“I dunno what’ll become of us now,” Mrs. Gains said.
“Wisht we had our houseboat, Ma,” Jed added.
“Don’t talk about it, Jed,” his mother said. “Dreamin’ about yer troubles is sure bad luck. Last night I seen that there boat jest as plain as day. There she was, layin’ in a little cove, jest as neat and trim as the day she vanished. Then I hears Joe a snorin’ like a bull frog with ader-noids. When I come to and knew it was jest a dream, I felt mighty low.”
“It’s strange about The Empress,” I said. “Florence and I both believe we saw her—or one very like her—down on the Mulberry River.”
“Joe gits lots of reports about The Empress.” Jennie Gains sighed. “Seems like that boat has a way o’ vanishin’ before he kin git to where it ain’t.”
I was still desperately worried about Jack, even as I spoke to Jennie Gains, half my brain was devoted to wondering if Mud Cat had found any clues in the river. But there was nothing I could do, so I decided to take the troubles of the Gains family upon my shoulders.
“Now don’t you do any worrying, Mrs. Gains,” I said. “Before nightfall, I’ll find another place for you to live. And we’ll do our best to get you back on the river before long.”
“That’s mighty sweet of you, Ma’am. I really don’t see why you put yourself out fer the likes o’ we ’uns. You ain’t a-beholdin’ to us fer nothin’ I kin make out. But I guess some folks is that-away. Doin’ a good turn comes natural to ’em.”
“It isn’t all one-sided,” I said. “Your husband is presently engaged in doing us a very great favor.”
There was no point in try to load the Gains brood into Bouncing Betsy. They’d have never all fit, and besides, there was no place for them to go once we got to White Falls, so we left them there, guarding their meager possessions. It was a warm, sunny day without a rain cloud in sight.
“You’ve let yourself in for trouble, in my opinion, making a promise like that,” said Flo, uncharacteristically pessimistic. “It won’t be easy to find a new home for the Gains family. No one will want them when they can’t pay rent.”
“I know, but someone has to look after them. It was a mean trick for Glen Conrad to set the sheriff on them. I suspect the property belongs to Mrs. Fairchild.”
“Then, couldn’t you force Glen Conrad to allow the family to remain in the shed?”
“I suppose I could, Flo, because the man is pretty meek since all this new trouble came up, but it’s scarcely worth the effort. That old shed never was a suitable place for humans to live. It will simply be easier to find a new home for Joe and his family.”
“Just where do you propose to find this new home?”
“It will have to be along the river, or Joe would pine away. There are quite a number of shacks and cottages on the banks of the Grassy.”
“And who will pay the rent? Unless Mr. Pittman has suddenly tripled your going rate, you can’t pay it, and I certainly haven’t the money.”
“We’ll meet that problem when we come to it. Let’s start searching for a suitable place now. It will give us a good excuse to talk to the locals. Let’s keep our eyes and ears open for any information which might have anything to do with Jack.”
“What could we hope to learn, Jane?”
“Well, there’s an outside chance he’s being held a prisoner in some old shack along the river.”
“You’re assuming he was spirited away from Old Mansion. How could anyone have entered that house without being seen? The house was packed with guests, and since they were all on the Examiner’s staff, they were well acquainted. A stranger would have been noticed immediately, even if he’d only walked through the hall.”
“Have you forgotten that face you saw in the mirror, Flo?”
“I’ll never forget it.” Flo shivered. “But the person I saw must have been standing outside the window. I’m sure he wasn’t in the room.”
“Can’t you describe the face, Flo?”
“No, it all happened so quickly. I just caught a fleeting glimpse, and then it was gone.”
“I believe you must have seen the person responsible for Jack’s disappearance. Probably it’s someone living right near White Falls!”
“I hope I never meet the fiend. Just the recollection of that face gave me a horrible nightmare.”
“I’d attempt anything if it would help bring Jack back,” I said.
I fell silent, occupied with my unpleasant thoughts. I turned off on a side road which took us along the river, and we looked for empty shacks. We found only one, and it was very little better than the old shed where Mud Cat Joe and his family had been living.
