The Triple Hoax Read online

  Nancy and George stood close to Bess and had overheard the conversation. Nancy whispered, “Let him come!”

  Bess looked surprised, but said to the stranger, “Well, all right. Can you make it right away?”

  “I’ll be there in half an hour,” Mr. Barker said.

  After Bess had hung up, she turned to Nancy. “Why did you want him to see us?”

  Nancy told her that the scheme sounded like another swindle. “This Mr. Barker could be the man who sold Mrs. Richards the ticket for the fake world trip!”

  “If that is so, then he might know we’re on the case—” George began.

  “And means to kidnap us?” Bess panicked.

  “C’mon, Bess,” Nancy said. “How could he possibly know of our connection with Mrs. Richards? I’d say he picked your name from some mailing list. You get more junk mail than anybody else I know. It’s all coincidental, I’m sure.”

  George spoke up. “Why don’t we ask Mrs. Richards to come over? If she can identify Barker as Henry Clark, we’ll call the police and have him arrested!”

  Aunt Eloise phoned her friend. The housekeeper answered and said Mrs. Richards was out and would not return until evening.

  “That’s too bad,” Bess remarked.

  Nancy said, “I have an idea how we might find out if Mr. Barker is the travel agent. Take his picture. Aunt Eloise, you have a camera, don’t you?”

  Miss Drew said, “Yes, and I happen to have fast film in it so we won’t need a flash. Besides, the camera makes no noise when the shutter clicks. It’ll be perfect for this purpose.”

  “Does it develop the picture instantly?” George asked.

  “Yes. As soon as Annabella arrives home, you can show it to her.”

  As the time neared for Howie Barker’s arrival, Bess became nervous. “I don’t want to get mixed up in any kind of racket,” she declared. “What am I supposed to tell him?”

  “I’ll stay in the room with you,” George offered. “We’ll figure out something.”

  It was decided that Nancy would hide and take the caller’s picture while Bess and George kept him in animated conversation. Aunt Eloise could not wait for the stranger to arrive because she had classes at school. Before leaving, she warned the girls to be careful of any tricks the caller might play.

  “I’m not going to let him hoax me!” Bess spoke up belligerently.

  George added, “If you start to fall for any scheme, I’ll take over.”

  Soon the house phone rang. Bess answered. The doorman announced that Mr. Howie Barker was there to see Miss Bess Marvin.

  “Let him come up,” Bess said, her voice betraying her slight nervousness.

  Barker proved to be a good-looking, blond-haired man with gray at the temples, and a full blond-gray beard. The description was not like that of Henry Clark. The man was a glib talker. Bess ushered him into the living room, where Nancy was concealed behind a wall screen. She took several pictures when he walked in and others when he sat down on the couch.

  “You girls will love this place,” Howie Barker said, taking a large architect’s drawing out of his briefcase. He spread it on the coffee table and with his pen pointed to the fine features of the place.

  “Notice the little verandas off each bedroom. If you don’t feel like going to the beach, you can sun yourself right there. If you don’t want to go to the dining room, you can eat your meals out there, too.”

  George spoke up. “It’s certainly a huge place. Where is it being built?”

  Mr. Barker produced a brochure from his briefcase. It described the location as a secluded area of oceanfront in Maine.

  “It has luxury as well as seclusion,” he went on. “I’m telling you, this is really an opportunity of a lifetime.”

  “Why did you pick my cousin for this offer?” George inquired.

  “We have been approaching all the people who vacationed at the Silverline Hotel in Maine last season,” Barker explained. “You see, the Silverline is owned by the same company, and we know their clientele would enjoy this kind of setup.”

  “What does it cost?” Bess asked.

  “Only a thousand dollars. For that, you have guaranteed discount rates forever, much less than the regular price for a room.”

  “For a thousand dollars, you can spend a long time in a hotel,” George pointed out.

  “Not really,” Barker objected. “Also, remember, your rates are guaranteed never to increase. Everything else goes up year after year. Right?”

