The Haunted Showboat Page 4

  At ten Alex drove to the front door in a station wagon. When the girls from River Heights came out they wore pastel summer cottons.

  “How pretty you all look!” Alex remarked as he alighted to help the girls in. Then to Nancy, who stood to one side, he whispered, “Please sit next to me. I want to talk to you about the mystery.”

  “Oh, there’s plenty of time for that,” Nancy replied coolly, ignoring the invitation. “Donna Mae just wants us to have fun today.” She deliberately climbed into the rear seat, where Bess and George would sit.

  As they neared the city, Donna Mae, next to Alex, directed him to a fine old street in the residential area. She asked him to stop in front of a two-story, balconied yellow house. The property was surrounded by a wrought-iron fence with an oleander pattern. In the garden beyond were several magnolia trees and oleander bushes. Bess gave a sigh of admiration.

  “The oleander blossom,” Donna Mae explained, “is the city flower of New Orleans. The juice of the bush itself is poisonous, you know.”

  “Why are we stopping here?” Alex asked her.

  “Madame Dupre, who lives here, rents costumes for the Mardi Gras,” Donna Mae replied. “Her selection is exceptional and the costumes unique.”

  Alex decided to remain in the car while the girls went inside. It took only a few minutes to choose their costumes. At Donna Mae’s insistence her friends would represent fairies in the play. They would wear white, fluffy tulle ballet dresses with wings attached. George grumbled that she was going to feel very silly in hers.

  “I hardly think I rate wings, anyway!” she said wryly. “And the costume reminds me of dancing school when I was four years old!”

  Donna Mae had her way, however. The costumes were packed and the girls walked outside with the boxes. To their amazement Alex and the station wagon were not in sight.

  “Now where did he go?” asked Donna Mae, annoyed.

  Minutes later Alex returned and explained that he had been doing some sight-seeing while waiting for them.

  “We’ll tour the old city first,” said Donna Mae, “and then lunch at Antoine’s.”

  The Vieux Carré, or old city, was nestled on the east bank of the Mississippi. The modern city of New Orleans spread beyond it for some distance. Alex parked and the tour began on foot.

  The visitors were intrigued by the narrow streets and sidewalks, the ancient shops and restaurants, and the homes with their heavy wooden doors and iron hinges and locks.

  The two- and three-story buildings looked delightfully quaint with their lovely wrought-iron railings. Boxes of bright-colored flowers dotted the porches. Here and there were open gates leading to charming old-fashioned courtyards.

  “Visitors are welcome to walk in and look around,” Donna Mae announced as she led the way into one of the gardens.

  “Oh, how artistic!” Bess exclaimed

  The flagstone courtyard was decorated with tubs of flowering bushes in full bloom. In the center a fountain played and at the far side a curved stone stairway led upward to a flower-decked balcony. The warm tropical sunshine lent an air of tranquility to the scene.

  “It’s heavenly, simply heavenly!” Bess sighed.

  As the sight-seers left the quaint spot, Donna Mae said, “Nancy, you and the girls will surely want to see the haunted house. It’s famous in this area.”

  “What makes it haunted?” Bess asked quickly.

  “Well,” began Donna Mae, “a long, long time ago there was a fire in the old house. The owner and his wife were not there when it happened, so firemen and neighbors broke in and saved what furniture they could. To their horror they found slaves chained in the attic.

  “When the owner and his wife heard that their dreadful cruelty had been discovered, they ran away. But it’s said that the ghosts of those slaves haunt the place.”

  “I don’t think I want to see that house,” Bess said with a shudder.

  Alex suggested that probably they would be more interested in the pirates, anyway. To Donna Mae, he said, “How about showing the girls the place where Pierre Lafitte was a prisoner?”

  Donna Mae led the way to Jackson Square, the heart of the Vieux Carré. In the center of this grassy esplanade stood a statue of Andrew Jackson, the seventh president of the United States. The general sat astride a rearing horse.

  When George remarked that it was amazing how the forelegs of the horse remained in space with no support, Donna Mae said that this had been accomplished by making the statue perfectly balanced. “An unusual and difficult feat in this case.”

