Cherry Ames Boxed Set 13-16

by Helen Wells

  Pell answered, listened, and barked into the phone: “No, I can’t see you! … I’m very sorry, Mr. Ogden, but I can’t help it if you are waiting in the lobby. … No, you can take up that matter with Mr. Foye. What? … I said no!” And Pell hung up with a bang.

  He put on his courteous smile again and continued his eloquent sales talk to Cherry. After a few sentences, Pell broke off. A man was shouting in the anteroom. Miss Black was shrilly arguing back, trying to prevent him from seeing Pell. The door burst open, and an angry, youngish man stamped into Pell’s office.

  “I’m John Ogden, and you will talk to me, Mr. Pell!” He was fighting mad. Cherry was surprised—he looked like a man who usually would be friendly and self-controlled, a stable looking man, well dressed, probably a small town businessman, probably married and the father of two or three small children, and a good member of his community. Yet here he was shouting and advancing on Pell.

  “You’re going to give me my money back! If you think you’re going to get away with swindling me, Pell, I’ll see you in jail first!”

  Pell looked contemptuously at John Ogden. “You can’t walk in here and slander me, sir. I’m busy with this young lady, my client—and do you think I enjoy having her listen to your abuse and lies about me?” Pell turned to Cherry with an aggrieved air. “There are always a few stupid, hysterical ones, Miss Ames.”

  “Let her hear!” Ogden exclaimed. “Let her find out what a swindle the Pell Plan is. Either you pay me, or I’ll go to—”

  “Now, Mr. Ogden, there must be a misunderstanding,” Pell said smoothly, but Cherry saw him flush. “Mr. Foye can explain—”

  “Mr. Foye has dodged me for two weeks now! Maybe you can explain that!” John Ogden talked fast, steadily raising his voice whenever Pell tried to interrupt him. “I know Foye has been in Peoria, my town, because Foye called a friend of mine last week and this week on Thursdays. Why not me, too? Because Foye can guess I have a complaint, that’s why!”

  “I’ll speak to Foye about seeing you—” Pell broke in, but John Ogden cut him short.

  “Why didn’t you send me a weekly dividend check this week? And last week? How come you sent me a ten percent dividend check every Thursday for four weeks—and now nothing but excuses? And you have the impudence to bombard me with your sensationally worded ‘special bulletins,’ trying to pressure me into handing over still more money! What do you take me for—a fool?”

  Cherry realized exactly the same thing had happened to Peggy Wilmot: four checks, then no more dividends, but a come-on to invest further. Pell loudly started to talk about “this temporary emergency.” John Ogden drowned him out:

  “There’s no emergency! I might have believed that, except I found out one thing. Do you know who Joe Travers is? He’s a friend of mine, and now a customer of yours. After Foye came to Peoria and sold me on the Pell Plan, and the dividends rolled in, I referred Foye to my friend, Joe Travers. I’m ashamed to admit your salesman talked me into introducing him around. … No, Pell, you keep quiet! I can see you don’t want this girl to hear me, but you’ll both hear me!”

  Cherry made no move to leave. Pell whispered to her, suggesting she wait in the anteroom. John Ogden overheard and blocked the doorway.

  “Maybe you can explain, Pell, why Joe Travers received his dividend checks—and I didn’t receive anything! Is there really an emergency, if you can pay Travers? You paid him his second dividend check last week and his third check this past Thursday—but you paid me nothing! Are you playing favorites among your clients? Or are you planning to pull the same trick on Joe Travers as you did on me, as soon as you let him have his fourth dividend check?” Ogden snorted and leaned across Pell’s desk. “I checked with Joe Travers. You didn’t tell him there’s an emergency! Emergency, indeed! This is a trick to keep, to steal, sixty percent of the money I invested with you—and I’m here to get it back!”

  “Calm down,” Cleveland Pell said with authority. “This is a delay, nothing more. If you had more experience in investments, Mr. Ogden, you’d realize a delay is nothing to get excited about.”

  “I’m not an expert in the investment field, Mr. Pell, but I happen to know my rights under the law,” Ogden retorted. “I want to withdraw my account, and I demand that you return my investment at once, minus the four dividends which you already paid me.”

