The Message in the Haunted Mansion (Nancy Drew Book 122)

by Carolyn Keene

  “Is that it?” George said flatly.

  Nancy shrugged. “I guess so.” She and George followed Hannah, Bess, and Rose upstairs.

  Abby seemed to have vanished when they got upstairs. Hannah, Rose, and the gifts trooped into the parlor. “Well, that was something,” George said, dropping onto the larger sofa.

  “Lizzie was really here!” Bess exclaimed. She turned to Nancy. “Now do you believe in Lizzie’s ghost?”

  “That was a magic show, Bess,” Rose said. “Abby has always loved magic and illusions.”

  Bess gave a huge sigh of frustration.

  “With the right equipment, we could reproduce every one of those effects,” Nancy added. “The floating spirit was just a balloon, the same balloon I saw the other night outside Abby’s window. I guarantee you that under her loose clothing, Abby has a cylinder of compressed air with a tube attached, leading to the balloon.” She and George exchanged glances, recalling the cylinder they’d found in Abby’s room.

  “What about the piano?” Hannah asked.

  “The piano is a player piano,” Nancy explained, “hooked up to a timer maybe. And the magic paper that burned in a flash could be bought at any magic store.”

  “But the rapping table?” Bess asked.

  “Mediums have been producing rapping tables for years,” Nancy told her. “You could simply have a block of wood strapped to your leg, which you bang against a table leg. I don’t know exactly how Abby made the table jerk and your chair lurch. Maybe she’s got some kind of mechanical device.”

  Bess crossed her arms. “Well, I still think Lizzie really was here,” she said stubbornly.

  Just then the doorbell rang. Nancy went to open the door. Mary Lee was there. “Hi, Nancy,” she said. “I brought you that copy of the photo of my great-grandfather with Lizzie.”

  Bess came up behind Nancy. “Hi, Mary. Did you ever find your cat?”

  Mary looked embarrassed. “Oh, uh, yes.”

  “Good,” Bess said brightly. “Want to come up and get a better look at our dresses?” As she led Mary upstairs, Bess flashed Nancy a look to say she’d pump Mary about the night before in the garden.

  “Well, back to work,” George groaned, joining Nancy in the entry. “I’ve still got half the yard to rake.”

  “I’ll join you in a minute,” Nancy said.

  Checking that Hannah and Rose were still in the parlor, Nancy quietly slipped downstairs to the saloon. Flipping on the light, she went over to examine the séance table.

  Nancy bent down to study the legs of the table. Underneath the third leg, she saw, the floor-boards were raised just slightly. Had they been knocked loose?

  Then, looking closer, she noticed with a frown that they all ended in a straight line instead of ending unevenly at different lengths.

  Nancy’s mouth dropped open. Those weren’t loose floorboards she was looking at.

  It was a trapdoor!

  13

  The Secret Tunnel

  Her heart racing, Nancy pushed aside the table and lifted the trapdoor. Underneath was a small, dark tunnel. Was this Abby’s secret?

  Her skin tingling with excitement, Nancy jumped up to get a flashlight. She spied Charlie’s tool kit in the corner of the saloon and quickly found a flashlight in it.

  She turned on the flashlight and climbed down through the trapdoor. A dirt-floored tunnel stretched before her. Curious, Nancy crawled forward.

  About fifteen feet farther on, the tunnel turned sharply. Nancy flashed her light up and found a narrow square hole above her head. Crawling up through it, she found herself in a small room. Nancy turned around and found herself staring into the lighted saloon.

  She gasped. The wall of this little room must be the back side of the mirror over the saloon’s bar. Another trick mirror, like the one between the parlor and entry hall upstairs! Switching off the flashlight, she could see into the saloon even more clearly.

  Why would Lizzie have built this hiding space with the trick mirror? Then it dawned on Nancy. This would be the perfect place for Lizzie to spy on the activities in her saloon.

  Then Nancy remembered the night Bess had “seen” Lizzie in the mirror. If this mirror was a two-way mirror, someone must have been standing in this little room.

  But who was it?

  Suddenly, Nancy heard a quiet whimpering. She spun around, turning on the flashlight.

