The Clue of the Tapping Heels Page 2

  “That’s a good idea,” Bess agreed. “I’ll help you.”

  As soon as Miss Carter arrived she began to call each Persian by name.

  “Don’t be so naughty, Abatha,” she said to one.

  The ball of fluff clinging to the top of the cage disengaged itself and climbed toward her.

  “Come down here, Rosemond,” she told another, and it obeyed instantly. The girls were amused by the names and amazed that the woman had such good control over the cats.

  “She just loves them,” Bess whispered to Nancy. “I should think she’d hate to sell any of her darlings.”

  At that moment they heard a shout from the house next door. A second-floor window was raised and a man stuck his head out.

  “What are you trying to do?” he thundered. “Miss Carter, don’t you know people around here want to sleep? I’m not going to put up with those cats of yours any longer! I’ve stood them for six months.”

  “I’m dreadfully sorry about what happened,” Miss Carter called to him. “It wasn’t the cats’ fault. Someone tried to break into the garage and that upset them.”

  “What’s that got to do with the dogs?” the man shouted.

  “I’m sure it won’t happen again, Mr. Bunce,” Miss Carter assured him.

  “That’s a lot of talk!” the man exclaimed. “You’re not going to get away with this. I’ve told you before to get rid of the cats.”

  Miss Carter looked worried. She said to Nancy, “This is the first disturbance we’ve had.”

  The conversation, which was too low for Mr. Bunce to hear, seemed to anger the man. “What are you conniving now?” he cried angrily. “Whatever it is, it won’t do you any good!”

  Bess stared at the man in disgust. “What a creep he is!” she whispered.

  Mr. Bunce continued his tirade. “I’ll tell you, Miss Carter, what I’m going to do—inform the authorities these cats are a nuisance and a menace, and I’ll see to it that you get rid of them at once!” He slammed the window shut.

  Miss Carter had turned ash white. In a tremulous voice she said, “I love my cats and selling them brings me a nice livelihood, which I need. Mr. Bunce will ruin my business!”

  Another thought occurred to Nancy. If Miss Carter should decide to move away, the mystery of the stolen cats and the tapper might never be solved. She was determined to clear up both mysteries so this could not happen.

  CHAPTER III

  Actor’s Surprise

  ALTHOUGH Bess was a bit fearful she agreed to spend the rest of the night in the garage with George.

  “It’s very comfortable here,” she admitted, “and cooler than inside the house.”

  Mrs. Bealing made lemonade for the group, then they all went back to bed. At breakfast time Miss Carter insisted upon coming downstairs to the table.

  Nancy said to her, “Do you think Mr. Bunce really intends to make trouble?”

  Miss Carter shook her head. “He’s hot-tempered but I’m sure his bark is worse than his bite. Let’s forget him and concentrate on finding the tapper in this house.”

  “I’m afraid,” said Nancy, “that I can’t play detective tonight. I must go home for a rehearsal. And there’s another one tomorrow night.”

  “Oh dear!” Mrs. Bealing spoke up. “Bess and George, do you have to go, too?”

  “Well, n-o-o-o,” Bess said after a pause, “but I hate to stay here without Nancy. I’m not much of a sleuth ”

  Miss Carter patted the girl’s hand. “You were the one who saved my cats last night,” she reminded Bess. “If you hadn’t awakened, I might have lost several more of my prize Persians.”

  Flattery had its effect and Bess consented to stay if George would.

  “I’m game,” her cousin said.

  Mrs. Bealing heaved a sigh. “I feel much better now. Thank you.”

  Miss Carter expressed interest in Nancy’s rehearsal. “Is this for a concert or a play?”

  “A play. I take the part of a dancer. I don’t have many lines, but I do have three tap numbers.”

  Miss Carter leaned forward across the table. “Nancy, I’m terrifically interested. I used to be an actress myself.” She looked off into space. “I loved it and felt sad when I had to retire.”

  Bess asked what plays Miss Carter had been in.

