The Mysterious Mannequin Read online

  “Don’t give up now!” Nancy replied.

  George, loyal to Nancy, ran faster. The girls tried their best to overtake the man. He suddenly cut across a parking lot filled with cars. Presently he dodged behind a small truck and they could not see where he went. Unfortunately there was no fence around the place, merely a barrier about a foot high.

  “I’m afraid he’s gone,” Nancy said.

  Nevertheless, the two girls scurried in and out among the cars and looked beyond the barrier, but could not see their quarry anywhere. Finally they gave up the chase and returned to the street.

  At the same time Bess arrived with the police. Nancy told her story and one of the men said, “That fellow sure acts as if he’s guilty of some crime.”

  Nancy handed the wallet to the officer who said his name was Parker.

  “Hm! All identification has been removed.” Nancy was sorry to hear this. She had been hopeful of finding out who the suspect was.

  “There’s nothing in here but a letter without an envelope,” Parker remarked.

  He unfolded the sheet and stared at the writing. Nancy looked too.

  “Is that in Greek?” she asked.

  “Is it?” Parker asked his companion. When he said yes, Parker introduced him as Officer Paras of Greek descent.

  “Will you translate this for us?”

  Paras read it through silently, then said, “The handwriting is rather poor but I think it says, ‘I made an investigation here in Istanbul. Farouk Tahmasp is dead.’ It is signed Seli.”

  “Dead!” Bess shrieked.

  The two officers looked at her in amazement and Parker asked, “You know this Farouk?”

  “No, not personally,” Bess answered. “Nancy Drew here will tell you about it.”

  Without revealing all the angles of the mystery, Nancy said, “He was a client of my father’s before he disappeared. We have been trying to find out something about him.”

  Officer Paras said, “I guess this note answers your question.”

  Nancy did not contradict him but a sudden suspicion had entered the young detective’s mind. “May I see the note, please?”

  The officer handed it to her. She scrutinized the paper carefully, then held it up to the bright sunlight. She was not surprised to find that it had been manufactured in the United States.

  “See something?” George asked her.

  Nancy revealed what she had discovered, and added, “I believe this letter is a fake. It was written to make the girl he was talking to think that Farouk is dead.”

  George interposed, “But why would this guy write the letter in Greek of all things?”

  “Maybe he’s Greek,” Bess said simply.

  Nancy did not enter into the cousins’ conversation. Instead she gave a more detailed account of the whole episode to the police officers, including the fact that the girl, after reading the letter, had burst into tears.

  “The man seemed to be trying to soothe her but she kept repulsing him. Then when he saw me, he told her to run and not be caught. He went in the other direction.”

  “The whole thing does look fishy,” Parker admitted.

  Bess burst out, “What a terrible trick to play on anyone!”

  “Do you suppose,” said George, “that the girl the burglar met is a relative of his or possibly of Farouk Tahmasp?”

  “She could be,” Parker answered.

  He asked Nancy for a description and said the police would look for her. “Perhaps if she learns the note is a fake, she’ll reveal the identity of the man who showed it to her.”

  Paras added, “If we find out anything at all, we’ll be in touch with you.”

  The two men drove off. Nancy, Bess, and George returned to the convertible.

  “It’s certainly been an exciting morning,” Bess remarked. “When we saw you run out of that bakery, we rushed. The police arrived. We told them we were working with you and they took us along.”

  George observed, “Well, we got one new clue in the mystery. That suspect is connected in some way with Farouk. He must know Farouk sent the rug. I wonder if the burglar is a Turk or a Greek.”

  “He could be a Greek who lived in Turkey,” Nancy replied. “When I first saw him in our house, I thought he might be Turkish.”

  A large clock in a jeweler’s window told the girls that it was lunchtime. Bess suggested that they all go to her house.

  “I’ll make one of those fluffy cheese soufflés,” she said.

  Nancy smiled. “It sounds good, but an idea just came to me of how we might do a little more sleuthing.”