  In a corner of the closetlike chamber, a white puppy gazed at her with huge sad eyes. A blood-stained rag was wrapped around his right paw. Beside him was a dish of water, a sleeping bag, and an empty Chinese food take-out carton.

  It looked as if someone was living in this little room with this puppy, but who?

  The puppy whimpered and then barked. “It’s okay,” Nancy said to him softly. “Don’t be afraid.” She knelt down and examined the dog’s badly cut paw.

  Then she swept her flashlight around the little room. In one corner a ladder led to a door overhead. She climbed up and pushed on the door. It wouldn’t budge.

  Nancy tried to visualize the layout of the house. If this hiding space was behind the saloon mirror, then it must also be beneath the pantry, right where the girls had moved the heavy ceramic crocks! That’s what was blocking this door, probably. Before the crocks were moved, someone might have been using this ladder to get into the kitchen and steal food.

  Just then a sharp scratching noise came from a side wall. Nancy shone the flashlight over. She saw a ventilation window with a sturdy cardboard box placed underneath so someone could climb in and out. Nancy realized what the scraping noise was: George raking leaves in the back garden.

  “George!” Nancy called.

  The rake stopped. “Nancy?”

  “Look for the window,” Nancy yelled.

  Nancy could hear the heavy shrubbery rustling. Then George peered through the small window. “Where are you, Nancy?” she asked, sounding baffled.

  “I’ll explain later,” Nancy said. “But first, take the puppy.” She lifted him up through the window.

  “Puppy?” George said, surprised. She took him gently in her arms.

  “I’ll meet you out front,” Nancy said.

  She crawled back out through the tunnel and ran upstairs to the Blue Room. Mary and Bess were sitting on the bed, admiring the old-fashioned dresses and hats.

  “Mary, you have a cat,” Nancy said as she burst into the room. “Is there a veterinarian anywhere nearby?”

  “Why, yes,” Mary said. “Dr. McGuire. She’s on Pine Street, one block away. But what—”

  “I’ll tell you later,” Nancy said, grabbing her jacket and purse and running back downstairs to find George and the puppy.

  While walking to the vet’s, Nancy told George what she had found. “That hiding space behind the mirror explains a few things,” she said. “That’s why the food was disappearing from the kitchen. And Bess’s vision of Lizzie in the mirror was probably that person standing in the chamber.”

  “So maybe that’s who is creating all the accidents,” George said. “The falling window, the flood, the fire, the chandelier—”

  Nancy looked doubtful. “Maybe,” she said. “But we don’t have any evidence yet.”

  Dr. McGuire, a young vet wearing blue jeans under her white coat, stitched up the dog’s cut paw, put a bandage on it, and prescribed an ointment. “He’ll be all right,” the vet assured them. “But I’d like to see him in a week.”

  The girls walked back to the mansion, Nancy carrying the little dog. But as they turned onto California Street, footsteps pounded behind them and a voice shouted, “Hey! That’s my dog!”

  Nancy wheeled around to face the teenage boy in the ragged army jacket. His long blond hair fell in curls around his face.

  Nancy and George looked at each other. So that’s who was living in the secret room! With his long blond hair, no wonder Bess thought he was a woman dressed in men’s clothes. And it was probably him out in the garden last night, too. So much for Bess’s ghost.r />
  The boy stood on the sidewalk, looking belligerent. Nancy gave him a friendly smile and held out the puppy. “We saw his paw was hurt, so we took him to the vet,” she said kindly.

  The boy took the dog awkwardly. “Uh, thanks,” he said. “He stepped on a nail, and it cut him pretty bad. I wanted to take him to the doctor, but I don’t have any money.” He rubbed the dog behind the ears, and the puppy wagged his tail wildly. “I found him one day last week. Somebody threw him out, I guess. I call him Tramp, ‘cause he’s just a tramp, like me.”

  The boy’s voice was steady, but his eyes shifted around nervously. Was he in trouble? Nancy wondered. “Who are you?” she asked. “And why are you hiding out in the mansion?”

  The boy bit his lip. “My name’s Tim Coletti,” he said. “I just finished high school in Iowa this year and I came out to San Francisco. I’ve always wanted to live in a big city. But I didn’t have a place to stay and … well, I guess I didn’t plan on everything being so expensive. I ran out of money,” he admitted. “I thought I could just crash in the old house. I didn’t mean any harm.”