  Bess agreed. She was quite impressed with the proposal, but George thought of Nancy. Had she been able to take pictures of the man from every angle? Impatiently the girl looked at her wrist-watch. Barker had been there twenty minutes, surely time enough to be photographed extensively.

  Bess was about to say that she would try to get the money to avail herself of the offer, when she remembered Nancy’s warning that this might be another swindle similar to Mrs. Richards’s experience. She hesitated, then said, “The whole thing sounds wonderful. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll contact a few people and let you know if I can borrow the money.”

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary. Your mother told me you had your own savings account, and can spend the money as you wish.”

  “That’s partly true, but I must think about your offer. Where can I find you?”

  George fully expected the man not to give his address, but to her amazement he pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to Bess.

  “My phone number is on here,” he said. “Be sure to let me know tomorrow.” He stood up and shook hands with both girls, then they ushered him out of the apartment.

  After George had closed the door, she smiled at her cousin. “Bess, I’m proud of you. For a moment I thought you’d fall for his scheme, but you handled it beautifully.”

  “It really sounds great,” Bess countered as they entered the living room again. Nancy stepped from her hiding place, and the girls asked her if she had taken good pictures.

  “Oh, yes, several,” Nancy replied. “I’m sorry I didn’t have a tape recorder to get the whole conversation. By the way, I don’t think we should wait for Mrs. Richards to come home. Let’s go to the police at once with these photographs and the card Mr. Barker gave Bess. We’ll tell them our suspicions.”

  “How did the pictures come out?” George asked. Nancy showed them to her friends. They were excellent and the young detective felt sure that if the police had a record of the man, they could identify him easily.

  The three sleuths quickly left the apartment and headed for the nearest police station. When they walked in, Nancy asked if it were possible to talk to the chief privately.

  The desk sergeant asked the girls’ names and the nature of their business. Nancy introduced her friends and herself and added, “I think we have a lead on a con man.”

  The sergeant looked at her in surprise, but made no further comment. He picked up his phone and dialed the chief’s number.

  After a short conversation, he said to Nancy, “Chief Raleigh will see you. Walk down the corridor and take the first turn to your left. Watch for the sign on the door.”

  In a few minutes the young detective and her friends were standing before the chief. He was a ruddy-faced man who reminded them of Police Chief McGinnis in River Heights.

  “I understand you have some interesting information for me,” the officer said, smiling.

  Nancy nodded and took Barker’s pictures from her handbag. Bess produced the man’s business card.

  “Have you any record of this person?” Nancy inquired.

  The chief called in a deputy and asked him to look in the files. While waiting for an answer, Nancy told Chief Raleigh about the mysterious caller and the proposition he had offered Bess.

  The officer frowned. “It certainly sounds like a swindle.”

  When the deputy returned, he said they had no picture of a suspect resembling the man in Nancy’s photographs. The deputy had rubbed out the beard. Still t
he face did not resemble anyone in their file. Also, the name Howie Barker had not been reported in connection with any crime.

  Nancy thanked the chief, who promised to investigate anyway. She left two of the photographs and the calling card with him as well as Aunt Eloise’s address and phone number.

  “We’ll let you know if anything turns up,” he promised.

  On the way outside the building, Nancy said she hoped Mrs. Richards would return sooner than expected. She was eager to show her the photographs. “And there’s something else I can’t get out of my mind,” she added.

  “What is it?” Bess asked.

  3

  Poison!

  Bess and George asked Nancy to tell them what was bothering her.

  “How Howie Barker got your name and home address. I don’t believe his story about having the list of guests of the Silverline Hotel. Bess, will you phone your mother and verify his story?”

  When they reached Aunt Eloise’s apartment, Bess called Mrs. Marvin.

  “Oh, Bess, you didn’t get into any trouble because I gave Miss Drew’s address to Mr. Barker, did you?”

  “No, but he tried to sell me a lifetime reservation in a new hotel. Did you tell him about my savings account?”

  “No!” Mrs. Marvin exclaimed.

