The Haunted Showboat Read online

  Nancy, although she really would have preferred continuing her sleuthing, politely expressed her appreciation. She thought it advisable not to antagonize Donna Mae further. Bess said she was eager to see more of the city and eat at another famous restaurant.

  George, for her part, was suspicious of Donna Mae’s motives. Later, as the girls were getting ready for bed, she said, “Nancy, we’d better take your car. This trip to town may be a trick to keep us there so late that we won’t be back in time to go to the Bartolomes’ for dinner.”

  “You could be right, George,” Bess agreed. “But you know I just can’t figure out Donna Mae and the way she acts.”

  George remarked with a great yawn, “Donna Mae just isn’t herself since Alex came into her life. I think it’s a shame!” The girl’s voice rose as she added, “She used to be such a swell person. Now she’s a pain!”

  “S-sh!” Nancy warned. “She may hear you.”

  The following morning Nancy awakened to a sunny day and the twittering chorus of birds. Going to a window, she stood there, breathing in the balmy, fragrant air and admiring the lovely gardens. Pappy Cole, a huge basket over his arm, was cutting flowers near the house.

  As Nancy went into her friends’ room, the aroma of broiling ham and fresh-baked corncakes wafted upstairs. “Get up, you sleepyheads,” she said to Bess and George. “It’s simply heavenly outside! Let’s wear our skirt, blouse, and shorts sets today.”

  “Will do,” George replied, jumping out of bed and making a beeline for the shower.

  “Oh, don’t rush me,” Bess begged from her bed. “It’s too delicious a day to hurry.”

  Nevertheless, the girls were dressed in half an hour and went downstairs. As soon as breakfast was over, the young people met in the driveway. Alex had the station wagon ready and hopped out to assist the passengers.

  “Thank you,” said Nancy, “but Bess and George and I are going in my car. We’ll follow you.”

  A look of annoyance creased the young man’s forehead. “But why?” he asked.

  Bess put on an engaging smile. In a very convincing voice she said with a giggle, “You two sweetie pies ought to be alone.”

  To avoid any further objection, the girls hurried to Nancy’s car. She followed Alex at a distance of about thirty feet all the way to New Orleans. Upon reaching the outskirts, she wondered why he did not go directly into the city. Instead, he turned and took a very circuitous route to reach the sight-seeing area.

  “Nothing special here,” George complained. “Just a lot of old houses on a deserted street.”

  At that moment a small wad of paper fluttered from Alex’s car window. Nancy, wondering whether he had dropped it by accident, decided on a sudden impulse to stop and retrieve the paper. She pulled to the curb and George hopped out to pick it up.

  “This isn’t anything special,” George announced, climbing in and smoothing out the tiny sheet. “Just a funny drawing.”

  The three girls gazed at a maroon-colored rectangle with a gold stripe running through it. There was no writing on the paper.

  Alex had stopped and now backed up to see what was detaining Nancy. She handed the paper to him out her window. “Did you mean to drop this?” she asked.

  “Oh, that!” said Alex. “A kid cousin of mine drew it. I just found it in my pocket. I don’t want it.” He tossed the paper into the street and started off again.

  Once more Nancy followed Alex, but as he turned a corner she suddenly stopped the car. Opening the door, she got out.

  “Quick, George, take the wheel!” she ordered. “I have some sleuthing to do. Meet you at twelve o’clock at Broussard’s restaurant.”

  Mysteriously Nancy dashed back up the street.

  CHAPTER XII

  A Sly Getaway

  “WHAT do you think Nancy is going to do?” Bess asked her cousin, as they drove on.

  “Search me!” George answered. “But you can be sure it has something to do with that wad of paper.”

  “You mean Nancy’s figured out that the drawing on it meant something important? And Alex wasn’t telling the truth when he said it had been drawn by a little cousin of his?”

  “Something of the sort.” George grinned. “I can just see Alex’s face when we get to the parking lot. He’ll be furious.”