  Pell began to sweat. His face turned damp and dark red as his temper rose. He kept his voice even and persuasive, though.

  “If you insist, Mr. Ogden, all right. But you’ll regret it. I give you my word of honor that Mr. Travers’s situation has nothing to do with yours—”

  “—except to build up a sucker’s confidence with four fat dividend checks!” John Ogden exploded. “How come these new businesses you claim you’re investing in aren’t listed on the stock market—no bonds listed for them—not in any directory or news report? Do these businesses even exist?”

  “They’re new, sir, that’s all, and I must remind you that you have no right to slander me!” Pell drew a deep breath. His hands trembled. “Listen to reason, man. This is no time to withdraw! You’re making a mistake. This, of all times, is the moment of opportunity! The very time to reinvest your four dividend checks! We can triple and quadruple your money—”

  “Let’s see your books!” Ogden challenged him. “Let’s have some proof of how you’re handling my money!”

  But Pell naturally saw to it that actual figures on his transactions were “not readily available. To tell you the truth—and this is confidential, Mr. Ogden, Miss Ames—our bookkeeping system has almost collapsed under a terrific flood of investors. I mean, our books are incomplete—”

  Ogden snorted. “Some excuse! Then let’s see the shares you bought for me in these new companies. Surely you have some sort of documents?” Ogden turned to Cherry and said, “I want to make sure this dealer and counselor doesn’t simply take our money and pocket it himself, and not make any investment with it.”

  Pell let out a yell of rage. He instantly caught himself. “The shares and receipts are in this corporation’s safe-deposit box in the bank vault. You know the bank is closed over the weekend. Come back next week and I’ll show you—”

  “What bank?” Ogden demanded. “The First National Bank of Chicago on which you draw your dividend checks? Or are you cagey enough to rent a safe-deposit box in some other bank?”

  “I don’t have to tell you that!” Pell shouted. His veneer of manners dropped away. He reminded Cherry of a snarling dog. “Nobody knows my business but myself! I expect you to rely on my discretion—”

  “You have no right to be secretive with my money!” Ogden answered angrily. “You’re even secretive about your address, aren’t you? I’m tired of your lies and evasions! I withdraw my account,” Ogden said flatly. “I want my money back right away.”

  “Now, be reasonable, you can’t descend on me without warning and demand a large sum,” Pell protested. “This corporation’s funds are tied up—”

  Cherry thought of the cash, thousands of dollars, she had seen lying around loose here—and the uncashed checks from clients—and how much more was stashed away somewhere? Pell went on with a variety of well-framed excuses. He sounded tense but did a good piece of acting. The man from Peoria was adamant.

  “Now, Mr. Pell!” he said. “Right now.”

  “These new businesses will go sky-high before they reach their top earnings,” Pell urged. “Don’t worry, Mr. Ogden! Hang on and buy more!”

  “You aren’t getting another cent from me—quit trying! Pay me, or I’ll go straight from here to the police and lodge a complaint against you!”

  Pell slumped and was silent. After a moment he muttered, “All right. All right. If you insist, Mr. Ogden. I’ll have my secretary look up what balance is in your account, and make out your check to you in that amount.” He sighed. “You’re making a mistake, sir.”

  Cherry was about to say she wanted exactly the same refund arrangement for her patient, when
Pell turned to her with the most urgent look on his face.

  “Stay another minute, Miss Ames, I have something extremely important to ask you privately.”

  Some curiosity, or some hunch, prompted Cherry to nod and remain seated in her chair.

  John Ogden stood waiting at the doorway. “How do I know your refund check won’t be worthless, Pell? I want a certified bank check from you.”

  Pell moved forward, as if he might strike Ogden, but apparently remembered his other potential client still sitting here.

  “A certified bank check will be fine with me, Mr. Ogden,” Pell said stiffly. He came around, opened the door, and all but pushed Ogden into the anteroom. “I’ll be with you and Miss Black in a couple of minutes.” Pell slammed the door closed.

  He hurried back to sit down beside Cherry again.

  “Listen, Miss Ames,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “I hope you didn’t take Ogden’s ranting and raving seriously. Jim Foye warned me that Ogden is a crackpot. Please, I beg you, Miss Ames, don’t let his hysterics keep you from going ahead with your own highly profitable investments.”

