The Haunted Carousel Read online

  they were not convinced.

  “Well, of course I’m sure,” she retorted. “I certainly saw him well enough yesterday to know what he looks like. Why?”

  “Because we ordered both the entrance and exit doors locked as soon as we got here,” Doyle replied, “and then we checked every person who was inside, one by one.”

  “Fingers Malone wasn’t among them,” Norris added. “And he’s not in the house, either. We searched the place before you came to.” “But I saw him,” Nancy insisted. She told the two officers exactly what had happened inside the Haunted House, and ended, “If you didn’t see Malone, then he must have gotten away before you arrived.”

  Officer Doyle frowned. “That doesn’t seem too likely, Nancy. He wouldn’t have had time.” She pondered for a moment, then brightened. “Wait, I know how we can find out for sure!” “How?”

  “My friend Bess was waiting outside the exit. I told her to keep watch for Malone and follow him if he came out!”

  Doyle glanced at his colleague, who shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. Let’s go and see what she says.”

  Nancy’s blond friend was still standing out-

  side the Haunted House, among the onlookers who had gathered after the arrival of the police.

  “Oh, Nancy! Thank goodness you’re all right!” Bess exclaimed and gave her a hug of relief. “I was so worried!”

  “Never mind,” Nancy assured her with a smile. “As you see, I’m okay. But what about Fingers Malone? Didn’t you follow him?”

  Bess looked puzzled. “Well, of couse not. He never came out. Isn’t he under arrest?”

  7. A Redheaded Visitor

  “No, we haven’t arrested Malone,” Officer Doyle told Bess. “We can’t find him. He’s not in the house, and you say he never came out.” “No, I’m sure he didn’t,” Bess declared. “I’ve been keeping watch on the exit ever since we got here. . . .” Her voice trailed off into silence and she stared in bewilderment, first at the two policemen and then at Nancy.

  The latter was both puzzled and embarrassed. She was sure the man she had chased was Fingers Malone. Bess had seen him, too. The way he had fled more or less proved they had made no mistake in recognizing the pickpocket.

  Yet now he seemed to have vanished into thin air! What made it all the more frustrating

  and annoying was the way Officer Doyle and Detective Norris were looking at her. Obviously, they both put her story down to an over- active imagination.

  “If I didn’t see Fingers Malone, who hit me on the head?” she demanded.

  An uncomfortable expression came over Norris’s face, and he cleared his throat before replying. “Well, Miss Drew, in your excitement you probably ran into something.”

  “Then I must have been running backward, to get hit on the back of my head—is that what you’re saying?”

  The detective shrugged sheepishly. “Maybe you turned to glance over your shoulder and bumped into the door frame, who knows?” “Don’t worry about it, girls,” Officer Doyle spoke up. “We’ll nab Malone sooner or later if he’s anywhere in the park.”

  And with that, the two policemen walked off. Nancy and Bess exchanged rueful looks and started back to the marina parking lot where the teenage sleuth had left the car.

  “Gee, I just don’t understand where that crook went, do you, Nancy?” Bess said.

  “No, but I intend to find out before this case is over. We can discuss that later, though—right now I’m too hungry.”

  Bess giggled. “Stop stealing my lines!”

  Laughing and chatting, the two girls drove back to the Drews’ house and found George Fayne waiting there for them.

  “Oh, great!” Nancy exclaimed happily. “Let’s get some lunch.”

  "There’s a big bowl of salad in the re- rrigerator and some sliced cold chicken,” Hannah Gruen told her after greeting the two.

  “Would you like me to make some sandwiches?”

  “We’ll do it, Hannah,” Nancy smiled.

  “By the way, you’ve had more phone calls about the carousel mystery,” the housekeeper reported and added with a wry chuckle, “My, :>h my, you wouldn’t believe what crazy ideas people have! One man asked me to tell you that a dray horse died from heatstroke, years ago, in the street just outside the park. He thinks its ghost may be turning the merry-go-round at night.”