  Bess cried out, “He claims you said I could spend it any way I wished!”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Nancy thinks he’s a con man, and we’ve reported him to the police.”

  “Good.”

  When Bess repeated her mother’s denial, Nancy bobbed her head. “I suspected that. I’ll bet he was told about your savings book after the Hoaxters examined your handbag. And he knew about your vacation in Maine because they read Dorothy Cross’s letter!”

  The girls walked along the street silently for a while, then Nancy said, “I wish Mrs. Richards were home. I’d like to find out if Barker was her travel agent.”

  “Perhaps she returned earlier than her housekeeper expected,” Bess suggested. “Why don’t we call her?”

  “Good idea,” Nancy agreed and did so.

  The girls were in luck. Mrs. Richards answered personally and invited them to come at once.

  When they arrived, she ushered them into her living room. It was beautifully furnished in French Provincial decor with lovely statues and paintings.

  “I’m delighted to see you,” she said. “Do you have a clue yet in my case?”

  “Perhaps,” Nancy said. She told the woman about Bess’s caller and showed her the photographs. “Is this the man who swindled you?”

  Mrs. Richards studied the pictures intently. “No, I think not. Mr. Clark had a dark beard.”

  Nancy told her of Barker’s offer to Bess, and Mrs. Richards frowned. “He certainly sounds like the man who came to see me. A glib talker and very personable.”

  Nancy nodded. “Have you heard anything more from him?”

  “No,” Mrs. Richards replied. “But lately I’ve had a ton of mail. It’s mostly requests from charitable organizations, but there are two letters that might interest you. I’ll get them.”

  She went into another room and returned a few moments later, handing Nancy two envelopes. One letter, neatly typed on very expensive stationery, was from a man who offered copies of rare paintings at ridiculous prices. He guaranteed that they were very special and a once-in-a-lifetime bargain. The letter read:

  Fool your friends. They couldn’t tell the difference between the copy and the real thing!

  George wrinkled her forehead. “That sounds like a con game!”

  The others agreed. Nancy unfolded the second letter. It advertised a fine collection of old coins. The “bargains” were so cheap that the deal definitely sounded like a hoax.

  “May I take the two ads with me?” Nancy requested.

  “Certainly,” Mrs. Richards replied. “I have no intention of following them up. I’ve been hurt once. That’s enough.”

  Nancy put the letters into her handbag. “I’ll try to find out more about these offers,” she said.

  “Mrs. Richards, you have a fascinating apartment,” Bess commented. “Did you collect all the works of art in this room?”

  “A great many of them, yes. Others were gifts to me. Would you like to see the rest of my home?”

  “Oh, yes,” the girls chorused.

  As they were led from room to room, the young detectives realized that each was furnished in the style of a foreign country, including a Japanese room which Bess liked most.

  “I don’t care for it myself,” George remarked under her breath. “I wouldn’t want to kneel down every time I looked into the mirror of my dressing table!”

  The others laughed.

  “Japanese girls think nothing of it,” Mrs. Richards said.

  She slid aside a panel in the wall and pulled out a tufted silk comforter with gaily painted figures of dancing girls on it. She spread the puff on the floor and announced that this was a typical Japanese mattress.

  “Personally I think that’s why their women have such straight backs,” she said.

  “Don’t they use a pillow?” Bess asked.

  Their hostess answered by producing another item from the closet. It was cylinder-shaped, about six inches in diameter and covered with black material.

  “This is very heavy because the pillow is filled with sand,” Mrs. Richards explained.

  “That’s a pillow?” Bess asked in disbelief.

  “Yes. However, many Japanese have adopted our Western ways and use beds, mattresses and somewhat softer pillows now.”

  Bess giggled. “They’re smart.”

  “The reason Japanese women years ago needed to sleep on this type of pillow is rather interesting,” Mrs. Richards went on. “Having their full-length hair professionally set was a long, costly process. To keep their hairdos intact between washings, the women slept with their necks against the hard pillows.”

