Danger on Parade

by Carolyn Keene

  “Bess doesn’t even work for the store. She wouldn’t have signed for them,” Nancy said before Bess could answer. “Plus, we were in your office together. If anyone had asked her to sign for something, I would have seen it.” First the explosion, and now this, she thought. Something about the whole thing smelled like a setup.

  “Nancy’s right,” Bess said, giving Nancy a grateful look for coming to her defense.

  Had someone tricked Bess into signing for the costumes? Nancy wondered. Or had they forged her name? “Bess, let’s compare your signature with the one on the receipt,” she suggested.

  Jill asked the man behind the counter for a pen and a piece of paper, and Bess wrote out her full name. The signatures matched exactly.

  “Well, that’s just great,” Jill muttered angrily. Turning away from Bess, she stormed to the other side of the shop. “I don’t care who signed for them, I still need those costumes!” she said.

  “They were delivered to you,” the shopkeeper shot back, following her. “Either you return them, or you pay me for them!”

  While the two argued, Nancy turned back to Bess. “Someone may have tricked you into signing that receipt,” Nancy said in a low voice. “Think hard, Bess. Have you signed anything since we’ve been in New York?”

  Bess closed her eyes, her brow furrowed in concentration. “The only thing I’ve signed was the charge receipt for the scarf I bought at Mitchell’s yesterday evening when I was with Neil and Greg, on our way over to Morelli’s,” she said.

  “Are you sure you signed a charge receipt and not something else?” Nancy asked.

  Bess bit her lip. “We were in such a hurry, and I was talking to Greg. I just signed what was put in front of me,” she said. “I guess it could have been anything.”

  “Such as the delivery receipt for the costumes,” Nancy suggested. She tried to think of who could have set up Bess. Louis Clark, her only suspect for the explosion and break-in, would hardly have been able to pull off the ruse without being noticed. Plus, he didn’t even know Bess. On the other hand, maybe he was working with a Mitchell’s employee who had seen Bess at the warehouse or the offices.

  “Look, why don’t you two go sightseeing this afternoon,” Jill said, breaking into Nancy’s thoughts. “I have to go make sure the costumes aren’t anywhere in the store. Then I have to call around to see if someone—anyone—can deliver new costumes to us overnight.” Before Nancy could offer to help, Jill stormed out of the shop.

  “It’s not too late to fly home and celebrate Thanksgiving in River Heights,” Bess said, staring after Jill’s retreating form. “Of course, now that I’m a wanted criminal, I can’t even leave the state.”

  Nancy put a comforting arm around Bess’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of this,” she said. “We have to do all we can to find out who set you up.”

  “We could talk to the salespeople at Mitchell’s scarf counter,” Bess suggested, her expression brightening. “I wish I had the receipt, but I think it’s at your aunt’s.”

  “Well, We’re meeting Aunt Eloise for tea later, right? I’ll call her and ask her to bring the charge receipt. And I’d like to talk to the person from here who delivered the costumes,” Nancy added. “Maybe he or she can describe the person who really accepted the delivery.”

  • • •

  “Which salesperson helped you that night?” Nancy asked as she and Bess paused at the edge of the U-shaped scarf counter at Mitchell’s Department Store.

  Bess stared at the two women who were waiting on customers. “I don’t remember,” she said glumly. “It could have been anyone.”

  Nancy hoped they would have more luck here than they had had talking to the delivery boy from Disguise, Inc. He had returned to the store while the girls were there, but he hadn’t been able to offer much information. There had been so many deliveries the day before that he couldn’t even remember whether a man or a woman had signed for the costumes at Mitchell’s. He didn’t have any idea what the person looked like.

  “Can I help you?” An elegantly dressed woman came over to Nancy and Bess.

  “My friend here bought a scarf last night,” Nancy said. “I was wondering if we could talk to the salespeople who were working then or see your record of the purchase.”

  The young woman looked curiously at Bess. “I was working last night,” she said. “The other salesperson, Diana, who was working with me has the day off. Was it cash or charge?”

  “Charge,” Bess answered.