  In response to the girls’ queries, Hannah Gruen described several other far-out theories 'Uggested by Nancy’s phone callers. The three friends discussed them as they nibbled their sandwiches and salad on the big, cheerful sun porch.

  “Maybe there’s a park poltergeist,” said George only half seriously.

  “Isn’t that the kind of ghost that throws things

  around in haunted houses?’’ Bess asked her cousin.

  “Right—usually when there’s a scatterbrained teenager somewhere on the premises. And remember,” George teased, “you often go to Riverside Park.”

  Bess responded by playfully throwing a piece of carrot at her. When the laughter subsided, Nancy said, “Anyhow, I’m not ready to accept any ghost theories—yet. At least not until I’ve checked out all the possible natural causes. That’s why I intend to have an engineer examine the carousel—to see if it’s been tampered with.”

  “Any particular engineer in mind?” George asked.

  Nancy shook her head. “No, can you suggest someone?”

  “Oh, I know!” Bess exclaimed, smiling. George frowned at her cousin. “Bess, don’t be childish!” Turning to Nancy, she said, “As a matter of fact, I have a friend who’s studying electrical engineering in college. You haven’t met him yet, but his name’s Neil Sawyer.”

  “Is he here in River Heights?”

  “Yes, he has a summer job at a recording studio on Maple Street.”

  “Sounds just right for the job!” Nancy smiled

  happily. “Do you think he’d do it?”

  “Oh, he’d be delighted to—if George asked him!” It was Bess’s turn to tease, and she was rewarded by seeing her cousin blush.

  As Nancy got up to serve the lemon chiffon pie, she mused aloud, “Just for the sake of argument, let’s say some human joker is making the carousel act up at night. What possible reason could anyone have for playing such a trick?”

  “Maybe someone doesn’t like the owner, so he’s trying to scare away customers,” put in George.

  Nancy nodded thoughtfully. “Clever idea . . . only if that’s his game, it doesn’t seem to be working very well. It would make a better publicity gimmick, wouldn’t it, to attract business?”

  “Guess you’re right,” George agreed. “There were certainly a lot of riders when we were at the park with the Custer kids.”

  “Mm, this is delicious!” Bess said, taking a forkful of pie. “You know, I saw a movie about a bank robbery on TV the other night. In the film, the thieves purposely started a fire in another building to distract the cops’ attention while they were looting the bank vault.”

  Nancy flashed a startled glance at her friend.

  “You mean, someone may be using the carousel the same way—to draw the attention of any policemen in the park area, while a crime’s being committed somewhere nearby?”

  “Something like that,” Bess said timidly. “I guess it’s a pretty wild idea, huh?”

  “Maybe and maybe not,” returned Nancy. “I’d say it’s worth following up.”

  When they had finished eating, the girls carried their lunch things into the kitchen and washed the dishes. In ten minutes, all was neat again.

  “Nancy, don’t forget about our cookout tonight,” Bess said as the two cousins prepared to leave.

  “No danger,” Nancy said with an eager smile. “Let me just run upstairs and tell Hannah. Then I’ll drive you two home.”

  “Mind if I use your phone?” asked George. “Help yourself.”

  By the time Nancy came downstairs again, George was just hanging up. “I just called Neil Sawyer. He says he’ll check the ca
rousel for you this afternoon.”

  “Oh, marvelous!”

  After dropping Bess and George at the Faynes’ house, Nancy drove on to police headquarters, where she asked to see her friend, Police Chief McGinnis.

  “How goes the carousel mystery, Nancy?” the stocky, gray-haired officer inquired after offering her a chair facing his desk.

  “At the moment, I’m still baffled, Chief,” the young detective confessed.

  “Any way I can help?”

  “Actually, I was wondering if the police might have a record of the dates and times the carousel started playing by itself at night.”

  McGinnis nodded, “Yes, we’ve had calls from the public every time, so there should be a complete record in the precinct log. Like me to find out?”

  “If you would, I’d certainly appreciate it,” Nancy replied. “Also, I’d like to know whether any crimes were committed in the area around the park at those same times.”

