Jane Carter Historical Cozies: Omnibus Edition (Six Mystery Novels)

by Alice Simpson

  “What do you think of this route, Joe?” he asked.

  “Too risky,” the other muttered. “Once we start, we got to make a quick shot to the sea.”

  “Any way we take we might run into trouble. Y’know, I wish we had never agreed to do the job.”

  “You and me both!”

  “Dietz ain’t to be trusted,” the heavy-set man said, and his shaggy eyebrows drew together in a scowl. “He’s thinking first and last of his own skin. We’ve got to watch him.”

  “And the girl, too. She’s a dumb one and plenty apt to talk if the going gets rough.”

  I lost the thread of the conversation when Jack spoke to me.

  “We couldn’t have picked a worse place,” he complained. “Look at all the breakfast egg on the tablecloth. I’m in favor of walking out, even now.”

  “I’m not,” I said.

  “What’s got into you anyway? You’re acting mighty funny.”

  “Notice those two men at the last table.”

  “What about them? I didn’t like the way they were giving you the eye, but other than that?”

  “See that heavy-set fellow with the tattooed anchor on his arm? Well, I think he is the same boatman who cruised near the Furstenberg estate yesterday afternoon.”

  “He might well be, but that would hardly be surprising. The Grassy is only a stone’s throw away. And this place seems to be frequented by rivermen.”

  I leaned across the table to whisper in Jack’s ear.

  “You didn’t hear what they were saying? Listen!”

  It gave me a tingly sensation to lean in so close to him, and I pulled back quickly.

  Jack immediately fell silent, but the two men had lowered their voices so that only an occasional word could be distinguished.

  “What were they saying, anyway?” Jack whispered.

  Before I could answer, the proprietor came from the kitchen bearing two plates of food which he set down before us. The sandwiches were covered with a dark brown, watery gravy, the potatoes bore a heavy coating of grease, and the coffee looked like last-week’s strained dishwater.

  “Want anything else?”

  “That’s all,” Jack said. “In fact, it’s too much,” he muttered after the man had gone out of earshot.

  The two men at the next table stood up, paid their bill, and left the restaurant.

  “Let’s leave, too,” I said. “I should like to see where they go.”

  Jack pushed his plate aside.

  “Suits me,” he agreed. “Even my cast-iron stomach can’t wrestle with such food as this.”

  Jack paid at the cash register, and we went out into the night. I looked about for the two men and saw them walking toward the river.

  “Hold on,” said Jack, as I started to follow. “Tell me what all the excitement is about.”

  I repeated the conversation that I had overheard.

  “They’re tough-looking customer all right,” Jack admitted. “Likely as not mixed up in some dirty business. But to say they’re involved in the Furstenberg affair—”

  “Oh, Jack,” I broke in impatiently, “we’ll never learn anything if we take that attitude. We must run down every possible clue. Please, let’s see if they go down to the river.”

  “I ought to be getting back to the office,” Jack reminded me. “If I miss the last edition, Dewitt will have my head on a platter.”

  “It will only take a minute,” I stubbornly insisted. “If you won’t come with me, then I’m going alone!”

  I started away, and Jack had no choice but to follow. A narrow, well-trodden path led down a steep slope toward the river. Long before we came within sight of the Grassy, we could hear the croak of bullfrogs and feel the damp, night mists enveloping us like a cloak.

  Drawing closer to the two men, we slackened our pace and moved with greater care. We could hear them clearly now, but their conversation was a disappointment. They talked only of the weather.

  When they reached the banks of the river, the two men boarded a sturdy cabin cruiser which had been moored to a sagging dock.

  “It’s the very same boat,” I whispered to Jack. “I knew I wasn’t mistaken.”

  “Even so, what does that prove? It’s no crime to run a motorboat near the Furstenberg estate. The river is free.”

  “But you must admit there is other evidence. Why can’t we follow them? We might learn something important.”

  “We’re not going off on any wild goose chase tonight,” Jack said. “Come on, it’s home for us before your father sends a police squad to search for his missing daughter.”

  “You’re losing a golden opportunity, Jack Bancroft.”

  “Listen, by the time we located a boat, those men would be ten miles from here. They’re leaving now. Use your head.”

  “Oh, all right,” I gave in. “We’ll go home, but I’ll bet you’ll be sorry, later on.”

  I waited until the cruiser was lost to view in the darkness, and then allowed Jack to drag me back up the steep path.

  “At least let’s try to find out who the men are,” I said as we came near the cafe. “The restaurant owner might know.”

  More to please me than for any other reason, Jack said that he would inquire. He re-entered the cafe, returning in a few minutes to report that the proprietor had never seen either of the men before.

  “And now let’s be traveling,” he urged. “We’ve killed enough time here.”

  During the remainder of the ride back to Greenville, I had little to say.

  When we arrived home, I said to Jack, “Won’t you come in? Dad may wish to talk with you about the case.”

  “I might stop a minute. I have a question or two to ask him.”

  The door of the house swung open as we crossed the front porch. My father stood framed in the bright electric light, a tall, imposing figure.