  “I’ll be right back,” the saleswoman said, leaving the counter and heading toward the back of the store. She returned a few minutes later with a metal file box. “What’s the name?” she inquired.

  Bess told her, and the woman quickly flipped through the file. “Here we are, one silk scarf,” she announced, pulling out a yellow paper. “Is there a problem?”

  “We just wanted to make sure it was signed,” Nancy said vaguely. She was disappointed to see that Bess’s signature appeared in the right spot.

  “You should have been given the top copy of this, which has your original signature on it,” the saleswoman went on to explain. “The sheet we keep is a carbon copy. Everything looks okay, except— Hmm, that’s strange.”

  “What?” Bess asked, leaning forward.

  The woman pointed to a box on the receipt labeled Sales Clerk. It was blank. “No one initialed this, which means that whoever rang up the sale won’t get a commission. I can’t imagine that either Diana or I would forget to fill that in. We were awfully busy last night, but still . . .”

  But someone who wanted to set Bess up wouldn’t have initialed it, Nancy thought. After thanking the saleswoman for her help, Nancy started to leave the area. Bess lingered behind, a sober expression on her face.

  “What is it, Bess?” Nancy asked.

  Bess blinked, then looked at Nancy. “I was just thinking about Jules. Do you think he saw something before he was hurt in the explosion?” she asked. “I mean, maybe he’s feeling well enough today to talk to us.”

  “Great idea, Bess!” Nancy said. “Let’s find out!”

  • • •

  “Wow, this building is beautiful,” Bess said a short while later, staring up at a building with an impressive carved stone facade.

  Bonnie, Jill’s assistant, had told the girls that Jules had been released from the hospital that morning and was recuperating at his family’s apartment. When Nancy called him there, he readily agreed to talk to them. They immediately hopped into a taxi, which had just let them off in front of his building on Riverside Drive, on the Upper West Side. Across the drive a park stretched along the Hudson River. Nancy could see the George Washington Bridge in the distance, stretching across the river to New Jersey. A cold wind whipped up from the river, causing Nancy to pull her coat more tightly around her.

  She and Bess hurried into the lobby and gave the uniformed doorman their names, saying that they were there to visit Jules Langley. After announcing the two visitors over the intercom, he directed them to the penthouse. When the girls stepped out of the elevator on the top floor, Jules was waiting in the open doorway.

  “Hi, Nancy, Bess,” he greeted them with a smile. “Come on in.” His arm was in a sling, and there were some scratches and a dark bruise on his forehead. Still, he seemed to be in good spirits.

  He led them through a spacious entry hall and on the living room, which was filled with antique furniture, a large oriental rug, and oil paintings. A large picture window provided a spectacular view of the Hudson River.

  “How are you, Jules?” Nancy asked, sitting in a high-backed chair, while Jules and Bess settled on the couch.

  “I’m a little bruised but basically okay,” he replied. “Jill told me that the explosion was sabotage,” he added, frowning. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

  “Yes,” Nancy said. “We’re trying to find out who’s responsible. Did you see anything unusual before the blast?”

  “Not th
at I remember,” he replied. “After I dropped you two at Jill’s office, I went to the parade studio and watched them unwrap a few more balloons. The next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital.”

  A look of disappointment crossed Bess’s face. “Is there anyone you can think of who might be trying to sabotage the parade?” Bess asked Jules.

  Jules looked down, and the color drained from his face.

  “Jules, what is it?” Nancy asked. “If you know something about the sabotage, you’ve got to tell us. It could save the parade.”

  He hesitated a moment before speaking. “My father is a . . . difficult man,” he began. “When he first bought the store, over a year ago, he actually fired my two brothers—his own sons—when they voted against him in a board meeting.”

  Nancy couldn’t imagine her own father doing something like that. It sounded to her as though Howard Langley was more than just difficult.

  Jules raked a hand through his curly blond hair. “Dad didn’t want to have the Thanksgiving Day parade. It costs so much money, and the store isn’t doing very well,” he went on. “About eight months ago, when we were launching our new cosmetics line, I made a deal with him. Dad agreed that if the new cosmetics brought in enough money, we’d go ahead with the parade.”