  The actress named several and added, “My greatest role was in The Dancer and the Fool. I played the part of the dancer. You know, I believe that with a few changes that play could be modernized and produced right now.”

  She asked Nancy, “Have you ever thought seriously of going on the stage? You’d be perfect in the role I played.”

  Nancy laughed. Before she had a chance to answer, Bess said, “Nancy wouldn’t give up her detective work for anything. Now and then she does other things, like this play, but she spends most of her time solving mysteries.”

  Miss Carter smiled. As she was about to make a comment, the telephone rang. Mrs. Bealing answered and said that the police wanted to speak to her patient. The actress was wheeled to the hall and picked up the phone.

  She listened for a few minutes, then said, “Oh, the poor thing! That was wicked! ... Yes, I’ll send somebody to pick up the kitten. And how are we going to find the person who did this?” She went on to tell about the attempted intrusion the night before.

  There was another long pause, then she said, “All right. I’ll sleep better if I know the police will stop here regularly on their rounds.”

  When Miss Carter came back to the table she reported that laboratory tests had shown that the “sleepy” kitten had indeed been drugged. There was no doubt now in anyone’s mind that the thief who had taken the five older cats had also drugged them.

  “I’ll be glad to run over and get the kitten,” Bess said.

  “I’d certainly appreciate it if you would,” Miss Carter said.

  During Bess’s absence, Nancy and George went to the basement hoping to find a clue that would explain the reason for the tapping sounds. Nancy carried a flashlight in her left hand, a small hammer in her right. The girls found the two small windows and outside door bolted shut.

  “First, let’s look directly under that chair where I was sitting last night,” she suggested.

  George was carrying a small stepladder. She set it in place and Nancy climbed up. Seeing nothing suspicious, she tapped lightly with the hammer to detect any hollow spots.

  “It all sounds the same to me,” George commented. “Do you think the mysterious tapper was hunting for some secret hiding place in the ceiling of the basement?”

  Nancy shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea,” she replied. “I have been wondering, though, whether or not he and the fellow who broke into the garage are the same man.”

  She explained that this possibility had occurred to her because there had been such a short interval between the two mysterious events.

  “Frankly,” Nancy went on, “I’m amazed that he would dare make so much noise with people in the house.”

  “Maybe,” George speculated, “he wants to be thought of as a ghost and scare everyone away.”

  “He won’t succeed,” Nancy declared. “Well, let’s get on with our investigation.”

  The two girls made a minute search of the ceiling, side walls, and floor. They found no indication of an opening in the paneled walls or in the cement floor.

  “Perhaps,” said George, “the tapper is a nut and just comes here to have fun scaring people.”

  “I’m sure there’s more to it than that,” Nancy replied.

  By the time she and George went upstairs, Bess had returned with the kitten. They all patted the little animal, which had recovered completely and was very frisky.

  Miss Carter had been taken to her bedroom, so the pet was carried up there. She fondled the kitten lovingly, then asked Mrs. Bealing to put it out in the garage.

  The nurse went off. As she descended the stairway, the front doorbell rang. The others heard her open the door but almost instantly close i
t again. Then she carried the kitten out the back door before returning to the second floor.

  “Who rang the bell?” Miss Carter asked her.

  Mrs. Bealing smiled. “A tall, handsome gray-haired man. Too bad he had the wrong house. He wanted to know if a Miss Violette lived here.”

  “What!” Miss Carter exclaimed. “Oh, find him! Find him! He wants me! I’m Miss Violette!”

  The others stared at the actress and finally Mrs. Bealing said, “I’m sorry. You never told me your name was Miss Violette.”

  Tears came to Miss Carter’s eyes. She opened a bureau drawer and pulled out a picture.

  “He’s the one,” Mrs. Bealing said. “Only he’s older looking now.”

  Miss Carter cried out, “He was the man who played the part of the fool in the play I told you about. He and I were going to be married and through an odd circumstance we became separated and now I’ve lost him again!”