  Donna Mae went on, “The government of New Orleans has been in the hands of different ruling groups five times. Sometimes it was the Spanish, sometimes the French, sometimes the United States, and once the city was independent.”

  Around Jackson Square were numerous public buildings and apartment houses. Alex, who had been on the tour before, led the way to the Cabildo. This large, many-arched building had originally been the municipal hall for old New Orleans. Now it was a museum.

  Off the center courtyard around which the Cabildo had been built was the small cell in which Pierre Lafitte, the pirate, had been jailed. At the moment there was little in it—the most interesting objects being two ancient safes with decorated crosspieces of a hobnailed design.

  “Are these what the pirates kept their gold in?” George asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

  “So the legend goes,” Donna Mae answered. “Pierre and his brother Jean had a blacksmith shop a few blocks from here. They didn’t do much blacksmithing, though. They were too busy smuggling in slaves from Africa and selling them.

  “Jean and Pierre Lafitte were in trouble with the law most of the time,” Donna Mae continued, “but somehow, they were always able to get out of it. But, strange though it seems, they turned out to be very patriotic citizens during the War of 1812 in the Battle of New Orleans.”

  “Well, I’m glad they made up for their miserable deeds,” said Bess.

  “Let’s walk up Pirates’ Alley,” Alex suggested. “That’s the street where the pirates carried on their nefarious schemes.”

  As the group walked across Jackson Square to Pirates’ Alley, the girls became interested in the many sidewalk artists. The men and women lined one side of the square. Many wore smocks and jaunty berets. Some sat on stools, sketching portraits of tourists, and all had pictures on display to sell.

  One aggressive man smiled at Nancy, “May I paint your portrait, miss?” he asked. “Your face would be lovely on canvas!”

  Nancy laughed. “Not today, thank you,” she answered.

  Alex led the way into the narrow street nicknamed Pirates’ Alley. It was so attractive, with its quaint architecture and flowering plants, that it was hard for the girls to think of sinister plans once being made there by scheming pirates.

  Just as the sight-seers emerged from the alley, Nancy grabbed George’s arm. “I just turned around and saw a man who looks exactly like the one who stole my car! He must be following us!”

  George suggested getting a policeman, but Nancy said, “No. I’d like to follow him if possible. We may learn something. Suppose you and Bess and I duck into the first antique store we come to and let him pass us.”

  George whispered directions to Bess, as Nancy glanced over her shoulder to be sure the man was still following. He was!

  Coming to a gift shop, she announced quickly to Donna Mae and Alex, “Bess and George and I are going to do a little shopping. Suppose we meet you later at Antoine’s.”

  Without further explanation, the three girls ducked into the shop. Donna Mae, looking impatient, followed them, but Alex remained outside. When the proprietor came forward, Bess and George engaged him in conversation about a flowered plate. Nancy pretended to examine a miniature vase on a table near the window while watching to see if the suspect passed.

  To her complete astonishment, the man stopped and spoke to Alex. It was nearly a full minute before he moved on. Nancy signaled to Bess, who said to th
e proprietor:

  “Thank you very much. I’ll think it over.”

  Quickly Nancy left the shop, followed by the other girls. The suspect was not far ahead of them. Nancy started off at a brisk pace to speak to him and perhaps find a policeman.

  “What’s the hurry?” Alex asked, catching up to and taking her arm.

  “I want to talk to someone,” Nancy replied hastily. “By the way, what did the man who stopped to speak to you want?”

  “That fellow! Why, he—uh—wanted to paint your picture.”

  “What did you say to him?” Nancy asked.

  Alex laughed. “I told him there wasn’t a ghost of a chance of painting you.”

  Nancy gazed straight at Alex to determine if he was telling the truth or teasing her. But there was only an amused look in his eyes which gave her no clue.

  “I’d like to speak to the man myself, anyhow,” Nancy declared and hurried on.

  Alex and the other girls quickly followed, but by this time the suspect was out of sight. Nancy was annoyed at herself for letting him get away. “I’m sure he just pretended to be an artist!” she said to herself.

