Apparently Phil wasn’t going to mention the explosion, so neither did Ted or Nelson.
“How have things been going with you, Phil?” Ted asked then.
“Oh, the closing of the mine hurt us almost as much as anyone. Our business took a nose dive, and has never really recovered since. I was a high-school correspondent for our local paper, the way you were, Ted, when the explosion came. It was a big enough story so that I covered it along with the rest of the staff. It was my last important story. I went off to college to study pharmacy, but my money ran out in the second year, and I came home. Our local newspaper had died by that time, but I latched on to the Town Crier as a correspondent. It’s not as good as having our own local paper, of course, but Mr. Dobson tries to be fair.”
“Would the opening of the mine help you get back to college?” asked Nelson.
“It sure wouldn’t hurt anything. But I don’t know—I’m not sure that this mine is ever going to open again. And if it does automation may eliminate a lot of jobs anyway.”
But if he wasn’t figuring on the mine getting him back to college, Ted wondered, what would he do?
“If you want to talk to some young people, Ted, why don’t you stop in at the Teen-agers’ Canteen tonight? I won’t be able to stay the whole evening, but I’ll be able to introduce you around a little.”
Both Ted and Nelson thought this was a good idea, and agreed to meet him there. Then they took their leave.
That night Phil introduced the boys to a number of students and ex-students. There was a juke box going, and Ted was soon dancing with a high-school girl named Estelle. Although he was not advertising the fact that he was a reporter, Estelle remembered his by-line on some stories in the Town Crier.
“Are you going to stay on in East Walton, Estelle?” he inquired.
“Oh, no. Hardly anyone is—just a few who have no ambition, or are too tied down with responsibilities here, or have hopes of other kinds of jobs besides coal mining. None of us kids has much confidence in the mine any more.”
“What are your plans, Estelle?”
“I’m better off than most. My father is an unemployed coal miner, too, but I have an aunt who is going to help me through college. I plan to become a music teacher. I’m only waiting to get my high-school diploma. Most of the high-school graduates can’t go on to college, unless their fathers happen to be prosperous coal pirates.”
“Coal pirates? What are those?”
“Haven’t you heard about the coal pirates? Well, you know the mine is closed, but there are really a good many miners working down there. They come and go as they please, and dig coal for their own profit.”
“Doesn’t the company try to stop them?”
“Mr. Winslow, the president, is pretty tolerant about it. He figures they can’t get away with much, and if it helps some of the most desperate cases, then he’s willing to overlook it.”
“Do the pirates manage to earn very much?”
“I don’t suppose they do, although there’s a lot of joking about it under cover. No one talks about it, although everyone knows that it’s going on.”
“Is your father one of the coal pirates?”
“Oh, no. Some people think it’s all right, and some don’t. My father doesn’t.”
None of the talk changed Ted’s viewpoint about East Walton. Young people felt there was nothing for them in this community. Even if the mine opened again, they would be left out. Their only reaction was to get out of town as soon as possible.
Ted and Nelson decided to leave the Canteen early, and drove back to the motel quickly, only to find an officer awaiting them.
“Are you Nelson Morgan?” he asked, sticking his head in the window on the driver’s side, and Nelson nodded. “I’ve been waiting for you. Mind if I search you, young man?”
CHAPTER 7.
Big Trouble
THE boys stared at the patrolman. What could he be after, and what were their rights in the matter? Surely an officer had no right to search a person unless he had been behaving in a suspicious manner. Where did that leave them?
“Do we have to allow it?” asked Ted, who seemed to be included in the officer’s invitation.
“No, you don’t.”
Ted and Nelson looked at each other. They couldn’t see how a search was going to hurt them any, and it might help to speed up matters. Nelson gave a little shrug to say that it was up to Ted, and he said:
“OK, go ahead.”
The patrolman went ahead with the job, apparently without finding what he was after.
“Any objection if I search your car?”
Nelson looked at Ted once more. “I guess not.”
Having already locked his car, Nelson got out the key and handed it to the officer. He opened the door and patted around the seat cushions. Next he looked in the glove compartment, then reached in his pocket for a handkerchief and used it to lift something out. The boys were stunned to see that it was a revolver. A gun in their car?
“Is this yours?” asked the officer.
“No,” Nelson said angrily. “I never saw it before.”
“Neither did I,” Ted added, as the officer turned toward him.
“Actually, carrying a gun in your car isn’t such a serious offense,” the officer went on. “If it is your gun, I advise you to admit it, since we can probably check on it anyway.”
“Why admit something that isn’t so?” Nelson demanded.
“In that case, I think you’d better come along to the station until we see if the gun can be identified.”
“Are we under arrest?” asked Ted.
“No. Since you seem to be under twenty-one, I’ll give you a word of unofficial advice. If you’ve got anything to hide, don’t say anything until you’ve consulted a lawyer. But if you haven’t, then the more cooperation you give us, the sooner we can probably get this thing cleared up. Which way do you want it?”
“We’ll cooperate,” Nelson decided. “Shall I drive in my car?” and the officer nodded.
