Race Against Time Page 5

  "It looks like the Grimsbys' silver collection must be short one piece, then," Ned observed.

  But the young detective shook her head. "I doubt it. All their valuables were cleared out years ago, and this vase certainly hasn't been here that long. The silver's still untarnished."

  As she turned the vase over in her hand, Nancy's keen eyes noticed a slender monogram etched on one side. "Look! It's initialed with the letter W so it couldn't have belonged to the Grimsby family."

  "Leave it to the super sleuth to spot all the clues!" Ned announced and grinned proudly. "If it didn't belong to the Grimsbys, how did it get under that chair, Nancy?"

  "Good question," she replied thoughtfully. "I was wondering that myself."

  The vase was put aside while the next scene was

  being filmed. Afterwards, since their parts were over for that day's shooting schedule, Nancy and Bess said good-bye to the others and left. On a sudden impulse, Nancy took the silver vase with her, promising to turn it in to the police.

  "Do you think it was stolen?" Bess asked as they drove off down the forest lane.

  "There's one way to find out."

  At police headquarters in River Heights, Nancy and her friend were admitted immediately to the office of Chief McGinnis.

  "Ill have this checked out against our records of stolen articles," he said, setting the vase on his desk. "Thanks for bringing it in, Nancy."

  "While I'm here," she said, "could you please tell us what your fingerprint expert found out about that coffee thermos?"

  "Let's get his report right now. I'm curious, myself." Picking up the phone, the police chief spoke to someone in the detective bureau, and a few moments later a tall, dark-haired officer in plain clothes came into the office.

  "This is Detective Hart, who's in charge of the racehorse case," McGinnis introduced him. "What did you get from that thermos, Phil?"

  "Several smudged prints, Chief, none of them very good, but we'll check them out with the FBI.

  One things certain, though. None of Alf Sanchez's prints are on the thermos. We know that for sure because we took his prints when he was first brought in for questioning."

  Nancy was delighted at the news. "Then that can't possibly be his thermos!" she declared.

  Detective Hart nodded. "I agree. If Sanchez had been drinking out of it that evening, his prints would have been all over it."

  "So the thieves must have substituted a different thermos," she pointed out, "which means Mr. Sanchez's story that he was drugged may be true!"

  Both Chief McGinnis and the detective agreed with the point. "Id say it's almost certain he was drugged," Chief McGinnis added. "Otherwise, why would the thieves have bothered to substitute a different thermos? They were probably hoping we'd pin the crime on him, or at least concentrate our efforts on proving Sanchez was involved."

  Detective Hart frowned and fingered his jaw thoughtfully. "There's another stablehand who's still under suspicion, though he claims to have an alibi."

  "Who is that?" Nancy asked.

  "Lou Yelvey. He used to work at Rainbow Ranch but was fired several months ago. If he's the type who holds a grudge, he might have given the thieves useful information about the stables, or he might even have helped them with the theft."

  "That makes sense," Chief McGinnis remarked. "And if Shooting Star recognized Yelvey, that would have helped the crooks make their getaway without the horse kicking up too much of a disturbance."

  Nancy considered this theory for a moment, then said, "Where is Yelvey working now?"

  "He's out of work," replied the detective. "After Mr. Harlow fired him, he went to work as a stablehand for one of Harlow's neighbors, Hugh Morston. But he didn't last long there, either."

  "You mentioned that he had an alibi," Nancy reminded him.

  "Yes, he says he was out with a friend on the night of the theft. But we're checking every move they made to see if all their time is accounted for."

  Detective Hart paused and gestured toward his superior. "The chief mentioned the thieves' getaway just now. Well, there's one odd thing about that. The theft happened on the Fourth of July, and there was lots of traffic on the road that evening due to people watching the fireworks. Yet we can't find a single witness who remembers seeing a horse trailer or a van that might have been used to carry off an animal of that size."

  Pointing to a wall map of the area, Hart continued, "So our theory is that Shooting Star may have been ridden all the way through Brookvale Forest. If so, the thief or thieves would have come out about here on North Road. That highway runs along the other side of the woods about two or three miles from Rainbow Ranch."