“Let’s try the other side of the river,” Flo suggested.
We drove across the steel bridge at the outskirts of White Falls and resumed our search. After an hour, we finally came upon a woman who told us about a place farther up the river.
“It’s a right smart little cottage,” the woman said. “Partly furnished too, but the owner ain’t been able to rent it ’cause the roof leaks. And when the river is high, it sometimes floods right into the yard.”
I jotted down the name of the man who owned the cottage. Then I asked if she’d noticed anything amiss in the vicinity during the night of Jack Bancroft’s disappearance. I had asked the same question a hundred times over already and had no hope of receiving an illuminating reply.
“Well, I can’t say as I noticed anything out of the way,” the woman said, “but folks think plenty about what goes on at Old Mansion. It looks mighty queer to me that they’re adraggin’ the river for a body. I said to my husband, says I, ‘Chris, if folks was right smart they’d ask a few questions of the Conrads, ’specially about that motor boat which runs down the river at night.’”
“Is a motor boat so unusual on a river?” Flo asked.
“No, Miss, it ain’t, but when the engine is muffled, there’s usually a reason for it. I saw the boat three separate times. She was crusin’ around Old Mansion, and with no lights. I said to my husband, I says, ‘Chris, there’s something mighty strange about the way that boat acts.’”
“When did you notice the motor boat?” I asked.
“I heard it last night ‘round midnight. The other two times was quite a spell ago.”
The woman had no more of consequence to tell, so we thanked her and headed up the river to the cottage. It was a decent place—certainly a great improvement on the old shed the Gains family had just been forced to vacate—and almost directly opposite Old Mansion.
“This should serve the Gains family nicely if only arrangements can be made with the owner,” I said.
The owner lived in White Falls. I was pleased to find him a reasonable and kind-hearted man. He knew Mud Cat Joe, and when he learned of his plight, agreed that in return for certain repair work and a weekly mess of fish, the Gains family might live in the cottage for the remainder of the summer.
Before returning to tell Jennie Gains the good news, I called at Old Mansion. Clarence Emerson chanced to be there, and I told him all the woman had said regarding the motorboat.
“I’ll look into that angle,” he said, but in a tone which caused me to think he did not consider the clue of great significance.
I did not bother to inquire if any progress had been made in the case, for the detective’s general air of discouragement told the story.
After a hasty luncheon at Mr. Vhorst’s café, we returned to the Gains shed. Mrs. Gains and her brood were jubilant when we told them about the cottage, and Jed ran down to the river’s edge, to signal his father. Soon Mud Cat Joe rowed up to the landing.
“How we goin’ to git all our truck down to the cabin?” Jennie asked.
“I can take everything in the car except livestock,” I said. “I’ll have to make a couple of trips, though. Joe, I suggest you attach the raft to your rowboat and tow the chickens, the goat and the pigs.”
“I dunno how that goat will ride,” Mud Cat said doubtfully. “But we kin try ’e
r.”
After three trips, we’d transported Jennie, the younger children, and all their worldly goods back to the cottage. Soon after, Mud Cat Joe, his son Jed, and the strange floating zoo reached the riverbank near the cottage, with the goat still aboard, albeit in a fighting mood.
“This sure is a nice little lean-to,” Mud Cat said, surveying his new domain. “The roof I kin fix up with a few shingles, and the walls ain’t got many chinks. It’s a lot better than livin’ in a cow shed.”
“It’s a right purty little house,” Jennie said. “It’s got runnin’ water and a sink. I never had nothin’ like that before, even on The Empress. But we won’t be up to payin’ no water bills.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” I said. “I’ve taken care of all those things.”
“I don’t see how we kin ever pay you back,” said the shanty boat man.
“You have paid me already.”
I glanced at the riverman’s horny right hand which had been blistered from steady rowing. I knew he had been faithfully searching for Jack since daylight.
“I done a right smart chore of rowin’,” Joe said. “One of them oars was rough, and then draggin’ ain’t no fun.”