  George’s prediction was right. Alex and Donna Mae got out of the station wagon and walked toward the spot where George was parking. Not seeing Nancy, Alex instantly asked where she was.

  “Left us to do some sleuthing,” said George, as she and Bess alighted. “She told us to meet her at Broussard’s at twelve.”

  Alex’s eyes flashed and Donna Mae looked hurt. “I don’t think that’s very nice of Nancy when we planned such a gay sight-seeing trip,” Donna Mae remarked.

  “Well, after all, Nancy was invited down here to solve a mystery,” George defended her friend.

  “I’m going to find her!” Alex said suddenly. He ran to the station wagon, got in, and roared out of the parking lot.

  “And I’m going to follow,” George said to herself. She got behind the wheel of Nancy’s car and sped after the young man.

  Donna Mae and Bess stared after the two cars. “Well, of all the horrid things to do!” Donna Mae cried out pettishly.

  “What difference does it make?” Bess said soothingly. “You and I can have some fun shopping together.”

  This did not appease Donna Mae, however. She insisted upon waiting at the parking lot. But when ten minutes had gone by and the others had not returned, she finally consented to leaving.

  In the meantime, Nancy had run back to the spot where Alex had thrown the drawing into the street. Instinct urged her to find out more about the piece of paper.

  To Nancy’s astonishment, the paper was gone!

  “And there is no street cleaner or anyone else in sight,” Nancy murmured to herself.

  Her latest suspicion that Alex was not entirely trustworthy instantly became stronger. It seemed as if the circuitous route into town might have had a real purpose behind it. Had Alex, by prearrangement, deliberately dropped the paper for someone to pick up?

  Her mind racing, Nancy wondered if the paper might have been a signal, perhaps to a person in a house nearby.

  “Maybe I’m being watched myself,” Nancy thought, and she was determined to find out what she could.

  Standing exactly where the paper had been dropped, she studied the two facing houses on opposite sides of the street. Both were old-fashioned but well kept. Neither gave any outward indication of mysterious goings-on.

  As Nancy stood reflecting what to do next, a young colored woman, with a market basket over her arm, came from one of the houses. Nancy stepped up to her and smiled.

  “Would you mind answering a question?” she asked. “I’m a stranger in town—here for the Mardi Gras. This part of your city is quite unfamiliar to me and I’m looking for someone. Do you mind telling me who lives in the house where you work?”

  The pretty young woman chuckled. “One of the finest families in New Orleans lives here. And this street used to be a nice quiet one. But now it’s noisy and all on account of the people from New York who live across the street.”

  Instantly Nancy was interested. “A family from New York, you say?”

  “Not a family,” the girl replied. “It’s a boardinghouse run by a woman who takes tourists sent by a New York travel agency. I shouldn’t gossip about our neighbors, but they’re not the kind of folks we’re used to around here. They’re loud and commonlike.”

  Nancy expressed sympathy, then thanked the girl for the information.

  “You’re welcome,” said the young woman and walked away.

  “Tourists from New York,” Nancy repeated to herself. “Alex is from New York.”

  Then another thought struck her. The car thief from the North might stay in this kind of place! Confused but eager to find out what she could, Nancy, on a hunch, opened the side gate of the property and hurried to the rear of the
yard.

  Several cars were parked there and Nancy went from one to another. Suddenly her heart began to beat faster. Near the side fence and backed against a hedge that separated the property from the house beside it stood a black convertible. It had black-and-red seat cushions!

  Nancy excitedly opened the door to look at the carpet. Perhaps she could find out if it also was torn as hers had been!

  Before she had a chance to look, the kitchen door of the house opened. A slovenly-looking woman, with unkempt hair, rushed outside and waved her fists at Nancy.

  “What are you doing on my property!” she cried out. “I’ll have the police after you!”

  Nancy quickly closed the car door. She memorized the number of the Louisiana license plate on it and said sweetly, “I’m looking for someone who has a car just like this. Would you mind telling me who owns this one?”