  Instantly Nancy sprang into action. “We’ll try to find him for you, Miss Carter. Did he have a car, Mrs. Bealing?”

  “Yes, a bright-red convertible.”

  As the three girls dashed down the steps, Bess said, “Oh, isn’t this romantic and exciting!”

  Suddenly it occurred to Nancy that they did not know the man’s name and she hurried back upstairs to find out. “He’s Toby Simpson,” Miss Carter told her.

  “Which way did he go, Mrs. Bealing?” Nancy asked quickly.

  “Toward Main Street.”

  By the time Nancy reached the car, Bess had it running. She slid over and Nancy got behind the wheel. The convertible sped down Amity Place. When it reached the intersection of Main Street, Nancy stopped and the girls looked in both directions.

  “I see a bright-red convertible!” George said, pointing to the right.

  Nancy drove as fast as she dared. The car she was chasing had the top down. The man at the wheel was threading his way expertly through the traffic.

  “Oh, we mustn’t lose him!” Bess urged.

  Nancy was doing her best to catch up with the gray-haired Toby Simpson, but as she came to a signal light, it turned red. The convertible had gone ahead and was making good speed.

  The girls chafed under the delay and the instant the light became green Nancy shot ahead. By now the chase was hopeless. Toby Simpson and his car had disappeared, and though the girls rode up and down various streets, they could not find the red convertible.

  Bess sighed. “What luck! Mr. Simpson has probably gone out of town, never to return. Poor Miss Carter!”

  When the girls gave Miss Carter the disappointing news, the actress sighed deeply. Apparently she did not want to discuss the unfortunate happening and changed the subject.

  “Did you detectives find anything in the basement?” she asked.

  “No,” Nancy replied, “but this afternoon I want to look around the second floor and up in your attic.”

  Mrs. Bealing revealed that she had heard muffled tapping sounds from the third floor.

  “Then let’s go up there first,” George proposed.

  Miss Carter said with a smile, “Don’t be too surprised at what you find.”

  The three girls were not prepared for the amazing assortment of objects stored in the attic. Evidently Miss Carter had collected souvenirs from various plays in which she had appeared. There were chests, a battered white wooden horse, forms with costumes on them and covered with plastic bags, and a mummy case standing upright.

  “O-oh, this place gives me the creeps,” Bess remarked. “I could almost imagine some of the figures coming to life.”

  Nancy suggested that the girls separate and each hunt for a clue to the tapper or to what he might be looking for.

  It was not long before Nancy found a crossbeam in a side wall which, she thought, was not necessary to the construction of the building. She tugged at it and presently the beam came away. One part of the underside had been hollowed out into a square and the lack of dust in the empty space indicated that something had recently been removed from it.

  “A square box, I’m sure,” Nancy told herselt.

  She called Bess and George over and pointed out her discovery.

  George remarked, “When Mrs. Bealing heard the tapper, he must have been hammering lightly on the beam to pull it loose. I wonder what was hidden in it.”

  “We must find out who lived in this house be-before Miss Carter,” Nancy said. She glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late. I’ll have to leave in a few moments. Do you girls want to continue looking or come downstairs with me?”

  Bess and George said they had had enough sleuthing for one day. Besides, they had promised to help feed the cats and give them fresh water.

  When Nancy told Miss Carter about the movable beam, the actress was amazed. She had purchased the house from people named Smith who had not lived there long. A lawyer had attended to everything, and Miss Carter did not know who the previous owners were.

  “But I’ll try to find out,” she said.

  Nancy said good-by to everyone and went to her car, which was parked in the driveway. As she pulled into the street and turned in the direction of River Heights, she noticed a black sedan behind her. It followed her down the street. When Nancy reached the highway out of town, the same car was still behind her.

  At first Nancy thought this was merely a coincidence, but as she rode along, it occurred to her that the man, whom she could not see very well, was deliberately following her. She went down a street in a new housing development, then turned, and came back to the main road. The other driver did the same.