“Mr. Gains,” I said, “there’s something else you could do for me if you are willing. I wish you would keep watch of Old Mansion, especially at night. If you see anything unusual or suspicious, notify me or Detective Emerson.”
Mud Cat Joe nodded.
“Tomorrow I’ll git on with the draggin’ agin,” he said, following Flo and I to Bouncing Betsy. “But I figgers I’d a found that body long before this if I was a-goin’ to.”
The sun was sinking low as we crossed the bridge and entered White Falls.
“We should be starting home,” Florence said. “It’s going to be dark soon.”
“I know the road by heart, so there’s no danger we’ll get lost,” I said, switching on the headlights.
We traveled five miles or so in the gathering dusk.
“Does it seem to you that we’re bumping more than usual,” I asked Flo.
“It feels like we have a flat tire.”
I pulled up at the side of the road and got out to have a look at the tires. To my relief, they were all sound. However, Bouncing Betsy’s tail lights didn’t seem to be burning.
“Is the switch turned on all the way, Flo?” I called.
Flo turned the button but only succeeded in extinguishing the headlights. At that moment, another car came around the bend. Before Florence could switch on the headlights again, the car drew up at the side of the road some distance away. A man got out and took a large bundle and a thermos flask from the rear of his car.
I rushed to the front of the car.
“Never mind those lights,” I whispered. “Leave them off.”
Flo just nodded and continued staring at the man who had exited the parked car. Taking the paper-wrapped bundle and the thermos flask, the man disappeared into the woods.
“You know who that was, Flo?
“No, how could I see his face at this distance?”
“Well, I did!” I said. “I caught a glimpse of it as he stood for a moment in the headlight beam. The man was Ralph, Flo! You remember Ralph from the laundry. The Sheik. What I wouldn’t give to learn where he’s taking that thermos flask!”
CHAPTER 19
“It does seem peculiar that Ralph would be carrying a thermos flask into the woods at this time of night,” Florence acknowledged. “Still, he’s breaking no law by doing it.”
“I wonder what was in the bundle?” I opened the car door and tugged at Florence’s hand.
“Come along!” I said. “We have to follow him.”
“Jane Carter, have you lost your mind? I’m staying right here. I never heard of such a crazy thing! Just because he’s carrying a package and a thermos flask—”
I didn’t bother arguing with Flo. Instead I snatched the flashlight I carried under the driver’s seat and started across the road toward the woods. Florence hesitated, but not for long.
“Wait, Jane,” Flo called softly. “I’m coming.”
“Hurry, or we’ll lose him.”
In the dense woods it was already quite dark, but far ahead we could see the bobbing beam of a flashlight focused on the ground as the man who carried it walked along.
“Jane, I don’t know what’s in your mind,” Flo complained, as she stumbled over a log, “but whatever it is, it’s a crazy idea!”
“Is it crazy to try to find Jack? Ralph may lead us straight to him.”
“You believe Ralph took Jack a prisoner? It’s unbelievable!”
“That food is meant for someone. If Ralph weren’t up to something, why would he come here at night?”
We were gaining on Ralph, so Flo kept quiet. Unaware that he was being trailed, Ralph moved deeper into the forest. Once he paused as if to listen. We flattened ourselves against tree trunks and waited, even though Ralph could not possibly have seen us in the darkness. I had not illuminated my flashlight.
Ralph was heading for the river, and in a few minutes more we reached a small tributary of the Grassy. Ralph walked along the banks for some distance, coming to a cove which was heavily screened by overhanging bushes and willow trees. Not until we had crept up very close, did we distinguish the outline of a houseboat.
Ralph whistled twice, and a shadowy figure appeared in the doorway of the shanty boat. A lantern was lighted, and by its glow, I could observe the other man. I recognized him as one of the three men who’d gotten out of the car and walked past us the day Flo and I had hidden in the bushes outside the laundry.
Ralph boarded the boat, still carrying the paper bundle and the thermos flask.
