted to take a walk and do some thinking. Once outside, she took a trail toward the river. Drops of rain still sparkled on the foliage.
Nancy’s thoughts reverted to Jean’s story about Maud. “It sounds as though the waitress might not have been telling the truth. But why would she want to incriminate Maud? And why did Jean appear so uneasy when I mentioned ‘blue pipes’?”
The young sleuth suddenly roused from her concentration on the puzzle and became aware of an interesting, gnarled apple tree along the riverbank. Just then she noticed an envelope stuck in a crotch of the tree.
Nancy picked up the damp envelope, wondering if it had blown there during the storm or been placed in the crotch, perhaps for someone to find. There was no stamp or address on the envelope, only a name—Miss Lillie Merriweather.
Suddenly Nancy’s eye was caught by the fact that in the typed name the letter
a
was very faint. This, as well as the rest of the typing, reminded Nancy suddenly of the envelope found with her charge plate.
“I wonder if they were done on the same machine!” she thought excitedly.
The flap of the envelope had become unsealed from dampness and the girl slid the letter out easily. A pink lilac spray adorned the top left corner of the stationery. A message below it, all typed, read:
Dear Lillie:
 
I hope we can get together soon. I’ve been busy lining up an important job. Give my best to your dad. Tell him I have a beautiful blue pipe for him. Hope to see you soon.
Hastily, but with love,
Gay
Nancy’s heart was thumping with excitement. Lilacs—“blue pipes”—two envelopes bearing the same type—was someone named
Gay
her impersonator?
“The name Lillie Merriweather sounds vaguely familiar,” the girl detective thought.
Hastily she slid the letter back into the envelope and put it in the tree. She would alert the police to watch for anyone returning to look for the letter.
As Nancy hurried back to the inn, she recalled Mrs. Willoughby saying that Maud Potter had been typing. By some chance was the director still a possible suspect in the mystery? Was she the person who had typed the envelope containing Nancy’s charge plate?
“I’ll check,” Nancy determined. She went upstairs and knocked on Maud’s bedroom door. It was flung open by the director.
“Yes?” she snapped.
“May I come in?” Nancy asked.
Grudgingly, Maud allowed Nancy to enter and the detective saw that a suitcase was nearly packed. On a desk stood Maud’s typewriter, with a blank piece of paper in the roller.
“Well, Nancy, what do
you
want?” Maud asked.
Watching the woman closely, Nancy queried, “Have you heard from Gay or Lillie lately?”
“What?” Maud appeared flabbergasted. “I don’t know any Gay or Lillie. Now stop quizzing me as if I had done something criminal.”
“I suppose,” Nancy said icily, “that practically blackmailing Mrs. Willoughby isn’t?”
To her surprise, Maud burst into tears. Between sobs she told Nancy that she had never intended to carry out her threat. “I don’t know why I did it. Hazel has been very good to me. I guess I’ve just been upset and worried about money ever since my husband’s death.”
Nancy could not help feeling a little sorry for the woman. Nevertheless, she asked, “Do you know anything about the time bomb that was set off in my cottage?”
“No!” Maud looked shocked. Nancy was sure she was telling the truth. “I’ve been jealous of you, Nancy,” she admitted, “but I’d never do anyone physical harm.”
As Maud dried her eyes, Nancy walked toward the desk. Nonchalantly she typed out her name on the typewriter.
N-a-n-c-y.
All the letters were clearly defined. The suspicious envelopes had definitely not been typed on this machine.
She turned to Maud, wished her good luck in her new position, and left. Then Nancy went downstairs and told Helen, Dick, and the Willoughbys about the letter and her interview with Maud. “I’m convinced that Maud won’t cause any more trouble,” she stated. “And now, if you’ll keep everyone out of earshot of the phone, I’ll call the State Police and suggest they watch for Gay.”
Nancy had just finished her conversation when Maud Potter came downstairs. She looked ashamed, and said she would not accept the check Dick offered her. She asked him to use the money for work on the resort. A few minutes later the ex-director left in a taxi.
Suddenly everyone was startled by Mr. Daly rushing frantically from his office.
“Gracious! What’s the matter?” Mrs. Willoughby asked him.
“My blue pipe’s missing! Has anyone seen it?”
“Do you mean the one you were carving from lilac wood?” Nancy asked.
Mr. Daly nodded, saying he had just completed work on the pipe a few hours ago. He had searched everywhere for it. Although. the pipe was of no great value, he had promised it to a friend. No one present had seen the hand-carved piece.
“Why would anyone take it?” Helen puzzled.
At that moment Nancy recalled the wording of Gay’s letter. “Tell him I have a beautiful blue pipe for him.” Could Gay possibly have referred to Mr. Daly’s pipe, and she, or some accomplice, have stolen it for Lillie’s Dad? If so, Gay was certainly familiar with Lilac Inn and its occupants.
At that moment Nancy glanced into the dining room. Jean Holmes was setting tables for supper. Suddenly Nancy had a vivid recollection of the shy waitress staring at Mr. Daly’s pipe while he had been showing it to Nancy. Could Jean have stolen it for Gay? But for what reason?
Saying nothing of her speculations, Nancy asked her friends if the name Lillie Merriweather meant anything to them.
“There’s an actress named Lillie Merriweather,” Helen spoke up. “She plays bit roles on Broadway. I think now she has parts mostly in stock theaters throughout the country.”
“That’s right,” said Mr. Daly. “In fact, I read that she’s with a stock company in Bridgeton, about seventy-five miles from here.”