  “Sure, no problem. I’ll check it out and get back to you,” the police chief promised.

  After thanking him and chatting a while longer, Nancy left headquarters and drove home. As she walked into the house, Hannah stuck her head around the kitchen door.

  “Nancy, you just missed a visitor.”

  “Oh, who?”

  “A red-haired girl named Joy Trent. She phoned this morning. Remember my telling you about a girl who wanted you to solve a mystery for her?”

  “Oh yes, I do remember, Hannah. What did you tell her?”

  “I said you’d been so busy you hadn’t had time to return all your calls yet, but you’d be in touch with her as soon as possible. She seemed like a very nice girl—very polite,” the housekeeper added approvingly. “She even apologized for bothering me, and said she hoped she wasn’t making a nuisance of herself.”

  “I’ll call her right now,” Nancy decided.

  “Oh no, you won’t be able to reach her, I’m afraid. She said she’d be out most of the afternoon and evening,” Hannah explained, “but if you could call her sometime tomorrow, she’d appreciate it.”

  Fleetingly, Nancy was reminded of something, but couldn’t quite call it to mind. “What did this Joy Trent look like, Hannah?”

  “Oh, I’d say she was a bit younger than you, Nancy, and she had very coppery red hair and freckles. Also, I imagine her parents must be very well-to-do, because her clothes were lovely and she was driving a very expensive- looking, foreign sports car.”

  Nancy knit her brow thoughtfully, but finally shook her head. “I feel I should know her from somewhere, Hannah, but I can’t place her.”

  “I think you’d have a hard time forgetting this girl, dear,” said the housekeeper. “Not only does she have red hair and freckles, but when I was talking to her, I noticed her eyes were two different colors. One was green and one brown.”

  Nancy gave up, despite a recollection that was flickering on the edge of her memory. “Guess I’ll have to wait till I see her.”

  She spent the rest of the afternoon returning telephone calls that Hannah had noted down or that had been recorded on the answering machine. Late in the day, Nancy showered and changed into blue jeans and a pale blue knit pullover top, since George had said not to dress up.

  Calling out to Hannah, “I’m leaving for George and Bess’s cookout now!” Nancy went out to her blue sports car and drove to the Faynes’ house. A number of cars were parked in front. Nancy recognized several as belonging to friends of the two cousins.

  As she walked around to the backyard of the pleasant, old colonial house, the sound of laughter and chatter reached her ears. A number of

  people, young and old, were sitting or standing around. The barbecue fires had been lit and buffet tables of food set out.

  With whoops of delight, the three Custer children cornered Nancy. “I’ve told my mom all about you,” said Janet, “and now I want you to come and meet her!”

  Nancy was propelled by the youngsters toward a pleasant-faced, curly-haired woman who was chatting with Mrs. Marvin and Mrs. Fayne. But she had only a few minutes to get acquainted with Mrs. Custer before George and a blond young man in hom-rimmed glasses came over to join them.

  “Nancy, I want you to meet Neil Sawyer,” said George. “He’s already checked out the carousel! Isn’t that great?”

  “Wonderful!” Nancy smiled at George’s new friend. “I’m happy to meet you, Neil—and I really appreciate your taking the trouble to inspect the carousel so promptly. Did you find anything of interest?”

  “I sure did,” Neil grinned back. “In fact, I believe I can tell you how the trick is done!”

  8. Radio Gimmick

  Nancy’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Can you explain it to someone who knows nothing about electrical engineering?”

  Neil nodded. “Sure, there’s nothing very complicated about it. Do you know what a radio relay is?”

  “Not really.” Nancy dimpled and shook her head.

  “Okay, well think of it as a kind of switch that turns something on and off. Only you don’t have to push it with your finger, as you would a light switch.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s a remote-control switch that’s operated by a radio signal.”

  “You mean, a person could be some distance from the carousel and start it or stop it that

  way?"

  “Exactly. All he’d need is a radio transmitter to beep out a signal of the right frequency.” “How far away would he have to be?” Nancy inquired keenly.