  “That you, Jane?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “I’m glad you’re home safe,” he said, not trying to hide his relief. “Mrs. Timms and I have both been worried. It’s going on nine o’clock.”

  “So late? Didn’t Florence telephone you?”

  “Yes, she said you had gone on to the Furstenberg estate. Knowing you, I worried all the more. What mischief did you get into this time, Jane?”

  “None. Jack took care of that!”

  Dad held the door open for us to pass through.

  “Have you had your dinners?” he asked.

  “We stopped at a roadside cafe, Dad. But the food was horrible. We didn’t even try to eat it.”

  “Mrs. Timms can find something for you, I’m sure. She’s upstairs.”

  “Don’t call her just yet,” I said. “First, we want to tell you what we’ve learned.”

  My father listened attentively as I gave a detailed account of my visit to the estate, of finding the silk hat, and finally of our encounter with the two boatmen at the river cafe.

  “I might have learned a lot more if only Jack hadn’t played grandmother,” I said. “He refused to follow the boat down the river—said it would only be a wild goose chase.”

  “Jack, I’m glad you had willpower enough to overrule her,” Dad said. “The possibility of those men having any connection with the Atwood case seems very unlikely to me.”

  “Dad, you should have heard what they were saying! The one man drew a design on the tablecloth and asked his companion what he thought of the route. They talked about a quick get-away to the sea.”

  “The men may have been fugitives,” my father said. “But even that isn’t very likely.”

  “They spoke of being uneasy about a certain job they had agreed to do,” I went on. “They mentioned a girl and said that a fellow named Dietz would bear watching.”

  My father leaned forward in his chair.

  “Dietz?” he questioned. “Are you certain that was the name?”

  “Yes, I heard it clearly.”

  “I don’t see how there could be any connection,” Dad said. “And yet—�
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  “Where did you hear the name before, Dad?”

  “Well, DeWitt has been digging up all the facts he can about James Furstenberg. As it happens, the man once had a business associate named Aaron Dietz who was dismissed because of alleged dishonesty.”

  “Then there must be a relationship!” I said. I whirled around to face Jack. “You see, Mr. Jack Bancroft, my theory wasn’t so crazy after all!”

  CHAPTER 14

  Florence was washing the breakfast dishes when I walked boldly in at the back door of the Radcliff residence.

  “Don’t you ever answer doorbells, Flo?” I demanded. “I stood around front for at least ten minutes, ringing and ringing.”

  “Hello, Jane. I didn’t hear you at all,” Florence said. “The radio is on too loud. I see you reached home safely last night.”

  I picked up a towel and began to dry the dripping plates resting on the drain-board.

  “Oh, yes, and did I have a day!”

  “What happened after you left Andover?”

  “It’s a long story, so I’ll begin at the end. Last night, as I was coming home with Jack, we stopped at a cafe along the river. Guess who we saw!”

  “Knowing your luck, I’d say Charlie Chaplin, or maybe the Queen of England.”

  “This particular cafe wasn’t quite their speed, Flo. Jack and I saw that same boatman I told you about!”

  “The fellow you saw cruising about the Furstenberg estate? What’s so remarkable about that?”

  “It just happens that I’ve dug up other evidence to show he may know something about Thomas Atwood’s disappearance,” I said. “Jack and I overheard a conversation. It seems this man and a companion of his are mixed up with another fellow named Aaron Dietz.”

  “Which doesn’t make sense to me,” Flo said, scrubbing hard at a sticky pan.

  “Aaron Dietz was a former associate of James Furstenberg. Dad said he probably knew more about the Furstenberg financial affairs than any other person. Dad assigned Jack to try to pick up the trail today. He’s chartered a motorboat and will patrol the river.”

  “If you don’t mind,” said Florence. “I’d like to hear the first part of the story, now. Then I might understand what this is all about.”

  I told Flo most of what had happened since I’d had taken leave of her at the clubhouse in Andover—omitting any mention of the alligator.

  “Which brings me to the point of my visit,” I ended my tale. “How about going out there with me this morning?”

  “To the Furstenberg estate?”

  “Yes, we may not be able to get across the river, but I mean to try.”

  “You know I’m wild to visit the place, Jane!”

  “How soon can you start?”

  “Just as soon as these stupid dishes are done. And I ought to change my dress.”

  “Wear something dark which won’t attract attention in the bushes,” I advised. “Now get to working on yourself while I finish the dishes.”

  Florence dropped the dishcloth and hurried upstairs. When she returned ten minutes later, I was swishing the last of the soapsuds down the sink drain. Another five minutes and we were aboard Bouncing Betsy, speeding toward Sunnydale.

  The sun rode high in the sky by the time we came within view of the drawbridge. A press car from The Times was parked at the end of the road, so I drew up some distance away. I could see two reporters talking with the old watchman.

  “Evidently, they’re having no luck in getting over to the estate,” I said to Flo.

  “Then what about us?”

  “Oh, we have our own private taxi service,” I said. “At least, I hope so.”

  We took a circuitous route to the river’s edge to elude the notice of the bridge-keeper.

  Far up the stream, I saw the familiar rowboat drifting with the current. I signaled to the small boy, who seized his oars and rowed toward shore.