“Helen, let’s drive to Bridgeton tomorrow!” Nancy proposed excitedly. “I have a hunch Lillie Merriweather can tell us something about the mystery at Lilac Inn!”
CHAPTER XVII
The Net Tightens
HELEN eagerly agreed to go with Nancy to call on Lillie Merriweather, the actress. “It would be fun even if there weren’t a mystery,” she said.
A little later Lieutenant Brice arrived at the inn with another trooper. In Dick’s office Nancy told him about Gay’s letter and the spot near which she had found it.
“We’ll keep watch,” the officer promised. He took the other trooper aside and whispered instructions. The man nodded and left.
Lieutenant Brice then told Nancy and her friends that no clues had been discovered to the person who had placed the time bomb.
“There was an unusual silencer on it, however,” he said. “That’s why you didn’t hear the ticking, Nancy, until a short time before the bomb was due to explode.”
The officer also said that besides the red panel truck, several other cars in the area had been stolen. “Some of the vehicles have been recovered, but there’s still no sign of the red truck. We’ll keep looking,” the lieutenant promised as he left.
Sunday morning Nancy and Helen were up early for church and their trip to Bridgeton. After breakfast the girls went to the parking lot. To their astonishment, Nancy’s convertible was not there!
“Good night!” Nancy exclaimed. Rapidly she searched her handbag for the key. It was not there. “I must have left the key in the ignition!” she chided herself.
Helen groaned. “Your car probably was stolen by one of those thieves!”
Just then, John McBride drove into the Tot in his jeep. “Hi!” he greeted the girls. “Why so glum?”
When Nancy told about her missing car, John suggested that he and the girls go off in his jeep and search the grounds before reporting the loss,
“Your car may only have been hidden by a prankster,” he suggested. “This is the day for car trouble,” he added. “I just fixed a flat tire.”
Twenty minutes later the group spotted Nancy’s convertible near a cornfield across the lane from the orchard. They examined the vehicle, and found it intact. The key was in the lock.
“Whoever took it had a short trip,” John commented.
Nancy wondered whether the unknown driver had only played a prank. If so, why? To discourage her from going to Bridgeton? Or had the person planned to steal the car but been scared off?
The girls stepped into the convertible and told John their destination. “Lots of luck,” he said.
The drive to Bridgeton took about an hour and a half. Nancy and Helen arrived in time to attend services in the quaint, white, eighteenth-century church. Then they had lunch at a tearoom.
“Where do we look for Miss Merriweather?” asked Helen as they paid their check. “The theater’s closed today.”
Nancy asked the tearoom manager where the summer stock people were living.
“At the Montrose Hotel, two blocks down.”
Ten minutes later the girls walked into the small hotel. They learned from the desk clerk that the actress and her father had Suite 303.
As Nancy and Helen rode up in the elevator, they reviewed a plan they had worked out earlier. To avoid rousing suspicion, Nancy would pretend to be an actress named Dru Gruen. She would further pretend that she knew Gay but had lost contact. Helen was to pose as a dancer.
As the young sleuth knocked on the door of Suite 303, she was filled with anticipation. Would the visit yield the answer to the mystery, or would it prove to be only a false lead?
The door was opened by a tall, slim young woman, with silver-blond hair. She wore a becoming dress of jade-green silk.
“Yes?” she asked in a throaty voice.
Nancy smiled. “Miss Merriweather? I’m Dru Gruen, an actress, and this is my friend Helga Marsh, a dancer. I understand you know Gay. We’re trying to locate her.”
The actress looked startled. “Gay Moreau?”
“Yes,” Nancy replied without hesitation.
Miss Merriweather invited her callers into an attractive living room. A fine-looking elderly man arose from a chair as they entered.
“Papa,” said the actress, “these young ladies are theater people—Miss Gruen and Miss Marsh. They’re looking for Gay.”
Mr. Merriweather, too, appeared startled. “We haven’t seen Gay in quite some time,” he said. “May I ask why you’re trying to find her?”
“We thought we’d like to have a little reunion,” Nancy explained. “We haven’t seen Gay recently, and don’t know her present address.”
“We don’t know where she’s living, either,” Lillie put in. “I haven’t heard from Gay since the last time I saw her.”
“When was that?” Nancy asked.
“Shortly after she was released from prison.”
Nancy and Helen were amazed to hear this. But they managed to conceal it.
“I imagine,” Nancy said carefully, “that Gay’s been having a hard time.”
Lillie and her father agreed. “Very sad.” Mr. Merriweather sighed. “Gay had talent. But a five-year sentence for check forgery doesn’t help one’s career.”
“I can’t understand why she did it,” Nancy said.
“Probably because Gay was poor most of her life,” Lillie reminisced. “Once success came her way, she spent all her earnings on luxuries. But Gay couldn’t stop buying expensive things. I guess she figured forgery was the easiest way to get more money.”
Mr. Merriweather frowned. “What bothered me was that Gay swore revenge on the person who was instrumental in having her sent to prison.”
“The one whose signature she forged?” Helen asked.
“She didn’t mention the name,” replied Lillie’s father.
“How old is Gay now?” Nancy inquired.
“About twenty-seven,” Lillie answered.
“I wonder,” Nancy pursued, “if she still likes ‘blue pipes’?”
“Oh! Gay must’ve told you that means lilacs!” Lillie exclaimed. “She certainly was crazy about them—even wore lilac colors.”
“Say!” Mr. Merriweather exclaimed. “I wonder if Gay sent me the pipe made of lilac wood I received yesterday. There was no return address on the package, and the postmark was blurred—must’ve gotten wet.”
BOOK: The Mystery at Lilac Inn
12.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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