  “But that’s trespassing,” Nancy said.

  Tim kept his eyes to the ground. “I know,” he said. “But the place is so big, and I thought no one would notice. I’m sure neither of the ladies who own it know about the secret room.”

  “How did you find it?” George asked.

  “A couple of weeks ago, I applied for a job washing dishes at the Chinese restaurant,” Tim said. “It was raining that day and really cold, so I ducked under some bushes. The frame had fallen off that little window, so I crawled inside. I found that weird room, and I stayed.”

  “You work at the restaurant?” Nancy asked.

  “On weekends,” Tim said. “I’m saving money to get a place to live.”

  “Then you do know Mary?” George asked.

  “Yeah,” Tim said, smiling for the first time. “She’s really nice. She gives me food, even on days I’m not working.”

  Now Nancy knew why Mary was in the garden the night before—she’d been bringing food to Tim. “You took food from our kitchen, too, right?” Nancy asked.

  Tim squirmed. “Yeah—at least, until a few days ago, when the door got blocked,” he said. “And the other night, when someone left the big window door open—”

  “The jib door,” George put in.

  The boy shrugged. “I guess. I took some cake that night,” he confessed. “It was really good.”

  “Why did you cut it with a file?” Nancy asked.

  “I couldn’t find a knife,” Tim said. “But the file was lying on top of the refrigerator.”

  “One more thing,” Nancy said to Tim. “The day of the fire, I saw you running away from the mansion. Why?”

  “I smelled smoke,” he said simply. “I ran to pull the fire alarm on the corner.”

  “Did you have anything to do with starting the fire?” Nancy asked quietly.

  Tim’s blue eyes grew big. “No! I swear I didn’t!” he insisted.

  Nancy stared at him. He seemed to be telling the truth. “Did you see anything unusual before the fire started?” she asked.

  Tim thought for a moment. “No—only … well, right before I smelled the smoke, I looked out my little window and saw that old guy.”

  “Charlie?” Nancy asked.

  Tim looked blank. “Is that his name? The guy who’s always around the house?” he said. “Anyway, he was carrying a red bag, like an old sports duffel. He was holding on real tight, like he was afraid to lose it.”

  Nancy’s eyes widened in surprise. The sales slip from the building supply store seemed like a good alibi for Charlie. But had he really been at the mansion at the time of the fire?

  Shifting from foot to foot, Tim looked at Nancy and George anxiously. “Look, are you guys going to make me leave the house? I don’t have a place yet. Do you think—could Tramp and I stay a little longer?” he pleaded.

  Nancy looked at George. She could tell her friend felt just as sorry for Tim as she did. “It might help to have another pair of eyes around,” Nancy admitted. “We’ll keep your secret—if you promise to tell us about anything unusual you see.”

  Tim broke out into a grateful grin. “Thanks!” he said. “And could you unblock that door? I won’t take any food, but I’d like to be able to get water for me and Tramp.”

  Nancy nodded. “And we’ll leave food out.”

  On returning to the house, Nancy and George went first to the pantry. They dragged the large ceramic crocks away from the trapdoor.

  Then they went up to the Blue Room, where Bess had talked Mary into helping her alter the dresses. Nancy and George filled them in on what they’d learned. Mary said she was relieved not to have to keep Tim’s secret anymore.

  Mary had planned to go running with George, but one panicky look from Bess convinced her to stay and finish sewing. Nancy offered to go with George instead. They changed into jogging clothes.

  As Nancy and George came out the front door, Louis was stepping out of his car, carrying a bouquet of yellow roses. “Roses for my Rose,” he said. He winked at the girls and then waved as they started to jog off toward the Presidio.

  Nancy and George ran in silence for several miles through the misty twilight. Fog gathered, and it grew dark rapidly. “Let’s head home,” Nancy suggested. George nodded, and they turned around.

  Suddenly headlights cut through the mist. A car swung around the bend ahead, going very fast. Nancy looked up, expecting the car to swerve around them.

  But as the headlights came closer, Nancy gasped. The car wasn’t swerving at all. It was heading straight for them!