  So, even in the face of Ogden’s threats to report him, Pell still was making a fast play for a brand-new sucker named Cherry Ames.

  “Miss Ames, where can I reach you later today? Or possibly tomorrow?”

  Cherry hesitated. It probably was safe enough to tell him the name of her hotel. “I’m staying at the Croydon, Mr. Pell. But I’d like to finish my business, or rather Mrs. Wilmot’s business with you right now, just as Mr. Ogden is doing. She’s withdrawing her account, too.”

  “The Croydon. All right, my dear young lady. Will you come out to the anteroom, too, and Miss Black will help you with Mrs. Wilmot’s account.” Cleveland Pell led the way to the door, to open it for Cherry. With his hand on the knob, he said very low, “I must see you later. Without Ogden. It’s to your benefit, I promise you. Er—you won’t mention our appointment to Ogden, will you?”

  Cherry smiled and said nothing. She did not have to keep any appointment with Pell if she decided not to, but it never hurt to keep channels open. Pell seemed satisfied. He opened the door, and they walked into the anteroom where the stylish secretary was arguing with Ogden. She was confused by now, as well as hostile.

  “I can’t make this stupid woman understand,” Ogden protested to Pell. “Tell her to look up my account. I know how much you owe me—” He named a large sum.

  Pell ignored him and said to Miss Black, “Have you the briefcase ready for me? … Good.” He picked up a bulging briefcase. Cherry noticed the secretary’s desk was cleared of its checks, cash, and papers. “Now, Miss Black,” Pell said, speaking slowly and emphatically, “I want you to look up the accounts of John Ogden and Margaret Wilmot, and copy off a transcript of each for me—take your time, make it accurate—don’t hurry. Because early next week I’m going to send these clients each a check for these amounts.”

  The secretary’s mouth opened in surprise. Cherry thought she saw a flicker of alarm in the woman’s hostile eyes. Miss Black mumbled, “Yes, sir,” and started to fish in the drawers of a filing cabinet. Mr. Pell excused himself to Cherry and John Ogden, and started back into his office.

  “A certified bank check,” Ogden reminded him. “Or I turn you in. And sue you.”

  Pell said bitterly, “Be careful how you talk to me! How would you like me to come down to your town, and tell all your business associates what a greedy fool you’ve been about investments? Why, I could make you a laughingstock and ruin your business standing.”

  “If you’re threatening blackmail, Pell—”

  “Seems to me you’re making the threats,” Pell retorted.

  “I don’t like your hinting at blackmail,” Ogden said angrily. “I’ve half a mind to go straight from here to the State Securities Division—”

  “Go ahead,” said Pell. “I’ve applied there for registration as an investment adviser, I’m happy to be investigated, I have nothing to hide.” Pell bowed slightly toward Cherry. “I’ll be with you and Mr. Ogden in a few minutes. I have some other matters to attend to. Miss Black, call me when you have the two transcripts ready.”

  He started to close the door after him, but Ogden said sharply, “Leave that door open!” Pell smiled half-humorously, and left it just slightly ajar.

  The secretary fumbled for a long time in the filing cabinet. She searched through untidy folders, rejected some, then rejected others. Ogden paced up and down. Cherry listened for sounds from Pell’s private office—about all she could hear was the opening of desk drawers. The phone rang in there, and Pell called, “Miss Black, will you answer on your phone?”

  Whatever the phone call was about, it took several minutes. John Ogden looked ready to explode with impatience. When the secretary hung up, then dawdled over making notes of the call, Ogden exclaimed:

  “Why in the world are you taking so long, Miss Black? If I don’t get some satisfaction quickly around here, from either you or Pell, I’m going to the law.”

  “Oh!” Miss Black’s mascaraed eyes flew open. She turned away quickly, so that neither Cherry nor Ogden could see her face. Over her shoulder she said sullenly, “Well, you don’t have to yell at me, it’s not my fault. I’m only doing what Mr. Pell told me to do.”

  Cherry said, “Yes, I noticed he told you not to hurry, take your time. Mr. Ogden, I don’t hear a sound from the other office. What do you suppose is taking Mr. Pell so long?”

