As shadows lengthened, I was confronted with a new worry. It occurred to me that Anne might not expect to take over her duties until long after dark. The air had grown chilly, and hungry mosquitoes were swarming from their breeding places.
“Even Mother doesn’t seem concerned about me anymore,” Florence moaned, slapping at a foraging insect. “If my precious daughter was marooned on a godforsaken riverbank being savaged by wild beasts, I’d be out looking for her.”
“But we told Anne to phone home and say not to expect us home until after dark,” I pointed out. “Under those circumstances, even your mother wouldn’t be enough of a fraidy cat to call out a search party after only a couple of hours.”
“Ouch!” Flo slapped wildly at the cloud of swarming insects orbiting her head.
“And, furthermore,” I said. “I don’t think getting bitten by a few teeny-weeny, itsy-bitsy mosquitoes counts as being savaged by wild beasts.”
“You’d think so if they were biting you.”
“Well, they aren’t biting me.”
“Perhaps that’s because you haven’t bathed for—”
“I bathed just yesterday.”
“Did you use soap?”
“We’re regressing into a couple of spoiled children,” I told Flo. “We’ve got to pull ourselves together and act like the grown women that we are.”
“Speak for yourself,” said Flo.
I glared at the motorboat snugly hidden in the underbrush. “If that thing weren’t worth so much money, I’d certainly chuck this job. Even so, I’m just about desperate.”
Florence, huddled against a tree trunk, suddenly straightened alertly. Placing a warning finger on her lips, she whispered, “Someone’s coming, Jane.”
“Maybe it’s Anne with a basket of food. I’d rather see her than a dozen saboteurs.”
“Keep quiet, you egg.”
We crouched low behind our shelter and waited, listening to the steady tramp, tramp of feet coming up the stream on our side of the bank.
“That’s not Anne,” I whispered to Flo. “She doesn’t walk like an elephant. What’ll we do if it should be a saboteur?”
“I thought you were formulating a plan,” Florence hissed back.
The footsteps came closer. Through the screen of underbrush, I saw a young man carrying a gasoline can. He was heading straight for our hiding place.
“Who is he?” whispered Florence.
“Can’t tell yet,” I said. “He looks a little like—oh, my aunt! It’s Eddie Franks. What is he doing here?”
Chapter Nineteen
Keeping low amid the underbrush, Florence and I waited and watched. Eddie Franks did not see us although he approached within a few feet of our hiding place. With no hesitation, he went to the motorboat and began filling the tank with gasoline.
“Eddie Franks, a thief and a saboteur?” Florence whispered. “I’ll never get over it.”
“Eddie hasn’t the pep to be a saboteur,” I said. “He’s far too timid to go around dynamiting things. There’s something wrong with this melodrama, and I’m going to find what it is right now.”
Before Florence could stop me, I sprang up from the underbrush to confront the dumbfounded young man.
“Eddie Franks, what do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.
Eddie nearly dropped the gasoline can. “Why, I’m filling this tank,” he replied without a trace of guilt. “Why were you ladies hiding behind that log?”
“Because we’ve been waiting to catch a motorboat thief.”
“Surely you don’t think I’m a motorboat thief,” said Eddie, setting down the gasoline can.
“This motorboat was stolen from Anne Halvorson. You’re filling the tank with gasoline, so you must expect to make a getaway to parts unknown.”
“This boat belongs to Anne Halvorson?” Eddie looked genuinely amazed.
“It certainly does.”
“You’re kidding. It belongs to a Mr. Wendell.”
“Who’s Mr. Wendell? I’ve never heard of him.”
“Well, neither did I until this afternoon,” Eddie admitted. “His friend gave me a dollar to come over here and fill the tank of this boat with gas. I’m only carrying out orders.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” I said. “How did you meet this Mr.?”