  “I’m sure now that he’s after me,” Nancy thought. “I’d better not take any shortcuts or deserted roads.” She jammed on her brakes, so the trailing car came closer rather suddenly and she caught a glimpse of a pudgy, double-chinned man. He looked to be in his mid-twenties.

  “I certainly don’t know him,” Nancy thought. “Could he be the tapper or the cat thief?”

  She made a mental note of the license number of his car. “I’ll find out who he is!” she determined.

  As they neared River Heights, the young detective decided that somehow she must shake her pursuer. She watched for an opportunity.

  CHAPTER IV

  Car Thief

  INSTINCT told Nancy not to go directly home.

  “No doubt that man behind me wants to find out where I live,” she said to herself. “Well, I won’t let him!”

  She knew that anyone could find out from the license bureau who owned the car, but this would not necessarily prove that the driver was also the owner. Turning abruptly down a side street, she headed for a parking lot.

  Nancy quickly found a spot, locked the convertible, and started making her way among the many parked cars. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw her pursuer looking vainly for her out of his window. She smiled that her ruse had worked, then headed for her father’s office.

  “I’ll tell Dad what happened and get his advice about this.”

  To avoid detection Nancy rode in the elevator to a floor above, and walked down one flight to Mr. Drew’s office.

  “If that pudgy man saw me come into the building, I guess he’s pretty confused by this time.”

  Mr. Drew’s secretary, Miss Hanson, looked surprised but glad to see Nancy. “Hi!” she greeted her. “Something’s on your mind—I can see it in your eyes.”

  Nancy laughed. “You’re right. I’ve just shaken off a man who was following me.”

  Miss Hanson gasped. “How terrible! You did the right thing coming here. Your father has a client in his office but I think the man will be leaving any minute. Please sit down and tell me about your new mystery.”

  Nancy had just started to explain when the door of her father’s office opened. Mr. Drew shook hands with his client, saying he would call him in a couple of days. Then he turned to Nancy.

  “Hello, dear. Nice to see you, but I have a feeling this isn’t a social call.” His eyes twinkled.

  When Nancy reported what had
happened to her since leaving Miss Carter’s home, the lawyer frowned.

  “I don’t like this,” he said. “As you said, the man can trace you. But we’ll even things up. I’ll call the license bureau right away to find out who this pudgy individual is and if he has tried to trace your license.”

  Mr. Drew asked Miss Hanson to put in the call and soon he was talking to a man at the motor vehicle bureau. Within a short time he had his answer.

  “The name of the owner is Barton Trask,” he told Nancy. “Barton is a friend of mine.... Miss Hanson, will you please phone him.”

  While Miss Hanson dialed the number, Mr. Drew said to Nancy, “So far, my dear, no one has tried to get information on you at the bureau. I’ve instructed the men there to withhold your address in that event.”

  The ensuing conversation between the lawyer and his friend proved to be enlightening. Mr. Trask said that his car had been stolen several weeks ago and had been sold by the thief, using a forged certificate of ownership. Apparently the thief had transferred the stolen license plate to another car.

  “I’ll notify the police and the license bureau about all of this,” Mr. Drew said. He looked steadily at Nancy. “You’ve proven to me many times you know how to take care of yourself, but I can’t help worrying about you. Right now I think it would be best if Miss Hanson drives you home. Later I’ll bring your car and make sure no one is following me.”

  Nancy opened her purse and handed over the key. She smiled at her father. “Thanks a million, Dad. And don’t forget, early dinner tonight. I have a rehearsal for the play.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Soon after Nancy arrived home she received a phone call from Chief McGinnis of the River Heights Police Department. He told her that his men were still looking for the thief who had taken Mr. Trask’s car. He asked for a full description of the man who had followed Nancy.

  “I’m afraid it can’t be very full,” she replied, “because I saw him only behind the wheel of his car. He appeared to be pudgy, double-chinned, and had a small nose. His hair was dark and he had a good deal of it. He was so far down in the seat I’d say he’s short.”