We crept closer. The houseboat scraped the high bank as it floated, and we were able to see into one of the windows. In the room which was lighted, three men—the same three I’d seen that day from the bushes—sat at a table eating food brought by Ralph. It was not what I’d expected to see. It seemed that Ralph had not intended the contents of the bundle and the thermos flask for a prisoner after all.
“It looks as if Ralph is just giving a few of his friends a treat,” whispered Florence. “The joke is on you.”
Flo started to creep back up the bank, but I grabbed hold of her ankle and held on tight.
“Look at the walls of that room, Flo!”
“What about them?”
“They are papered with sheets from a mail order catalog!”
“That’s so.”
“And notice the porch.”
“Petunias growing in a flower box,” Florence observed.
“They’ve not been watered in quite some time—perhaps, not since Mud Cat Joe’s Empress disappeared.”
“You think this is his missing boat?”
“It certainly looks like it.”
“But all houseboats are similar,” Florence said. “Besides, this one is painted blue, and Joe said The Empress was covered in tar paper.”
“What if it’s been painted to disguise its appearance?”
I guessed that we’d seen all there was to see, so I let Flo go, and we quietly retreated from the banks of the stream. When we were a safe distance away, we paused.
“I might be mistaken,” I said, “but this boat fits Mud Cat Joe’s description of The Empress. We ought to notify him at once.”
“He’s received so many false clues already,” Florence protested, “but I’m willing to go back if you wish.”
“Let’s hurry then before the boat vanishes again.”
Despite our haste, it took more than a half hour to reach the Gains cottage. Mud Cat Joe had just finished his supper when Bouncing Betsy drove into the yard. He came outside to meet us.
“I’ll git right down there and have a look at ’er,” he said when we told him what we’d seen.
“Perhaps we ought to go with you,” I said.
I suggested that he ride along in Bouncing Betsy, but he declined, pointing out that unless we
drove him all the way back, he would have no way of getting home.
“I kin git down there almost as quick in the rowboat,” he insisted. “Current’s runnin’ swift.”
Mud Cat launched the rowboat, Flo and I clambered aboard, and Joe steered for the middle of the river. He bent to the oars, and we were soon moving quickly.
I looked across the river at Old Mansion. A few lights glowed in the windows. The house had a deceptive appearance of peace and tranquility.
The night was cold and penetrating. A breeze rippled the water and sent a chill through Flo and me. We had neglected to bring wraps.
Coming at length to the tributary, Mud Cat Joe steered the boat into the narrow stream. I knew we must be drawing close to the cove where we had seen the houseboat.
We swung around a bend. I leaned forward, and whispered to Joe, “This was the place.”
“But there’s no houseboat here!” Florence said. “What in the world became of it?”
I feared I might have been mistaken on the location, so I asked Mud Cat to row farther up the stream, but it soon became obvious that it was not that I had been mistaken. The boat had vanished.
“This ain’t the first time I’ve had a wild goose chase lookin’ fer that houseboat,” Joe said. He was trying hard to be cheerful, but missing the mark by a mile.
“But it was here an hour ago,” I said.
Mud Cat Joe headed the boat toward the Grassy River once more. It would be a hard row back to the cottage where I’d parked Bouncing Betsy. It might be midnight before we arrived home. As for Joe, he was worn out from his long day on the river, and our failure to find his beloved houseboat seemed to have depressed him. He rowed in gloomy silence.
When we reached the mouth of the tributary, Mud Cat steered out into the main stream, setting his course at an angle across the Grassy. Florence and I huddled together to protect ourselves from the wind. I had fallen into a miserable drowsiness when there was an abrupt break in the smooth rhythm of Mud Cat’s rowing.
I sat up. Joe stowed his oars and peered out across the dark, swirling waters.
“Jest fer a minute, I thought I seen somethin’ in the water,” he said. “Reckon it must have been a big fish.”
Sinister Goings-on in Room Seven: A Jane Carter Historical Cozy (Book Two) (Jane Carter Historical Cozy Mysteries 2) Page 10