  Bess groaned. “I vote for it if it includes food.”

  George looked at her cousin in disgust. “You and your appetite ! How about our going to a diet restaurant?”

  Nancy laughed. “Not today. I know of a wonderful restaurant in the section of town where most of the people speak Greek.”

  George said she knew the one Nancy meant. “It has an odd name, Akurzal Lokanta. It’s been there a long time and the food’s delicious.”

  “Lokanta is the Greek word for restaurant,” Nancy added. “Akurzal must be the owner’s name. I thought we might have lunch there and possibly pick up some information.”

  Bess was delighted with the idea until Nancy brought up a new subject. As they were driving toward the restaurant, she said, “It’s just possible that burglar dropped the wallet on purpose to mislead us.”

  “I agree,” George said. “First he removed all the contents except the letter, so he couldn’t be identified.”

  A worried expression came over Bess’s face. “Nancy,” she said, “if he’d do that, maybe even that little drama of the girl crying was part of the act.”

  “You’re probably right,” her cousin said.

  Bess looked frightened. “Nancy, I don’t think we should go to the Greek restaurant. Suppose that awful burglar decides to have lunch there too? Oh, Nancy, I have a feeling you’ll be in real danger if you go there!”

  CHAPTER IX

  Silent Warning

  GEORGE looked at Bess and said, “You know perfectly well Nancy wouldn’t give up the case. She’s not a scaredy-cat.”

  Bess defended herself. “It’s not a matter of being scared. I think Nancy’s in danger.”

  As often happened Nancy had to play the part of peacemaker between the cousins. Now she said, “Probably you’re both right. But I’m sure nothing is going to happen to any of us while eating in that Greek restaurant. It’s a perfectly respectable part of town, even though it is old and some of the buildings are a bit shabby.”

  “And besides,” George put in, “I bet there’s more than one Greek restaurant in town. The burglar has a choice.”

  “Oh, all right,” Bess conceded. “Next you’ll be telling me there are zillions of Turkish restaurants there.”

  As the girls rode along, conversation turned to the subject of the mannequin.

  “Do you really think,” George asked Nancy, “that Farouk hid something in her and that’s the reason he wants her brought to Istanbul?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” she answered. “I admit I’m puzzled.”

  “If he did,” George went on, “why didn’t Farouk take whatever it was with him?”

  “Yes,” Nancy replied, “and why would he ask my father to bring the mannequin to Istanbul? Why not have it sent? And why did he ask my father? Why not a relative or a close friend?”

  George had an answer. “You said Farouk left because he thought he was going to be indicted for smuggling and couldn’t stand the disgrace. He would have traveled as lightly as possible, not taking any baggage at all from here. He probably planned to purchase new clothing in Canada before flying to Paris.”

  Nancy smiled. George’s reasoning made sense. She answered, “I can only guess that he did not trust anyone except my Dad.”

  Bess had been listening without comment. Now she said, “I have one great big why. Why did Farouk make everything so complicated? He sure must be sc
ared of something or somebody.”

  By this time they had entered the narrow street where the Akurzal Lokanta was located. Nancy had to drive some distance up the block before she found a parking space.

  On the walk to the restaurant the girls were intrigued by the foreign-looking shops along the way. Tall, narrow-necked coffeepots were among the many attractive objects made of brass. Bess especially liked the leather hassocks and large silk pillows to be used for sitting on the floor.

  She gave a little giggle. “Don’t let me loose here. I’ll be spending more money than I can afford. Aren’t the things yummy?”

  George could not resist the temptation to tease her cousin. “But think of all the work keeping that brass polished!”

  The girls entered the restaurant and were assigned a table. The place was well filled and waiters were bustling around. When one came to take their order, all three girls said they would have grape leaves stuffed with meat, and baklava for dessert.

  While Nancy was waiting, she looked around at the diners, wondering if any of them might be able to answer her questions about Farouk or the Drews’ burglar. Presently a short, stout man came from the kitchen and paused at her table.