  “We’ll go and find out,” Ogden said.

  He pushed the door open. Pell was gone. The briefcase was gone. Cherry saw that desk drawers and file drawers, left standing open, were emptied. “There was a great deal of cash in these drawers,” she said to John Ogden. “I saw wads of hundred-dollar bills.”

  Ogden stood perfectly still, shocked. The air conditioner whirred loudly. Then he opened the other doors, one by one. Pell was not in the closet nor in the bathroom. The door into the adjoining room was locked from the other side, as well as from this side, by a permanent lock and panel installed by the hotel. This meant another tenant, not Pell, occupied the next room. Ogden opened the last remaining door that led into the hotel corridor, and peered out.

  “No sign of him,” Mr. Ogden said. “He slipped away from us.”

  “Pell even took his silver flask along,” Cherry said. “I guess he doesn’t intend to come back here.” She turned to Ogden. “But what about his records and correspondence and documents? He’ll need those—won’t he have to come back for those?”

  “Pell can send the secretary or a hotel bellboy for them,” Ogden said, staring around the room. “Or maybe he doesn’t need them. A lot of them may be fakes. Did you see the messy condition of the secretary’s file? Could be nothing at all of value in that file. A swindler like Pell carries his figures around in his head.”

  “And he carries his clients’ money around in his pockets and briefcase,” Cherry said. “Do you know Pell slipped out of here just now with tens of thousands of dollars?”

  “Come on,” said Mr. Ogden. “We’re going to get help.”

  On leaving they discovered Miss Black, too, had fled.

  CHAPTER VIII

  Manhunt

  “WHERE ARE WE GOING?” CHERRY ASKED. THEY WERE OUT on the street in front of the hotel. It was a quarter to eleven, and John Ogden hailed a taxi.

  “We’re going to the Illinois Securities Division,” he answered. “Get in, Miss Ames,” and he gave the driver a West Randolph Street address. The taxi started off. Ogden leaned back and muttered, “I should have had sense enough to be wary of a high-pressure salesman and get-rich-quick promises.”

  “A patient of mine—I’m a nurse—is having the same experience as you are,” Cherry said. “Four dividends, and now nothing. Did you answer an ad? And later did the salesman call?” John Ogden nodded. “By the way, Mr. Ogden,” Cherry asked, “how did you find out Cleveland Pell’s address?”

  John Ogden grinned. “I collared Foye in my friend Traver
s’s office, day before yesterday, and threatened to take him to the police on a charge of fraud. Foye didn’t want any trouble, so he told me to see his boss and gave me Pell’s address. Oh, here we are.”

  The taxi pulled up before a government building. John Ogden insisted on paying the fare, and helped Cherry out. They went into the building, and while Ogden spoke to a receptionist, Cherry looked at a leaflet explaining the work done here. The Securities Division of the office of the Secretary of State for Illinois protected all Illinois investors by requiring two things:

  One, securities or investments had to be registered, so this office could examine them and learn whether they were for honest or fraudulent businesses. It was illegal to sell unregistered securities.

  Second, every person who acted as an investment adviser or salesman of investments must apply for registration. This meant he would take an examination and would be investigated for honesty and qualifications. Once registered, he would be closely scrutinized. Without registration, it was illegal to advise or sell.

  The leaflet urged the public to consult the Securities Division “if you are in doubt as to whether a dealer, salesman, or securities being offered to you are registered.” The leaflet added that the law regulated securities in order to make sure that the investor received something more for his money than a worthless certificate.

  Cherry sighed. If only Peggy Wilmot had asked a few questions before handing over her money!

  John Ogden came back to Cherry and said a skeleton staff was there on Saturday, and they were to see a Mr. Atwood right away. The receptionist took them into a large office where several men were working at their desks, and introduced Cherry and John Ogden to Mr. Atwood, who was an attorney. He seemed to be in charge here.

  “Sit down, please,” he said. “I’m going to call over one of our investigators and an accountant and a stenographer.”

  In a minute or two, these three persons sat down around Mr. Atwood’s desk. They were quiet, intent, and sharp-eyed. The investigators, as well as the examiners, in the Securities Division were all attorneys. “Go ahead,” said Mr. Atwood to his visitors.