  Alex led the way to Antoine’s restaurant. Here the group walked through several crowded rooms before being shown a table. Nancy and the cousins observed with interest the walls that were covered with autographed photographs of famous persons.

  “I’m sure that he is the man who stole my car!”

  “Now, Alex,” Donna Mae said gaily, “let’s have some of those scrumptious dishes you and I adore.”

  As her fiancé nodded and beckoned to a waiter, Nancy said, “Please order something special for me.” She rose from the table. “And please excuse me a few minutes. I have to make a phone call.”

  Closing herself into a nearby booth, she got in touch with police headquarters, told her story about the stolen convertible, and the fact that she thought she had seen the suspect in town.

  “We’ll look into the matter at once, Miss Drew,” the officer in charge promised.

  “Thank you. I’m staying with Colonel Haver at Sunnymead,” said Nancy and gave him the number.

  The young detective hung up and started to open the door. Outside stood Alex Upgrove, staring at her intently!

  CHAPTER VII

  A Swamp Accident

  As NANCY stepped out of the telephone booth, Alex Upgrove’s eyes bored into hers. She stared back. Neither would waver, but Alex was the first to speak.

  “Nancy, why didn’t you tell me what was going on, so I could help you?” he chided. “I’m sure you’re all wrong about that man being the car thief. But we can investigate the used-car lots in the city and see if we can find your convertible.”

  “Thank you, Alex, but I’ll leave that to the police,” Nancy replied. She was angry that Alex had followed her and deliberately listened to her conversation.

  “Well, have it your own way,” he said, escorting her back to the table. “But I wish you wouldn’t be so mysterious. I could be a big help to you, really I could.”

  “No doubt,” Nancy said in an offhanded way.

  The young people thoroughly enjoyed their luncheon in the famous restaurant which had been operating in this same building since 1868. The lunch included the famous oysters Rockefeller, served in the half shell on hot salt, and garnished with a secret garlic sauce. Then came “chicken in the bag.” The waiter tore off the paper covering, revealing a succulent rice-stuffed bird. Dessert was pecan pie.

  As they left Antoine’s, Bess declared she could not eat another morsel until the next day!

  “Well, that’s fine,” said Donna Mae, laughing, “because I want to put on a rehearsal of the play and we won’t have to take time out for dinner.”

  The visitors reluctantly acquiesced. But each was thinking that she could not become too excited about appearing in the fairy costumes. Nancy writhed inwardly at the thought of further delay in starting her investigation of the showboat mystery.

  When they reached home, Donna Mae announced to her parents that rehearsal in full costumes would take place in half an hour. Colonel Haver puckered his lips and frowned.

  “I was going golfing,” he said.

  His wife smiled. “Time is getting short, dear. Maybe we’d better have the rehearsal.”

  As George, a few minutes later, was zippering herself into the winged fairy costume, she suddenly burst into laughter. “If you girls think these wings will hold me up, I believe I’ll fly away and escape this rehearsal.”

  Bess giggled. “You’d better not, or you may have Donna Mae or Alex flying after you.”

  When the three guests appeared on the first floor, they found the others already assembled. Colonel and Mrs. Haver looked very regal in their king and queen costumes. Donna Mae and Alex, attractive in the prince and princess garments of a bygone era, smiled graciously.

  “Oh, you look adorable!” Donna Mae exclaimed, but her mother gasped. “Why, I thought the three girls were going to be ladies in waiting.”

  “Want to see how a winged fairy acts?” George asked impishly.

  Instantly she bent double and began to do a dance step that resembled that of an Indian ceremonial. Then Bess began to chant a song in the manner of a three-year-old reciting a nursery rhyme. All but Donna Mae burst into laughter.

  “I’m afraid,” said Colonel Haver, “that these fairy costumes are not appropriate, Donna Mae.”

  “Then what are we going to do?” cried his daughter, who was on the verge of tears.

  Her mother said she thought something more regal would be suitable. She herself would select new costumes for the girls.