  “The line was a success, right?” Bess guessed.

  “Right,” Jules answered proudly. “Dad gave the go-ahead for the parade. But now we’re launching our signature perfume and cologne, and we’ve spent hundreds of thousands of dollars in advertising and sample costs. Plus we’ve been laying out money left and right for the parade. Basically, we’ve drained the store’s cash reserves, and my father’s not happy, to say the least.”

  Nancy and Bess exchanged a silent look as Jules paused and shifted on the couch.

  “We’re committed to having the parade this year, but next year is a different story,” Jules continued. He looked straight at Nancy, a troubled look in his eyes.

  “I think my father is trying to ruin the Thanksgiving parade so that no one will ever want to have it again!”

  Chapter

  Seven

  WHAT!” BESS EXCLAIMED. She looked at Jules as if he had lost his mind. “Do you really think he would wreck his own store’s parade?”

  Jules let out a long breath. “Maybe I’m wrong—I hope I am. But I know how strongly my father opposes the parade. And with all the store’s money troubles . . .”

  Nancy was as surprised as Bess. “What about the explosion?” she asked Jules. “People were hurt.”

  “Including me.” Jules shook his head ruefully. “Dad had no way of knowing I would be there when it went off. In fact, I’m convinced that the timer was set incorrectly. My father probably meant for it to go off at night, when no one was there. He would never hurt anyone intentionally,” he said firmly.

  There was a strange logic to Jules’s explanation, Nancy realized. But there were still so many unanswered questions. Briefly she explained to Jules that she was a private detective, then said, “Jules, I’d like to talk to your father. That might help me get to the bottom of this.”

  After a long pause, Jules said, “Okay. But please, Dad can’t know I told you any of this. I’ll call and tell him you’re a friend of mine who’s interested in the retail industry. Otherwise, you’ll have a hard time getting in to see him.”

  Nancy thanked him, and she and Bess stood up to leave.

  It was almost four o’clock by the time the girls got off the subway near Mitchell’s. Bess hesitated outside the revolving doors leading into the store.

  “I think I’ll go to Jill’s office and try to help locate the missing costumes,” she said. “I know she thinks I’m the leading suspect, but maybe helping out will prove to her that I wasn’t responsible for any of the sabotage. I want her to know that I have nothing to hide.”

  Nancy gave her friend an encouraging smile. “That sounds like a good idea. I’ll meet you in Jill’s office after I talk to Mr. Langley.”

  • • •

  “Ms. Drew?”

  Nancy looked up from the newsmagazine she had been flipping through in the ninth floor reception area outside Howard Langley’s office. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Langley will see you now,” said the receptionist, a tall woman with short salt-and-pepper hair.

  Nancy put down the magazine and followed the woman down a hall, through two wooden doors, and into a huge office with windows along two walls. A gray-haired man in his sixties stood up from behind a long mahogany desk. He had the same blue eyes and athletic frame as Jules, Nancy noticed. Mr. Langley was much more conservatively dressed, however, in a charcoal gray suit and striped tie.

  “Hello, Nancy,” Mr. Langley greeted her. “I understand you have an interest in the retail industry.”

  “Yes,” she replied, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. “I’m especially interested in the Thanksgiving parade. I’ve been talking to Jill Johnston, and—”

  “I don’t want to talk about that parade,” Mr. Langley interrupted, frowning.

  Nancy could tell she had hit a nerve. “But it’s really the thing that sets Mitchell’s apart from your competition, don’t you think?” she pressed.

  Sitting behind the large desk, Mr. Langley shot her a stern gaze. “The vultures are waiting for me to collapse so they can come in and start picking apart my empire. Because of this parade, they just might get what they want.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Since you spoke to Jill Johnston, you might already know that someone is apparently trying to sabotage the parade. If you ask me, whoever’s behind it is doing Mitchell’s a favor. Now maybe the other board members will realize what a mistake the parade is to begin with!”