  Neil Sawyer shrugged. “Anywhere from a few feet to a few miles, or even farther, depending on how powerful a transmitter he used.” “And how big would the radio relay be?” “Very small. If it was attached to a magnet, it could be clamped underneath the operator’s control box, and you’d never even notice it.” Neil said that old-fashioned carousels, dating back before the turn of the century, worked by steam power, which was also used to pump the band organ that played the merry-go-round music. But nowadays carousels are run by electric motors, and the music comes from an electronic tape.

  “The radio relay,” he went on, “would have two little wires with alligator clips on the end, so they could snap onto the wires coming out of the operator’s control box.”

  “In other words,” Nancy said, “whoever played the trick would just have to stick the relay in place underneath the control box, and then clip on the two wires?”

  “Right. Even a kid could do it in seconds. And to remove it, he’d just unsnap the wires and pull off the relay.”

  Teenagers and adults occasionally rode the merry-go-round. Neil guessed that the prankster could deftly attach such a device without being noticed, while customers were getting on and off the carousel between rides. And it could be removed just as easily the next day—or, for that matter, during the night after the carousel had performed its spooky routine.

  “Is there any sort of clue that might tell us whether or not a radio relay was used the way you described?” Nancy asked thoughtfully.

  “Yes, though I wouldn’t call it proof,” Neil replied. “Some of the insulated covering is worn away from the wires that come out of the control box. And I noticed several scratch marks that might have been made by alligator clips.” Nancy thanked the engineering student for his help. Neil’s theory gave her the exciting hope that she might now be one step closer to a solution of the haunted carousel mystery.

  Next morning after breakfast, she called the red-haired girl who had come to the house. The phone was answered by a sharp-voiced woman.

  “May I speak to Joy Trent, please?” Nancy said politely.

  “Joy’s not here. Who’s calling?” was the curt

  response. Somehow, the woman managed to sound bossy, impatient, and inquisitive, all at the same time.

  “My name is Nancy Drew. Joy left a message asking me to get in touch with her.”

  “Hmph, what was your name again?”

  “Nancy Drew.”

  “All right, I�
�ll tell her you called,” the woman said grudgingly and hung up.

  Nancy put down the phone with a wry smile. Whoever the woman was, her telephone manner was anything but gracious.

  Nancy was about to turn away into the living room when the phone rang. She picked up the receiver again. Her caller was Ned Nickerson.

  “I’m back from Emerson,” he reported. “How about lunch?”

  “Sounds wonderful!” Nancy replied, her spirits instantly rising. “Where should we meet?”

  “You name it.”

  “Well, let me see. I have to go to Riverside Park again.

  “Say no more, I’ll meet you there. Eleven- thirty be okay?”

  “Perfect!”

  After hanging up, Nancy told Hannah Gruen her plans for the day. Later that morning, she found a space for her blue sports car in the parking lot adjoining the amusement-ride area, and strolled across the park toward the carousel.

  As she approached it, she saw a woman talking to the merry-go-round owner, Leo Novak. The woman, about 40, was attractive and well dressed. She was showing Novak a piece of paper that looked like a newspaper or magazine clipping. As she spoke, she gestured toward the carousel. Novak shrugged and shook his head in response.

  Nancy paused, not wanting to intrude on the conversation. The woman took a card and pen from her purse. She wrote something on the card, handed it to Novak, then turned away.

  Nancy resumed her approach. By the time she was able to speak to Leo Novak, the woman was some distance away.

  “Do you mind telling me who that lady was?” Nancy asked the ride owner.

  “Aw, just some busybody who’s read all that hokum in the news about my haunted merry- go-round,” Novak brushed off her query.

  Nancy noticed that he was wearing a large eye patch. “By the way, what’s wrong with your eye?” she inquired sympathetically. “Nothing serious, I hope?”

  The owner seemed embarrassed by her question. “Got a speck in it last night, that’s all. This

  morning, it was still sore. It’ll clear up.”