  George grinned. “I’m glad I don’t have to worry about that sort of thing,” she said and shook her short, plainly combed hair.

  Mrs. Richards led the girls through other rooms. Heavy silken drapes ornamented the windows and Oriental rugs lay on the floors.

  The last room they came to was decorated in Florentine style. Everything was ornate, from the heavily carved furniture to the slatted, painted wooden blinds. In one corner stood a mannequin dressed in a Florentine soldier’s uniform.

  George remarked, “He looks pretty fancy for someone going into battle.”

  Mrs. Richards smiled. “I doubt that anyone wearing an outfit like this did much fighting. It probably belonged to a general.”

  Nancy walked closer to the figure and surveyed it from all angles. Suddenly she noticed a partially concealed pocket with a slight bulge. She put her hand inside and felt a small object.

  “Something’s in this pocket,” she said to Mrs. Richards.

  “Really?” the woman asked. “I didn’t know that. Let’s see what it is.”

  Nancy pulled out a small glass vial with a gold filigree covering. Mrs. Richards read an Italian inscription on the bottom. A startled look came over her face.

  “Where in the world did this come from? I never saw it before!”

  “Perhaps the vial was in the uniform for centuries and no one ever noticed it,” George suggested. “Does it contain anything?”

  “A deadly poison!” Mrs. Richards replied.

  Bess shivered. “Did the soldier carry it to use on an enemy?”

  Mrs. Richards shook her head. “In the days when Florentine intrigue was at its height, nearly every member of the army carried a vial of poison in case he was captured. Rather than go to prison or be tortured, he would kill himself.”

  “Ugh!” Bess said. “That’s terrible.”

  The others did not comment, but Nancy suggested they take the vial to a medical laboratory for testing. “We should find out if it’s still potent,” she said.

  “There’s a medical lab not far from h
ere,” Mrs. Richards said. “I’ve known the owner for years.”

  Since the lab was located nearby, she and the girls walked over. On the way, Nancy asked Mrs. Richards if she had had any news about Roscoe and her car.

  “Oh, yes. He had a very trying adventure. He was parked not far from the terminal waiting for us, when suddenly two men jumped into the back seat. They ordered Roscoe to take them to a certain address. When he told them his car was not a taxi and they must get out, the men refused. One said Roscoe would be harmed if he did not follow their orders.”

  “Poor Roscoe!” Bess exclaimed.

  Mrs. Richards went on. “There was nothing he could do, so he started for the place the men indicated. But they never got there.”

  “What happened?” George wanted to know.

  “They told him suddenly to stop and get out of the car. Then one of the men jumped behind the wheel and drove away. Roscoe yelled at them but they paid no attention. The police never did locate my stolen car, and poor Roscoe was a wreck after he hiked back to town.”

  “That’s a shame,” Nancy said sympathetically.

  “Roscoe blamed himself,” Mrs. Richards went on. “But I told him it was not his fault. The insurance company is going to settle if my automobile is not found within a certain time period, and we’re looking at a new car.”

  Nancy asked if Roscoe had heard the men say anything that might lead to their arrest.

  “I don’t know if there’s any significance to this,” the woman replied, “but one of them said, ‘This is a good hoax on that rich widow.’ Then the two of them laughed uproariously.”

  By this time the group had reached the medical laboratory. Mrs. Richards told Mr. Horner, the owner, that her young visitors had found the vial in an old costume and wondered if the poison were still effective.

  Mr. Horner asked his assistant, whose name was Enzo Scorpio, to take the vial into the lab and test it. Five minutes later the young man returned, confirming that it was potent.

  “What kind of poison is it?” Mrs. Richards asked.

  “It’s extracted from poisonous mushrooms,” the technician replied.

  “In that case,” Mr. Horner said, “the vial is more valuable than its contents. I believe it was made by an artisan in the fifteenth century. It’s absolutely airtight. That’s why the poison has not evaporated. As a matter of fact, if you would like to sell the vial, I’d be glad to buy it. I know a man who collects this kind of thing.”