  The woman did not reply to Nancy’s question. Instead, she gave the young sleuth a tongue-lashing about people who pried, and ordered her to leave the yard at once.

  “Sorry,” said Nancy. “I’ll go.”

  As she walked toward the street, the young detective glanced from window to window for any sign of the car thief but she saw no one.

  “Nancy!” a voice called from the sidewalk. Turning, Nancy was surprised to see George and Alex standing there.

  The young man scowled. “What are you going to do next,” he chided her.

  “Get the police,” Nancy replied.

  “The police!” Alex replied in astonishment.

  “What’s up?” George wanted to know.

  Nancy quickly explained about finding the car.

  “We’ll all go to the police station,” Alex announced, adding that he would do all he could to help her.

  “Suppose you and George go,” Nancy proposed. “If the man who stole my car is in this house, he may try to get away. I’ll stay here and watch.”

  Alex hesitated, obviously reluctant to accept the suggestion, but finally remarked, “I suppose you’ll be all right alone,” and drove off with George in the station wagon.

  Nancy went to sit in her own car and wait. Her eyes did not leave the house. Presently Alex and George returned in the station wagon. Behind them was a police car with two officers. While one of them remained on the sidewalk, the other hurried to the rear of the house with Nancy and her friends.

  The black car was gone!

  It was clear what had happened. The convertible had been backed through the hedge and driven out the adjoining property to the street beyond. Nancy berated herself for not having prevented the escape.

  “Did you notice the license number?” the officer asked.

  Nancy gave it to him, but said, “If the person who drove the car away is the same one who stole it in River Heights, he’ll substitute other license plates at once.”

  “You’re no doubt right,” the policeman agreed. “I’ll alert headquarters immediately.”

  The group returned to the sidewalk and the information was relayed to headquarters. Then one of the officers went with Nancy to interview the woman in the house.

  When she answered the bell, the boardinghouse owner glared at Nancy. “You back?”

  “We’d like to ask you a few questions,” the officer said, showing his identification. “Who owns the car that was driven away through the hedge?”

  “Nobody I know,” the woman answered. “Tourist agency sent him here. Said his name was John Lane and he was from New York City. I don’t know anything about him. Why are you asking all this?”

  “This young lady here thinks the man was driving a stolen car,” the officer explained. “It’s a serious charge, and if you’re keeping back any information about your boarders, you may find yourself in difficulty with the police.”

  Hearing this, the woman lost her bravado. Over and over she repeated that she knew nothing about the man. Nancy asked her if she could give them a description of Mr. Lane. When this had been done, Nancy said:

  “The description fits the man who stole my convertible!”

  “I’m sure Mr. Lane won’t come back,” the boardinghouse mistress said. “But if he does, I’ll let you know.”

  As the policeman went down the steps with Nancy, he assured her that the police would do everything in their power to track down the thief. Nancy and George followed Alex to the parking lot and once more they pulled their automobiles into position.

  Since Donna Mae and Bess had left, Alex offered to show the other girls something of the newer part of New Orleans. He pointed out Canal Street, one of the widest thoroughfares in the world. He said that originally there had been a canal in the center of it which had been used to drain off excessive rain water.

  Many people were walking on the street and along the adjoining side streets. Alex explained that thousands of tourists came from all parts of the country to help celebrate the Mardi Gras.

  “The parades always disband on Canal Street,” he told the girls.

  At twelve o’clock they went to Broussard’s restaurant. Donna Mae and Bess were waiting for them and insisted upon a full explanation of where they had been.

  When Donna Mae heard the story, she remarked, “What a shame! I’m sorry you had bad luck not finding out about your car, Nancy. But why bother about it? Goodness, I wouldn’t want to ride in a car that had been driven by such an awful man.” Then she lapsed into silence.

  As the group began to eat, Bess told of buying several attractive souvenirs to take home. “Mostly pralines and pecan nougat,” she confessed. “But I did get some lovely prints of New Orleans.”

  Donna Mae remained very quiet. What little she said seemed to be forced. But as the dessert was served, she suddenly became animated.