  “I was here at eight o’clock, just as you said,” he declared. “That fellow up there by the bridge offered me a fifty-cents to take him across the river. I turned him down.”

  “Good,” I said.

  “Do you want to go across the river now?” the boy asked.

  “Yes, please.” I stepped into the boat and made room for Florence. “Keep close to the bank until we are around the bend. Then I’ll show you where to land.”

  “I guess you’re afraid someone will see you,” the boy commented.

  “Not exactly afraid,” I said. “But this way will be best.”

  The boat moved quietly along the high bank, well out of sight of those who stood by the drawbridge.

  “The cops were here this morning,” volunteered the boy as he pulled at the oars.

  “You saw them visit the estate?” I asked.

  “Sure, there were four of ’em. They drove up in a police car, and they made old Thorndyke let the bridge down, so they could go across.”

  “Are the policemen at the estate now?”

  “No, they left again a while back. What do you suppose they wanted over there?”

  “Well, now, I couldn’t guess,” I said. “Like as not they only wished to ask a few questions. Are the Furstenbergs at home?”

  “I saw Mrs. Furstenberg drive away right after the police left.”

  “And her daughter?”

  “I guess she must be still there. Anyway, she wasn’t in the car.”

  The boat rounded the bend, and I pointed out a place on the opposite shore where I wished to land.

  “Shall I wait for you?” the boy asked as we stepped out of the rowboat.

  “Yes, but not here,” I said. “You might row back to the opposite shore and keep watch from there. We ought to be ready to leave within at least an hour.”

  From where we’d landed, I could see the roof top of the Furstenberg house towering above the tall trees, but as we plunged into the bushes which grew thickly along the shore, we lost sight of it entirely.

  “I hope,” said Florence, “that you know where you are going. It would be easy to lose one’s self in this jungle.”

  “Oh, I have my directions straight. We should come out near the lily pool at any minute.”

  “What do you hope to gain by coming here, Jane?”

  “I thought I would try to talk with Miss Furstenberg again. There’s an important question I forgot to ask her yesterday. And I wanted to show you the estate, especially the lily pond.”

  “Is there anything unusual about it?”

  “I’ll let you be the judge,” I answered. “We’re almost there, now.”

  We came to a path which made walking much easier. I went ahead of Flo but suddenly halted in the middle of the pathway.

  “See what is ahead, Flo! I never saw that thing before.”

  I stepped to one side so that Florence might see the tall stone tower which loomed up against a background of scarlet maples.

  “How curious!” Flo said.

  “This isn’t the only odd thing I’ve found on the estate.”

  “What purpose could the tower have?”

  “Decoration, perhaps,” I said, moving forward again. “Or it might have been built for a prison.”

  “Listen, you have too many different theories about Thomas Atwood,” said Florence. “Why don’t you get one and stick to it?”

  “My mind is always open to new possibilities and impressions.”

  “I’ll say it is,” agreed Florence. “I suppose you think Mrs. Furstenberg is keeping young Atwood a prisoner in yonder tower?”

  “Well, no, but you must admit it would make a lovely tale. So romantic.”

  “Are you trying to kid me?” Florence demanded.

  I stared up at the tower which rose about twelve feet above the forest floor. Like every other building on the estate, it had been built to resist the ages. High above our heads was a circular window cut in the massive wall. The only way in was a heavy oak door. I turned the knob, then pressed my shoulder against the door and pushed with all my might.


  “Locked!”

  “Then we won’t learn what is inside, after all.”

  “Yes, we will,” I said. “You lift me up, and I’ll peep in the window.”

  “You only look thin and elegant,” complained Florence. “You actually weigh a ton. Why am I always the one doing the lifting?”

  Flo huffed and complained, but she hoisted me up as high as she could.

  “Look fast,” she panted. “What do you see?”

  “Not much of anything.”

  “I can’t hold you forever,” Florence said, and released her hold. “Didn’t you see anything at all?”

  “Just a lot of machinery.”

  “Tools, you mean?”

  “No, an electric motor and something which looked like it might be a pump. Oh, I get it now!”

  “Get what?” demanded Florence.

  “The purpose of this tower. It must be used as a pump house. I wondered how the lily pool was ever drained, and this must be the answer. Also, Cybil Furstenberg said something about the pool being heated, so this must be where they keep the boiler.”

  “You didn’t see any prisoners chained inside?” Florence teased. “Why would they want to heat a lily pond?”

  “Not a single prisoner,” I said, ignoring Flo’s question about the heater. “Well, let’s be getting on to the lily pond. It must be somewhere close.”

  We continued down the path until we reached the clearing.

  “Here we are,” I said. “What do you think of it?”

  “I don’t see anything so remarkable about it, Jane.”

  “This was the place where I found the wedding ring. And there were footprints indicating that a struggle probably took place.”

  “I read all that in the paper,” Florence said. “From the hints you’ve been passing out, I thought you brought me here to show me something mysterious.”

  “Go close to the pool.”

  “What for, Jane? You want to push me in?”

  “Oh, you’re too suspicious! Go on and look.”

  Florence went to the edge of the pool and peered down over the high concrete sides and into the water.