  Smiling, he said, “Pardon, miss. But I think I have seen your picture in the newspapers. Are you not Miss Nancy Drew the detective?”

  “Yes, I am,” Nancy replied modestly.

  She had noticed that people at nearby tables apparently had heard the question and were looking in her direction. She requested the man to sit down, saying she would like to ask him a few questions.

  “These are my friends Bess Marvin and George Fayne.”

  The man bowed and replied he was Mr. Akurzal, owner of the restaurant. He said to Nancy, “How can I help you?”

  She told him they were looking for two people who, they thought, might be either Greek or Turkish. “One is a young lady. She’s beautiful and has big dark eyes and long black hair.”

  The restaurant owner smiled. “Most Greek and Turkish girls are beautiful.”

  “The other person,” Nancy went on, “is a young man in his early twenties. He has blue eyes, black hair, and a mustache and beard.”

  Before Mr. Akurzal could reply, a man at a nearby table jumped up and came toward the table. He was about forty years of age, swarthy, and had narrowed eyelids. He began waving a fist at Nancy.

  “Why are you asking all these questions?” he demanded.

  Bess looked frightened and George sat ready to take Nancy’s part should there be any trouble.

  Nancy herself remained calm. “Suppose you introduce yourself,” she said coldly.

  “Why are you asking all these questions?” the stranger demanded

  The belligerent man stopped waving his fist and turned to the owner.

  “If you tell these girls anything, you have me to reckon with!” he shouted.

  Mr. Akurzal, looking very embarrassed and uncomfortable, arose. “I must attend to something in the kitchen,” he said hurriedly and left the room.

  The swarthy man glared at the girls but said no more. He returned to his table and did not look in their direction again.

  George whispered, “What was all that about?”

  Nancy shrugged. She surmised that the obnoxious man was some kind of a neighborhood boss. Having overheard that Nancy was a detective, he figured she might be snooping to find out something which he did not want known. Did he know the burglar? She would report the incident to Chief McGinnis.

  Bess said in a low voice, “Let’s get out of here!”

  “I’m sure we’re perfectly safe,” Nancy reassured her. “Besides, we have already given special food orders. It wouldn’t be fair to Mr. Akurzal to walk out.”

  A few minutes later the swinging doors to the kitchen opened and their waiter returned carrying a tray laden with chunks of Greek bread and bowls of yogurt.

  Bess was about to say she had not ordered this, when the waiter said, “The yogurt is compliments of the house. Make it special here.”

  As the man went off, a smile crossed Bess’s face. “I guess the owner is trying to make up for what happened.”

  She dipped her spoon into the yogurt and declared it was delicious. As soon as the girls finished eating it, the waiter brought in the plates of stuffed grape leaves. As he set Nancy’s portion down in front of her, he unobtrusively dropped a note into her lap.

  She gave no sign that she had noticed it, but instantly spread the paper out on her lap and read it.

  “There are many young people who answer your description but you might look for two men, Cemal Aga and Tunay Arik, and girls, Alime Gursel and Aisha Hatun.”

  Nancy was thrilled by these clues. Mr. Akurzal had undoubtedly written the note and told the waiter to pass it to her without anyone noticing. She slipped the message into her purse and began eating. The main dish was delicious as well as the dessert which followed.

  Bess had never had baklava before and was intrigued by the layers of flaky crust baked with honey and filled with chopped nuts. “Absolutely divine,” she said.

  Mr. Akurzal did not reappear in the dining room, no doubt because the unpleasant diner was still there. The girls paid their checks and rose to leave. As they passed the table where the man sat, he glowered at them. Nancy wondered if this was a silent warning to her to stay out of the area.

  “But I’ll come if I want to!” she told herself.

  Nevertheless, Nancy decided to consult her father before hunting up the people named in the note. After the girls were in the car, she told them about her latest clues.

  “That’s great,” said Bess, “but I hope you’re not going to start right now looking for them. Haven’t we all had enough sleuthing for one day?”