  Nancy could hardly believe her ears. Everything Howard Langley was saying backed up Jules’s theory. She still didn’t know how Louis Clark’s handkerchief fit into the sabotage, but perhaps Mr. Langley could provide some clue.

  “Do you think it’s possible that Louis Clark is behind the sabotage?” Nancy asked.

  “I doubt it,” Mr. Langley said without hesitation. “That’s a little drastic, even for Louis.”

  But was it too drastic for Mr. Langley himself? Nancy decided to try and shock him into revealing something about the sabotage. “Some people think that the person trying to sabotage the parade works here in the store,” she said slowly. “It might even be someone in upper management. Would you agree with that?”

  Mr. Langley’s expression darkened, and he looked sharply at Nancy. “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, young lady, but I think it’s time for you to leave.” He got up from behind his desk, went to the door, and opened it.

  Great, now you’ve completely alienated him, Nancy chastised herself. It was too late to take back what she had said, however, so she simply thanked him for his time and left.

  As she rode the elevator down to the eighth floor, where Jill’s office was, Nancy thought over the case. Mr. Langley could easily have arranged the explosion. He also had the resources to have one of his employees sign for the costumes, hide them, and then set up Bess. No one would suspect that the owner of Mitchell’s would ruin his own store’s parade. But what Nancy still didn’t understand was, why frame Bess?

  When Nancy got to the open area outside Jill’s office, she saw that it was a madhouse. People were scouring phone books and making calls to try to locate new clown costumes. Through the open door to Jill’s office, Nancy saw Bess sitting alone, in the chair next to the desk.

  Nancy hurried in and told her friend what had happened with Howard Langley. Bess stared glumly down at the desk while Nancy spoke. She barely seemed to be listening.

  “The police were here before,” Bess said when Nancy was done. “Jill called them about the costumes. I know they didn’t believe my explanation about being fooled when I signed for the scarf. They even called Greg and Neil to verify that they were with me. And Jill still doesn’t trust me,” she went on quietly. “She’s barely talking to me. Nan
cy, they haven’t found enough replacement clown costumes yet—”

  Bess stopped talking as Jill walked in and sat at her desk. Jill nodded to Nancy but didn’t acknowledge Bess.

  “Bonnie and I checked everywhere in the store we could think of for the costumes, without any luck. Some of the clowns are just going to have to devise their own costumes, that’s all,” Jill said with a sigh. “We’re lucky that Disguise, Inc. was only providing about half the clown costumes. The other distributor’s costumes have been here since Monday. So at least we have them.”

  From the way Jill kept avoiding Bess’s gaze, it was obvious that she blamed Bess for the lost costumes. Nancy wanted to clear her friend, but she decided to hold off telling Jill about her suspicions of Mr. Langley. After all, he was Jill’s boss and the owner of Mitchell’s. Without solid proof, Nancy couldn’t expect Jill to believe the theory that he was the saboteur.

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” Nancy offered. “We’re supposed to meet Aunt Eloise for tea, but we have a few more minutes.”

  “Go on ahead. I wish I could do the same,” Jill said wearily.

  The girls decided to walk the half-dozen blocks to the café where they were meeting Nancy’s aunt. They had gone only a few blocks when Nancy grabbed Bess’s arm.

  “Hey, that’s Jill’s friend Aileen,” Nancy said, pointing to the other side of the street. “She was at the warehouse yesterday, covering the parade for the TV station she works for.”

  A camera crew was assembled in front of a small brownstone building. On one side of it was a skyscraper and on the other side was a large empty lot. Aileen stood in front of the camera, speaking into a microphone.

  “Let’s see what she’s reporting about,” Bess said.

  The two girls waited for the light to change, then crossed the avenue and joined the small crowd that had gathered. A small group of people walked in a circle, carrying signs protesting the demolition of the historic building, where a famous writer had lived. As Nancy and Bess listened to Aileen’s report, they learned that the building was to be demolished Thanksgiving Day, and another skyscraper was scheduled to go up on the brownstone lot and the empty lots adjoining it.