“Peters. I was working on the dock, tinkering with my engine, when a man calling himself Mr. Peters came up and started talking to me. He said he was a friend of this Mr. Wendell who was planning a fishing trip. Then he told me where the boat was and said he’d give me a dollar if I’d run over and fill the tank with gasoline.”
“Didn’t you think it a rather peculiar request?”
“Not the way the fellow explained it. Mr. Wendell is a busy man and doesn’t have time to look after such details.”
“I bet he is,” I said under my breath.
“Mr. Wendell—if indeed Mr. Peters and Mr. Wendell are not one and the same man— is afraid this boat is being watched, and he isn’t taking any chances,” Flo said soberly. “Eddie, you’ve been assisting a thief.”
“Gee willikers!” Eddie appeared genuinely aghast. “I never thought about him not owning the boat. What should I do?”
“First of all, don’t fill that tank with gasoline,” I told Eddie.
“But it’s nearly half full already.”
“Can’t you siphon it out?”
“Not without a tube, and I didn’t bring one.”
“You’ll never in the world make a G-man,” I sighed. “Well, at least you can describe the fellow who hired you.”
“I didn’t pay much attention,” Eddie admitted. “He was short and dark-haired. In his late thirties, I’d say. Had a little mustache. Now that I think back, that mustache could have been fake.”
“That can’t be the man who originally rented the boat from Anne,” I said.
“Are you absolutely sure this boat belongs to the Halvorsons?” Eddie asked. “You know they’re pretty badly tangled with the police. It said in the papers—”
“I know what it said in the papers,” I said. “And half of it can’t be true, although what do I know? I’m so mixed up I feel like a perpetual motion machine running backward.”
“We’ve been watching here all day,” Florence added, her voice quavering. “We’ve had nothing to eat. No wonder our minds are failing.”
“Why don’t you go home?” Eddie asked.
“And let a saboteur run off with this boat?” I said. “We promised to stay here until Anne comes.”
“Maybe she and her husband are pulling a fast one on you,” Eddie said.
“You might think so, but I don’t. This whole scheme to catch the thieves was my own idea,” I said. “Eddie, did that man mention when his friend Wendell intended to go fishing?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“He might intend to use the boat tonight. But then again, he might not come back for it for several days. Eddie, how would you like to earn an extra five dollars?”
“Five dollars?”
I could see Eddie’s face light up, even in the gathering gloom.
“I’ll give you five dollars to stay here and watch until Anne comes. It shouldn’t be long.”
“And what if those men should show up?”
“Just keep watch and see what they do. Of course, if they try to get away in the motorboat, you’ll have to capture them.”
“Oh, sure,” Eddie said sarcastically, suddenly a lot less excited by the prospect of five dollars. “You want me to catch them with my bare hands?”
“We won’t leave you here long,” I promised. “Florence and I haven’t had a bite of food all day—”
“Okay, I’ll do it,” Eddie gave in. “But see to it you’re back here in an hour. Better bring the police too.”
Eddie had crossed the river in a rowboat—his own motorboat was on the blink again—so we borrowed it for the return trip. We made a quick trip to the Halvorsons’ Dock.
The b
oat shed was closed and locked. A small boy, loitering nearby, told us that he had not seen Anne Halvorson for several hours.
“Now this is a fine kettle of fish,” I said. “Where could she have gone? And why?”
“Well, I know where I’m going,” Florence announced grimly. “Home! Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like it when you’re tired and hungry.”
“But what about poor Eddie? We can’t expect him to stay in the woods all night.”
“Well, there’s a hamburger stand at the park,” Florence suggested after a moment. “We could go there for a sandwich. Then we might telephone Jack and Shep and request reinforcements.”
At the hamburger stand, we ate three sandwiches each and topped off the meal with ice cream and pie. I then called Jack at home, but he didn’t answer. I decided to try the Examiner office on the chance he’d stayed late to cover a developing story.
First, I asked for Jack and was informed that he and Shep were out covering a house fire. Then I asked for my Father and was told he’d left the building to get a bite to eat.