  Her cousin agreed. “Nancy, I have a suggestion. You’ll put your think machine out of business if you keep up this intense work. What say we get hold of Helen Archer and have a good game of tennis?”

  Nancy had to admit that she had been pushing on the case since early morning and told the girls she thought it best to talk to her father anyway before continuing her search.

  “Some sets of doubles sound cool. Let’s stop at a street phone and call Helen.”

  She drove to the next corner and George hopped out to make the call. Helen Corning had been married only a short time ago to Jim Archer. She had helped Nancy solve a few mysteries.

  George came back to report that Helen would meet them at the club. The girls went home to pick up their tennis gear and within half an hour were batting practice balls back and forth over the net. Presently they were playing in earnest.

  After four sets, with Bess and George winning two of them and Nancy and Helen the other two, the four girls sat down to rest. The pretty, brunette bride inquired what mystery Nancy was working on.

  When she heard about the mannequin she said, “Oh, I remember her well. Mother used to take me into Farouk Tahmasp’s shop once in a while. She loved Turkish rugs. We all wondered what became of him.”

  She smiled broadly, then went on, “So you’re trying to find the mannequin now and take her to Istanbul. How exciting!” Suddenly Helen exclaimed, “Nancy, I believe I know where the mannequin is!”

  CHAPTER X

  Exasperating Search

  HELEN Archer’s announcement startled Nancy, Bess, and George. In one breath they asked, “Where? Where is the mannequin?”

  “Over in the town of Croston. As soon as we shower and change our clothes I’ll take you there.”

  Half an hour later the four were on their way to the river resort town. Helen pulled off the main highway and took a side road up a steep, wooded hill. At the top she parked in front of the beautiful Hotel Beauregarde which overlooked the water. She led the girls through the elegantly furnished lobby and down a carpeted hallway to an attractive shop.

  “There she is!” Helen said.

  In a corner of the shopwindow stood a Turkish woman mannequin. She was dressed in a costume similar to the one that had been in F
arouk’s place.

  “How exciting!” Bess burst out. “Nancy, I believe your search has come to an end.”

  Nancy was hopeful but not as positive as Bess.

  The glint in the eyes of this mannequin was strangely different from Farouk’s. She would soon know the truth.

  The four girls walked inside and were greeted by a young boy.

  “May I help you?” he asked.

  Helen answered, “I’m Mrs. Archer. We’d like to talk to the owner.”

  The boy went off and presently a stylishly dressed, gray-haired woman came from an office.

  “How do you do, Mrs. Archer?” she said. “It’s good to see you again.”

  Helen introduced her friends to the woman, whom she addressed as Miss Lucille. She said, “Nancy is trying to locate a certain mannequin. I thought the one in your window might be it.”

  Nancy asked where the woman had purchased her model.

  She answered promptly, “Oh, I didn’t buy her. All the figures that were for sale didn’t please me, so I had this one made to order.”

  Helen laughed. “Well, Nancy,” she said, “I did my best.”

  “You certainly did and I appreciate it.” Nancy turned to the shop owner. “I’m trying to locate a mannequin which used to be on display in the window of a Turkish rug dealer in River Heights. By any chance, do you know the one I’m talking about?”

  “Oh yes,” replied Miss Lucille. “You are referring to Mr. Tahmasp’s store?”

  Nancy nodded and Miss Lucille continued, “That was a very fine shop. I used to buy rugs from Mr. Tahmasp and sell them here.”

  “Have you any idea what happened to him or his mannequin?” Nancy inquired.

  The woman shook her head. “As I recall, the man disappeared rather suddenly. Too bad. He certainly had beautiful things to sell.” She paused a moment, then added, “As far as the mannequin is concerned I’m afraid I can’t help you. Perhaps you should check with the museums or other stores.”

  Nancy said she had investigated nearly every possibility without success.

  Miss Lucille pointed to a pile of Oriental and American magazines on a table. “There is an article in one of those that might be of some help to you,” she said.