The boys got into their car and drove off, with the patrol car close behind.
“How about this, Ted? The officer knew who I was before we got there, and he knew what he was looking for, too. As soon as he found the gun he stopped looking for anything else. That means he must have had a tip the gun was there.”
“Yes, and who could have tipped him off, except the person who put it there?”
“Won’t the police know who gave them the tip?”
“Probably not. Most likely it was an anonymous telephone call. Remember how careful he was to ask our permission about everything. They wouldn’t need our permission if they had a warrant, and even a signed complaint might give them more authority.”
“Well, then, what else did this anonymous caller tell them? We may be in more trouble than just having a gun in our possession.”
At the station they parked the car, and the officer followed them inside. “Here they are,” he announced to the desk sergeant. “I found this revolver in the glove compartment of their car.”
“You know what to do with it.” The officer nodded, and left the room. “What are your names and addresses?” the sergeant asked, without looking at them, and they told him. “Do you have any identification?”
Both had driver’s licenses, which they produced. The sergeant examined them and then Ted handed him his press card.
“Are you here on assignment, Wilford?” he inquired.
“Yes, I am.”
“Then you won’t mind if I verify that fact. You understand that I have the regular procedures to carry through. What is Mr. Dobson’s telephone number?”
“He won’t be at the office this late,” said Ted, so he gave the sergeant Mr. Dobson’s home number rather reluctantly. Was it really necessary to bring him into this? Ted liked to feel that he could handle an assignment from the newspaper by himself, without having to run to Mr. Dobson for help.
The call went through. The boys got the impression that Mr. Dobson was gi
ving them the strongest possible recommendation. Even the sergeant seemed impressed.
“Tell him we have no idea how the gun got into the car,” Ted suggested, and the sergeant did so. Ted realized he would have to call Mr. Dobson later and explain more fully.
“You’re acting on an anonymous telephone tip, aren’t you?” Ted questioned.
“That’s right. Personally I hate anonymous calls, but a police department can’t afford to ignore them. By the way, you may as well sit down until we get the report on the gun.”
As the sergeant turned to other work, the boys left the desk and sat down, puzzled and worried.
“When was the last time you looked in that glove compartment, Ted?”
“When I got the map out, on our way out here. What about you?”
“I haven’t opened it at all. So when was it put in? The car was parked all night outside the coal mine. Then we parked at the motel, and this afternoon we walked to Phil’s, leaving the car unguarded. It was in the parking lot tonight. What’s your best guess? I’d say it was either last night or tonight. A person wouldn’t be likely to fool around with a car in broad daylight.”
“Tonight in the parking lot outside the Canteen seems the most likely. Last night nobody knew we were coming to East Walton, and certainly we never planned on parking all night outside the coal mine. Who knew we were there—unless you think this person just wanted to plant the gun on somebody, no matter who. Another point is that we might have gone into that glove compartment at any time, and if we found the gun we might have disposed of it quietly, or if we turned it in to the police, that would be a point in our favor. I think the person who planted the gun on us called the police almost immediately afterward.”
“But what’s the idea, Ted?”
“Oh, I don’t think there’s very much doubt about that,” said Ted. “Somebody in town doesn’t like what we’re doing, and is trying to get rid of us.”
“Trying to get rid of us? How?”
“If the police don’t harass us enough to make us leave, maybe they hope Mr. Dobson will recall us, or maybe we’ll scare out.”
“Maybe number one or number two, but not number three,” said Nelson emphatically. “I don’t scare out, especially after somebody tries to pull something like this. But what are we doing that’s hurting anybody?”
“We’re going around asking questions. Apparently somebody doesn’t like our questions, or at least is afraid of some of the answers we might get.”
“Who knows that we’ve been going around town? We’ve only talked to maybe a dozen people.”
“In a small town that’s plenty. It’s probably all over the place by now. Not that I think we’re so important, but coal mining is certainly important to this town, and they’d want to know about anything that might help.”
“Ted, there’s only one way I can figure this. We’re asking questions that will lead to a newspaper story, and might start an investigation that would lead to the reopening of the mine. Who could we be hurting? It has to be somebody who wants the mine to stay closed.”
“Maybe,” said Ted thoughtfully. “But what about the coal pirates, or anybody else who has committed some sort of crime? They might want the mine open, but still be afraid we would expose what they were doing.”
“Everybody knows about the coal pirates, Ted.”
“Yes—or thinks they do.”
“What do you mean by that, Ted?”
“That there might be more going on in that mine than we realize. It might involve something more than just a question of stealing a few cartloads of coal every night.”
Nelson began to count on his fingers: “Uranium, gold, pitchblende, diamonds . . . “
Ted smiled. “Or maybe just plain, everyday coal. Even coal’s worth something, you know. I wonder how they work it? I don’t know how many entrances there are to the mine. There must be miles and miles of tunnels underneath the ground there. I wonder if they could come all the way to East Walton? I suppose the idea was to build the city some distance away from the mine, so it wouldn’t interfere with the mining, but it’s possible the tunnels come close.”