I asked the reporter on the other end if he knew where Dad had gone for supper, but he didn’t know.
As a last resort, I asked to speak to Mr. DeWitt.
“DeWitt left the office a half hour ago.”
“I wonder where I can reach him.”
“Can’t tell you,” was the answer. “Fred Halvorson has skipped his bail and DeWitt’s upset about it. He may have gone to talk to his lawyer.”
“What was that about Fred Halvorson?” I couldn’t believe my ears.
“He’s disappeared—skipped town. Due for trial day after tomorrow, too. Looks like DeWitt is left holding the bag.”
When I got off the telephone, I told Flo what had happened.
“We’ll have to go back and relieve Eddie,” said Florence. “We promised we’d come back as soon as we’d eaten. Hopefully Anne has shown up by now.”
“It’s possible she skipped town along with her husband,” I said. I didn’t say it aloud, but I was beginning to wonder if that motorboat we’d been guarding ever belonged to the Halvorsons.
We beached Eddie’s boat not far from the mouth of Bug Run and proceeded on foot. To my relief, he had not deserted his post. He was shivering, and his face was swollen by mosquito bites.
“Thought you were never coming back,” Eddie said. “I’m getting out of here.”
“What happened while we were gone?” I asked. “Didn’t Anne come yet?”
“No one has been here. It’s just been me and about a million mosquitos.”
Eddie started away, as I tried to dissuade him.
“I wouldn’t stay here another hour if you’d give me that boat,” he said. “I’m going home.”
“I can’t blame you for wanting to go home, but at least telephone the Examiner office when you get back to Greenville,” I told Eddie. “Ask for Jack Bancroft and if you can’t reach him, ask for my father. Tell them that if we aren’t back home by ten P.M., they’d better come and get us. You can give them directions to this place?”
“Okay, I’ll do that,” Eddie promised. “So long.”
After the sound of Eddie’s footsteps died away, Florence and I sat down on the log and took stock of the situation.
“Any way you look at it, we’re just a couple of goats,” I said. “It wouldn’t be so bad if Noah would take us into his ark with the rest of the animals, but he’s not at home.”
“Why are we staying here, anyway?” Flo asked. “We could have gone home with Eddie. Now we’re stuck here until somebody else shows up. I’m not at all sure Anne—”
“I just can’t believe Anne would abandon us. Something must have happened to detain her.”
“I wish I could think so, but I can’t,” Flo said. “It would serve her right to lose this boat—if it actually is hers.”
“Anne always seemed sincere and honest to me,” I said, slapping furiously at the buzzing cloud of mosquitos encircling Flo’s head. “Until we have definite proof otherwise, I’m determined to trust her.”
“Even if trusting her means staying out here all night?”
“Well, my trusting nature has its limit,” I admitted. “But surely Dad or Jack will come to rescue us before it gets too late.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Florence said. “Eddie was in a bad mood when he left here, and he’s not the brightest bulb at the best of times. He might forget to call the Examiner office. Our near and dear may notice we’re missing when we don’t show up for supper, but no search party would ever find this spot without detailed instructions.”
Flo and I fell silent and huddled together to keep warm. Flo slapped constantly at the insects, but although the mosquitos used me as a landing strip, they seemed completely uninterested in siphoning off my red corpuscles. It grew steadily darker, then a few stars came out, followed by the waning moon which shone brightly.
“I don’t like to imagine how I’m going to explain all this to Mother,” Florence murmured once. “It doesn’t even make sense to me. This will be the second time I’ve failed to assist with preparing for the Temperance League jumble sale.”
“Tell her you were out on a date with Shep,” I suggested. “Tell her if she doesn’t want her only daughter to end up a spinster—”
“I’ve used that excuse three times already this week, and the sad thing is I’ve seen barely anything of Martin.”
Overhead an owl hooted. Crickets chirped, and at intervals, a frog would plop into the water.
We’d been sitting in the moonlight for about half an hour when I heard a crackling in the underbrush. Flo heard it too.