  Nancy sighed. “I had hoped to wear my mother’s beautiful shawl and fan to the ball. The suitcase they were packed in was stolen, you know.”

  “That was most unfortunate,” said Mrs. Haver. “But I’ll plan your costume so that you can wear the shawl and fan that evening if you should get them back in time.”

  Nancy flashed her a smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Haver.”

  After the three fairies had unsnapped their wings and laid them on the sofa, the rehearsal began. Earlier Pappy Cole had brought in several boxes to form a platform on which the actors could perform.

  “When we’re acting on the showboat, we’ll have a real stage,” said Mrs. Haver.

  “I wouldn’t count on that too much, my dear,” Colonel Haver remarked, “unless Nancy Drew solves the mystery.”

  Any reply Nancy might have made was interrupted by Bess who at that moment made a misstep on top of one of the boxes. As she fell backward onto the floor, everyone rushed forward to help her.

  “Are you hurt, Bess?” Nancy asked solicitously.

  “Oh, my arm!” Bess exclaimed, tears coming to her eyes. “I guess I wrenched it!”

  Mrs. Haver insisted that Bess go upstairs and lie down. Nancy offered to massage the arm and George said she would get cold compresses.

  “But what’s going to happen to the rehearsal?” Donna Mae wailed.

  “We’ll have to postpone it,” her mother replied.

  Donna Mae continued to complain peevishly that everything would be ruined, and had her friends and family forgotten that her engagement was to be announced the night of the ball?

  “Everything just must go smoothly!” she exclaimed.

  Nancy and her friends were disgusted with the girl’s attitude. Ignoring her, they climbed the stairs to George and Bess’s bedroom.

  “What’s the matter with that cousin of ours?” George burst out.

  “Oh, don’t pick on her, George,” said Bess. “I think Donna Mae is nervous and irritable because her conscience bothers her.”

  “You mean about Charles Bartolome?” Nancy asked.

  “Yes.”

  Bess decided to spend the remainder of the afternoon and evening in her room. Nancy and George had supper with the family on the terrace. Shortly afterward, Nancy announced she was going to her room and planned to retire early.

  “I’ve had a lovely day. Tha
nk you so much. Good night, everyone.”

  As Nancy walked into the house, Alex hurried after her. “Wait a minute, Nancy. Don’t leave yet,” he pleaded. “I want to talk to you. Won’t you please tell me what your plans are for solving the mystery?”

  “Truthfully, I haven’t any,” said Nancy.

  As she started to walk on, Alex took her hand. “If you have no plans, may I suggest some?”

  Nancy was annoyed, but she did not want to be rude. “What kind of plans?” she asked.

  “Well, first of all, I think you ought to see the showboat. What say you and I get up early tomorrow morning and take a canoe out there together?”

  “How early?” Nancy asked, parrying for time to think up an excuse not to accept the invitation.

  “Oh, before the others are up,” Alex said with a sly smile. “We’ll get back for breakfast.”

  By this time Nancy had an answer. “Alex, I understand the bayou is very dangerous. Neither of us is familiar with it. Sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t go with you.”

  With that, she went up the steps two at a time and hurried to her room, closing the door.

  “What a pest he is!” Nancy said to herself. Then she smiled. “One thing I can do without is his company to the showboat.”

  Nancy sat down in a chair by the window, lost in thought. Suddenly she arose. “I’ll find out right now about a guide to take me through the bayou.”

  The young detective decided that Mammy Matilda and Pappy Cole might know a trustworthy guide.

  Nancy peered into the hall to be sure Alex was not in sight, then she hurried to a back stairway leading to the kitchen and went down. Mammy Matilda and Pappy Cole were just finishing their supper.

  “That was a delicious meal,” Nancy said, sitting down on a high stool. “I’ve never eaten anything that tasted better than that Creole rice.”

  The elderly couple smiled and thanked her. Then Nancy changed the subject. “I’d like to visit the old showboat. Could you recommend a good guide?”

  The two servants looked frightened, and Mammy Matilda said, “Miss Nancy, you mustn’t go near that there showboat.”