  "You mean the crooks might have had some vehicle parked there to take the horse away in?"

  "Right. As a matter of fact, weVe already followed up on that possibility, and weVe found several witnesses who say they saw a big black van parked there that evening just across from Tortoise Pond."

  "Good work on that, Phil," Chief McGinnis commended the detective. Glancing at Nancy, he added, "The description of the van, by the way, matches one that was stolen over in Keanesville earlier on that same day. In the case of a big-time robbery like this, crooks often prefer to use a stolen vehicle, so if anyone spots it, there's no way it can be traced back to them."

  Nancy thanked the officers for their information and left police headquarters with her girlfriend. Both were happy that Alf Sanchez appeared to be innocent.

  "That was really smart of you, Nancy," Bess beamed as they got into the car, "to think of having the thermos checked for fingerprints."

  The girl detective started the engine and steered smoothly into the stream of traffic. "Mr. Sanchez's innocence isn't the only thing this tells us," she confided.

  "What else?" her blond companion asked in surprise.

  "That the theft of Shooting Star was an inside job!"

  8. Exciting News

  "An inside job?" Bess echoed with a startled glance at Nancy. "You mean someone else at Rainbow Ranch may have helped the crooks steal Shooting Star?"

  Her companion nodded. "Yes, I feel sure of it."

  "But why? What makes you think so?"

  "Because," Nancy replied, "if the original thermos of coffee was drugged, it was probably done by someone right there at the ranch. Most likely someone working either in the kitchen or in the stable. Or maybe by whomever brought the coffee out to Alf Sanchez from the house."

  "You're right," Bess reflected. "It sounds so simple, and any of those people would have had the chance."

  The girls were on their way to the Drews' house. The fog had cleared and a weak sun was shining through scattered clouds.

  "Gosh, I hope Hannah has something good to nibble on. We've worked hard and I'm hungry," Nancy said.

  Soon they were relaxing on the swing glider on the cool, screened-in side porch, with tall glasses of lemonade and a bowl of potato chips on a table in front of them.

  But the quiet lasted only a few minutes. Then it was shattered by the shrill ringing of the telephone. Nancy jumped up. "I'd better answer that," she murmured. "Hannahs busy making a blueberry pie."

  She returned shortly.

  "Nancy, I can tell by the look on your face that you've had good news," Bess exclaimed. "Don't keep me guessing!"

  "Yes, it was rather exciting," Nancy said and smiled. "That was Tony Traynor. He says the sponsor of that TV commercial I posed for has chosen me to do it. And, Bess, there are going to be three separate commercials!"

  "Oh, super! Have you found out what product you'll be advertising?"

  Nancy giggled. "Venus beauty soap!"

  Her plump, blond friend grinned with delight. "Really?"

  "Really what?" George Fayne asked as she came out on the porch from the living room followed by Hannah bringing the pitcher of lemonade and another glass.

  "Nancy is going to do not one, not two, but three television commercials for Venus soap!"

  "Why, Nancy, that's terrific!" George exul
ted. "You'll become even more famous!"

  "She's right," Hannah said, smiling proudly at Nancy. She filled the glass she had brought with lemonade, then excused herself.

  After chattering for a while, George and Bess left to do some errands. Nancy decided she had better tell Ned about her TV assignment. Perhaps together they could work out a schedule so that Nancy could be in the film and not hold up the club's progress.

  "Hannah, I must drive over to Westmoor U to see Ned," Nancy said, bringing the empty glasses and pitcher out to the kitchen. "I'll be back in time for dinner."

  Threading her way through the afternoon traffic,

  Nancy had almost reached the university campus when she saw Lenny Arthur and Gwen Jethro in conversation with a spotty-faced young man standing by an open car door. He looked familiar, and from the way Gwen and Lenny kept casting furtive glances up and down the street, Nancy had the impression that they did not wish to be seen talking to him.

  She puzzled over the young mans identity. Who was he and where had she seen him before? I'll ask Ned about him, she thought to herself. But by the time she found Ned in the film laboratory and they had discussed the problem of scheduling, the incident had slipped her mind completely.