“Maybe it’s a bear,” Florence whispered as she gripped my arm.
“There aren’t any bears in this part of the country.”
“How do you know what sort of animals are around here? Maybe one escaped from Noah’s zoo.”
“I don’t think Noah has any bears on board,” I whispered back. “His tastes run entirely toward the domesticated.”
We crouched lower amid the brush. The gleam of an approaching flashlight flickered through the trees.
“It’s probably your father,” Florence whispered. “Or Jack.”
Flo started to stand up, but I pulled her back down.
“Eddie has barely had time to reach Greenville. It can’t be Dad or Jack back this quickly. This may be the big payoff.”
“A saboteur? Do you have your cosh?”
I patted the pocket of my skirt where I’d secreted my cosh, put my finger to my lips, and transferred all my attention to the approaching figure. The man was tall and muscular and walked with a cat-like tread. When he reached the motorboat, he muttered something under his breath as he examined the half empty fuel tank.
He turned so I could see his face in the moonlight. It was the headwaiter of the Green Parrot.
Chapter Twenty
Flo and I froze. The man gave no indication that he was aware of our presence. After puttering with the boat for a few minutes, he started off through the woods.
“Let’s follow and find out where he goes.”
Instead of returning along the banks of Bug Run back to the main river, the man chose the path which led deeper into the woods and back to Noah’s ark.
When the man reached the ark, he hesitated. The ark loomed dark and mysterious against a background of trees. There were no lights within. After looking at the ark for a moment, the man veered away from the well-trampled path, keeping on through the dense thickets.
“Don’t you think we should turn back?” Florence whispered. “There’s no guessing where we’ll end up. We could easily get so lost that a search party will never find us.”
I was plagued by the same worry but refused to admit it.
“Mrs. Mabry would be very disappointed to hear you talk like that,” I told Flo.
“Mrs. Mabry?”
“Surely you must remember Mrs. Mabry. She was our Girl Scout leader when we were in sixth grade. You p
ractically worshiped the ground Mrs. Mabry walked on, as I recall.”
Flo was unmoved by what Mrs. Mabry might or might not think about her former protégé’s lack of get-up-and-go. Florence remained firmly rooted to the spot as the glow of the headwaiter’s flashlight receded into the distance.
We were losing him.
“The woods stretch for only a few miles,“ I insisted. “Then it turns back to farmland. Even should we become disoriented, we’ll soon find our way out.”
Flo remained unmoved.
“If this fellow we’re tailing should prove to be a saboteur, everything will be lovely. Think of poor Anne.”
“Lovely is not the word I’d use,” Florence muttered, but she started to move again.
We’d now fallen many yards behind the headwaiter. Failing to see the flash of his light, we quickened our pace, and for a minute or two I feared we had lost him completely. But then I again saw a gleam of light off to the right.
Taking care to make no noise in the underbrush, we soon approached the man from behind.
A breeze had come up and dark clouds scudded across the sky, blocking out the moon at intervals, making it much harder to distinguish anything in the distance aside from the beam of the headwaiter’s flashlight.
“Great,” said Flo. “Now we’re going to be soaked, as well as lost. I’m turning around and taking shelter under the eaves of the ark.”
“Wait,” I said. “We’ve arrived.”
The flashlight beam had halted. The waiter stood in a small clearing with a small deserted shack in the middle of it. Flo and I paused behind a giant tree at the edge, watching.
The waiter looked at a watch which he held close to his flashlight beam.
“What time do you suppose it is?” Florence whispered.
“Not very late. Probably about nine o’clock.”
The headwaiter switched off his flashlight and waited.
“Whose cabin is it?” whispered Florence. “Do you know?”
“I think it might be the one that was built several years ago by an artist who lived here while he painted the ravine and river. I heard he died last winter, so I imagine no one uses it now.”
The Jane Carter Historical Cozies Box Set 2 Page 42