  “I’ve just had the most wonderful idea,” she announced. “I’m going to invite Ned Nickerson, Burt Eddleton, and Dave Evans down for the Mardi Gras!”

  Nancy smiled. “That’s very sweet of you, Donna Mae, and of course we’d love to see the boys. But I doubt that they could take the time away from college.”

  A gleam came into Donna Mae’s eyes. She said meaningly, “They won’t dare refuse!”

  CHAPTER XIII

  Mississippi Mishap

  THE IMPLIED threat in Donna Mae’s remark angered Nancy, Bess, and George. All of them were sure what the girl had in mind: She did not want either Alex or Charles to make any dates with Nancy and her friends. She was going to make the boys from Emerson College so jealous they would not dare refuse to come to New Orleans!

  None of the three girls expressed their thoughts aloud, however. Instead, Bess said sweetly, “Oh, I’d adore to see Dave Evans!”

  “There’s no one I’d rather date than Burt Eddleton,” George spoke up quickly.

  Nancy added, “I’m sure the boys would have a wonderful time here if they can come. And I must admit that I prefer Ned to any other escort.”

  George grinned. “I’ll tell you one thing, Donna Mae. Burt will never consent to putting on the costume of a fairy prince for your ball!”

  Her remark eased the tension and everyone laughed.

  The subject was dropped when Alex announced, “Now for some more sight-seeing. I’ve rented a launch and we’ll show you girls the river.”

  “That sounds alluring,” Bess commented. “The Mississippi is such a romantic river.”

  “It’s more than that,” Alex told her. “It’s one of the busiest.”

  They drove through several narrow streets until they came to the waterfront, lined with docks and ships at anchor. Donna Mae said it was one of the most important shipping points in the world.

  “Millions of tons of cargo go through here every year. One thing is of particular interest. The New Orleans port is known as a foreign trade zone. This means that foreign vessels coming in here can unload and have the cargo transferred to another ship going out of the United States without payment of customs duty.”

  By this time, they had reached the dock where the rented launch was tied up. It wa
s a trim craft with a small cabin. The group eagerly climbed aboard and Alex took the wheel.

  Soon the launch was out in the middle of the stream. The sight-seers looked up and down the river at the great docks, where vessels of various sizes and kinds were moored.

  “See that white boat over there?” Donna Mae pointed. “That’s a banana boat. It’s painted white so the sun will be reflected. In this way the hold where the fruit is stored remains cool.”

  They passed a small puffing tug which was pushing a string of cargo boats. George remarked that the little tugs must have tremendous power.

  “They do,” said Alex. “And of course the flowing river helps a little. It’s only when the tugs go upstream that they have to work hard.”

  Part of the tour led past huge grain elevators. Alex remarked, “Those long conveyors you see can load eighteen thousand bushels an hour onto the ships.”

  “Yes,” Donna said, and added, “The grain barges can hold as much as three thousand bushels!”

  “I suppose,” said George, “that the bananas are incoming cargo and the grain is outgoing.”

  “That’s right,” Donna Mae replied. “The grain goes to countries in many parts of the world.”

  The New Orleans girl now proudly said that the United States engineers had conquered the problem of floods for the city.

  “It used to be perfectly frightening when the old river overflowed and the levees broke,” she said. “When the Mississippi goes on a rampage now, some of the water is pumped into Lake Pontchartrain miles above here. The excess is carried through steel-reinforced concrete tunnels to a point fifteen miles below the city. You wouldn’t believe it, but there are a thousand miles of pipe!”

  Presently Alex turned upstream and Donna Mae said she wanted the girls to see some of the plantation homes along the upper river. Soon they left the area of traffic. Only now and then they passed a boat.

  “What a divine place to live!” Bess remarked, gazing at pecan orchards framing a lovely old house.

  Presently Nancy glanced at her watch. “I think we’d better turn back now,” she suggested, thinking of the girls’ dinner engagement at the Bartolomes. “It’s getting late.”