  Ned assured Nancy that the film club could easily shoot one or more scenes the next morning in which she would not be needed.

  'Tm glad," Nancy said with a sigh of relief. "I was afraid I might hold things up."

  As Ned walked her to her car, he asked, "Are you on your way home now?"

  "No, I think I'll go over to Rainbow Ranch to see Mr. Harlow." Nancy had already told Ned how the ranch owner had asked her to help solve the mystery of his stolen thoroughbred. She related briefly how she had helped confirm the stablehand Alf Sanchez's story that he had been drugged.

  A short time later, as Nancy turned up the tree-lined drive at Rainbow Ranch, she could see Roger Harlow walking back to the house from the stables. Parking her car, she hurried to join him.

  A movement beyond the flowerbed on her left caught Nancy's eye. It was Tina kneeling on the grass and playing with a kitten. Nancy smiled and waved. The little girl stared at her, then quickly got up and ran off through the trees and out of sight around the other side of the house.

  "Well, Nancy, what can I do for you?" Mr. Harlow asked with a smile as they met.

  "I thought you'd like to know the good news about Alf Sanchez."

  "Any good news will be welcome. Let's sit down on the patio and be comfortable while you tell me all about it." He led the way to some lawn chairs.

  Nancy began, "Mr. Harlow, I thought a good place to start my investigation would be to check Alf Sanchez's story. So I asked the police crime lab to examine the thermos that was found by him."

  "But they did," Mr. Harlow broke in.

  "Yes, I know. And they found no trace of any drugs. But this time I asked them to test it for fingerprints. They did, and there were prints on it, all right. But none of them were Alf Sanchez's!"

  As a startled look came over Mr. Harlow's face,

  the young detective went on, "Don't you see? If he had drunk from that thermos, his prints should have been all over it. But they weren't. So the one that was found must have been substituted after he fell asleep, which means his own thermos could have been drugged, just as Alf says, but the thieves didn't want you or the police to know it so you'd think he was lying."

  Mr. Harlow's face burst into a pleased smile. "By George, so he was telling the truth all along! I'm glad to hear it. That was mighty clever of you, Nancy!"

  "Could you hire him back, Mr. Harlow?" Nancy asked hesitantly.

  "My dear, that was my first thought. But I'm afraid it's not possible. You see, Kurt Ellum was the one who fired him, and I'm told he did it in a very harsh, unpleasant way. That's bound to leave bad feelings between them, so they could never work well together again. Also, Ellum is the trainer in charge of my stables, and if I hired Alf Sanchez back now, it might seem to the other hands that I was undercutting his authority."

  He was interrupted by a maid bringing a tea tray out on the patio and setting it on a table between Nancy and Mr. Harlow.

  "Thank you, Mary," he said. "Nancy, would you pour and help yourself to these little sandwiches? I assure you they're too light to spoil your dinner, if that's why you're looking doubtful."

  As Nancy smiled and filled a cup for him, he went on, "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give Alf a good reference, find him a new job, and see that he gets his full back pay."

  "That will be lovely!" Nancy declared. As she bit into a delicious little cucumber sandwich, she went on more seriously, "But there's an unpleasant side to all this, too, Mr. Harlow. Do you realize that if Alf Sanchez was drugged, it must have been done by someone here at Rainbow Ranch?"

  Roger Harlow's face darkened, and for a fleeting moment Nancy feared that he might be about to suffer another attack like the one she had witnessed on Monday morning. But his voice was quiet and steady. "I doubt that very much, Nancy," he replied. "No one here takes any sleeping pills or sedatives, so how could they have drugged Alf's coffee?"

  Privately, Nancy wondered how her host could be so positive that none of his employees used such medication or had any in their possession. Perhaps his attitude was based on wishful thinking. Aloud, she said, "It would be helpful to know for sure. Do you think you could check and find out?"

  "Of course," Mr. Harlow declared as he set down his teacup and reached for a small fruit pastry. "I just hope you can solve this case, Nancy, and discover what's happened to Shooting Star. We seem to be at a dead end."