“I wish we were sitting above a tunnel right now, and I wouldn’t care much if this police station fell right into it—after we’re out of it. I wonder how much longer . . . “
As though in answer to his unfinished question, the patrolman returned to the room, and they followed him to the desk.
“No fingerprints,” he told the sergeant. “But I’ve got the registered owner.” He put a paper in front of the sergeant, who read it carefully, then turned to the boys.
“This is a stolen gun. It was taken in a burglary last night.”
“The Royce drugstore?” asked Ted.
“Yes, you know about that?”
“We were over there this afternoon. Phil Royce is a correspondent for the Town Crier. He didn’t say anything about a gun being stolen, though.”
“No, I don’t suppose he was eager to broadcast it. But he reported the theft to us. Since you know him, I’ll ask him to come over. I have to tell him about the recovery of the gun, anyway.”
He phoned the drugstore, and Phil promised to come over right away. The sergeant continued his questioning.
“Just for the record, where were you boys last night?”
“In the coal mine,” Ted replied.
“The coal mine?”
“Say,” said the patrolman suddenly, “these must be the boys who found the Llewellyn kids.”
“That’s right.” The sergeant thumbed through some papers to verify it. “You fellows certainly did us a good turn.”
The boys felt that the atmosphere was more cordial, even though the questioning continued.
“You say you were in the mine all night. Now of course that doesn’t prove that you couldn’t have robbed the drugstore. It’s a pretty good alibi, but not a perfect one. If Phil Royce is willing to vouch for you, I guess that will be enough. Now if this gun was planted on you, as you claim, when was it probably done?”
“We were just discussing that,” said Nelson, and went on to explain that it had probably happened at the parking lot near the Canteen.
“We’ll check into it,” the sergeant promised. “Do you usually keep your car locked?”
“Usually—in fact, just about always. But I wouldn’t say the locks are so wonderful. Anybody with a string of car keys might be able to find one that would fit.”
Phil arrived soon afterward. He admitted that this was the gun that had been taken in the robbery, but he was indignant that his friends should have been charged with the theft.
“I’m sure it was the work of juveniles, or at least somebody who was familiar with East Walton and the drugstore. These fellows are strangers here. They couldn’t have known about the burglar alarm, and the rest of it.”
“Have you known them very long?”
“Actually I never met either of them until this afternoon. But we’ve worked for the same newspaper for a long time. Ted’s a responsible reporter, and he wouldn’t be interested in a petty little robbery like this. To believe that he came all the way from Forestdale just to break into my store is ridiculous.”
“Well, that makes sense,” the sergeant agreed, “although I’ve heard about reporters who have done some pretty strange things for the sake of a newspaper yarn. I suppose, too, that there’s a possibility that you somehow acquired the gun from the real burglars, just as there’s a chance I might find a thousand dollars on my way home.”
“Then are we cleared?” asked Nelson.
“I guess so—unless I find a thousand-dollar bill on my way home,” he added. “Then I might decide to question you again.”
“You can’t say they mistreated us,” Ted remarked when they got outside the station.
“Well, I’m glad to be out of there,” Nelson added. “I’m not sure we would be, if it hadn’t been for our alibi. We thought we helped the Llewellyn children, but it turned out that they helped us ju
st as much.”
“How was that?” asked Phil curiously.
“We spent last night together in the coal mine.”
“You told me about finding the children, but you didn’t tell me they had gone into the mine. That’s a terribly dangerous thing for them to do. There ought to be a barricade to keep them out.”
“I thought there was a kind of old barricade there,” Nelson recollected.
“Very likely, but the men always tear them down.”
“Yes, we’ve heard about the coal pirates,” Ted explained.
“I knew you would before long. I don’t suppose you could call it stealing, if the man you’re stealing from knows about it and lets you do it. But they manage to keep the market busy—the black market, if you’ll excuse the pun.”
“Anyway, thanks for speaking up for us, Phil. If you ever come to Forestdale—”
“We’ll bail you out,” Nelson completed with a laugh. “Well, I spent last night in a coal mine, and almost spent tonight in jail. I wonder where I’ll be sleeping tomorrow night?” And with that they broke up.
On the way back Ted stopped at an outdoor phone booth to call Mr. Dobson. He thought it better not to call from their cabin, where the call went through a switchboard. Mr. Dobson was anxious, as Ted knew he would be, to get fuller details on what had happened, and Ted brought him up to date on everything they had done in East Walton. He then told them to stick with the story and keep him informed.
Back in their cabin they reviewed the day’s happenings.
“What burns me up, Ted, is that somebody planted that gun on us and is now probably laughing up his sleeve about it. Are we going to let him get away with it?”
“What do you think we ought to do?”
“Go back to the Canteen, and do a little checking up.”
“The police are already following up that lead.”
“And that’ll get them a big fat nowhere. I imagine most of the young people in town drop in there regularly, and with all that confusion, it would be hard to remember who was there and who wasn’t.”
“Then what’s your brainstorm?”
“Well, how about someone making sure of your attention while someone else planted the gun?”
The Abandoned Mine Mystery Page 5