  14

  Too Close!

  “Watch it!” Nancy yelled. She pushed George into the large bushes bordering the sidewalk and jumped in after her.

  The headlights glared into the bushes, and the piercing squeal of tires cut through the night air. Peering through the bushes, Nancy saw the car barely miss the sidewalk as it screeched around the bend and roared off into the gathering dusk.

  Nancy’s eyes widened in fear and disbelief. The car was a Bay City Cab, number 78.

  George rose, brushing off dirt and leaves. “That was close!”

  “Too close,” Nancy said, standing up.

  “I guess that driver didn’t see us because of the fog,” George said.

  “I think the driver of that car did see us,” Nancy said firmly. “It headed right for us. But it veered off at the last minute, as if he only wanted to scare us.” She drew a breath. “It was a Bay City Cab, George. Charlie drives a Bay City Cab.”

  George stared at Nancy. “Was it him?”

  “I don’t know,” Nancy said. “But I know how to find out.”

  The girls jogged back to the mansion. Nancy bolted up the stairs, ran to the Blue Room, and got Lieutenant Chin’s card from her purse. Then she went back down to the kitchen phone to dial his number.

  “You said to call if I needed help, Lieutenant,” she said as he picked up the line.

  “What can I do for you, Nancy?” he asked.

  “I need to know who was driving Bay City Cab number seventy-eight this evening,” Nancy said.

  “I’m sure I can get that information,” he said, sounding puzzled. “But why? Is this a police matter?”

  “It may be, Lieutenant. The cab tried to run us down just now,” Nancy told him.

  Lieutenant Chin paused. “You’re sure the driver just didn’t see you?” he said cautiously.

  “It’s possible, but I don’t think so,” Nancy replied.

  “I’ll get you the information,” the police detective assured her. “I trust your instincts. But, Nancy, please be careful. And when it’s time, you must call in the authorities.”

  “I know that, Lieutenant,” Nancy said.

  “Good. I’ll get back to you,” he said.

  * * *

  The next morning, when the girls came down to breakfast, Louis was sitting at the kitchen table with R
ose and Abby. Louis looked handsome in a nubbly gray sports jacket and charcoal gray slacks.

  “Good morning,” Nancy said, grabbing a container of yogurt from the refrigerator. “Where’s Hannah?”

  “She’s having Sunday brunch with her friend Emily,” Rose said. “They’re going to try out the omelettes at the café in the Miramar Hotel.”

  Abby smiled. “Those omelettes are heavenly.”

  “So are you girls interested in helping me set up my booth for the Winter Festival.” Louis asked. “The festival starts at noon, so we have to decorate this morning.”

  “I’d really better keep working with Charlie on chipping the paint outside,” Nancy said, begging off. It would be a perfect chance to ask Charlie some questions, she thought.

  “Count me out,” Abby said. “I’m going to start sanding the saloon floor. Charlie rented a sander. It’ll be a big job, so if I can get in even a few hours of work this morning, that will be one step forward.”

  “Well, I’m happy to help with the booth,” George said. “So is Bess. Right, Bess?”

  “Sounds better than wallpapering,” Bess chimed in, flashing a mischievous smile as she poured herself a bowl of granola.

  “Good,” Louis said. “I’ll drop you off here after we’re done so you can change into your costumes.” He paused. “Won’t you reconsider, Nancy? It should be loads of fun. I have a collection of antique ornaments in the car, a little tree, and a whole assortment of curio items. We’ll make the booth look just like a little Victorian shop, all decorated for Christmas.”

  Nancy shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll see you all back here.”

  Rose placed her hand on Louis’s. “I’m glad to help,” she murmured. “I know I’ll enjoy it.”

  Louis gave her fingers a gentle tug. “It’ll do you good to get out of the mansion for awhile,” he told her in a soft, husky voice.

  The telephone rang, and Nancy hopped up to get it. At the other end was Lieutenant Chin. “Nancy? I have the name of the driver of cab seventy-eight last night,” he told her. “It was a Charles Webber.”

  Nancy’s heart jumped. It was Charlie! “Uh, I see. Thank you,” she quickly said, turning her face away so no one in the kitchen could see her flush.