  Nancy smiled sympathetically. "Don't give up hope. There's something else I'd like to ask, Mr. Harlow. Do you have any enemy or enemies who might want to hurt you by stealing your best horse? Or is there anyone you suspect, no matter how illogical or improbable it may seem?"

  Her host pondered in silence for several moments before replying. "I don't like to point the finger at anyone, you understand, but yes, there are four people who come to mind."

  "Please tell me about them."

  "Earlier this year, we had to fire a stablehand named Lou Yelvey. He was hard to get along with and caused a great deal of trouble in the stables just because he couldn't or wouldn't follow orders. When he was discharged, I'm sure he left with hard feelings."

  Nancy remembered Yelvey's name as the suspect whom the police detective had mentioned earlier.

  Mr. Harlow continued, "Then there was a jockey by the name of Pepper Nash. A year or so ago, he rode one of my horses in a race and totally disregarded his instructions on how to run it. I was angry and felt he had done it deliberately, so I accused him of throwing the race. Oh, not officially, mind you—it was just between us. But word got around, and pretty soon he couldn't get any horses to ride."

  Nancy asked, "Do you know where Pepper Nash is now?"

  "No. Shortly after that, he left town. I've no idea what happened to him." Roger paused unhappily. "I feel I'm getting pretty far out by mentioning these next two people. But anyhow, when I bought Shooting Star as a colt, I was up against a very eager rival bidder, a woman named Velma Deene. She owns an art gallery over in Fernwood." Seeing the expression on Nancy's face, Mr. Harlow broke off to inquire, "Do you know her?"

  "A friend of mine happened to mention her art gallery, that's all. Please go on."

  "Well, to make a long story short, I outbid her. Velma was very angry, especially since she and my daughter Zona had often been rivals at horse shows. Zona usually won, which made Velma quite bitter."

  "I can imagine," Nancy commented. "It must have been very unpleasant. But you mentioned one more suspect."

  "Yes, a sportsman named Judd Bruce." Again Mr. Harlow hesitated uncomfortably. "Judd has a horse entered in the River Heights Handicap. I'm certain that Shooting Star can beat him. So certain, in fact, that fve made a large bet with Bruce on the outcome. So you might say he has a motive for stealing Shooting Star. If my horse doesn't run, his horse probably can'
t be beaten and he won't have to worry about losing all that money he's wagered."

  Glancing at her wristwatch, Nancy exclaimed, "I'd better leave, Mr. Harlow, or I'll be late for dinner! I'll check all those people out and keep you informed. Thank you for the delicious tea.''

  Her host rose and waved good-bye, then went indoors as she walked off down the drive. A moment later, Nancy stopped short, gaping at the windshield of her car.

  There in blood-red crayon was a crude drawing of a horse alongside a skull and crossbones!

  9. Hidden Names

  Nancy stared at the sinister drawing on her windshield while a chilly feeling shot up her spine. Was this a warning not to get mixed up in the mystery of Shooting Star? A threat of harm if she tried to find the stolen racehorse?

  Then another thought occurred to her. From the use of a crayon and the crude way in which the horse was drawn, it might have been done by a child. Could this possibly be Tina's work? Somehow, remembering the little girl's wide-eyed, frightened look, Nancy did not think so.

  In any event, she decided just to drive off and say nothing about the drawing for fear of getting Tina in trouble. To create a fuss over the incident might only make it harder to make friends with the little girl if she were responsible for it.

  Slipping behind the wheel, Nancy started her car and headed down the drive. Moments later, she pulled into the nearest service station to buy gasoline and have the red marks removed.

  While the attendant was checking the oil and cleaning her windshield, Nancy pondered the mystery. Only one thing seemed certain. If Tina had not made the drawing, the crayoned threat was further proof that someone at Rainbow Ranch was involved in the theft of the racehorse.

  As she paid the attendant and drove away, Nancy decided to visit Hugh Morston, whose estate was close to Rainbow Ranch.

  Entering the beautifully landscaped grounds, Nancy saw the stables to the left of an ornate mansion. She could see Mr. Morston in a business suit talking to a groom in the stableyard. Mors ton's car was parked in front of the big house as if he had just arrived home.