“Smart is as smart does. Don’t budge from this house tonight — you won’t be alone, I promise. Tell Cindy she must go to the ball, she declared she would remain on guard here, tell her you know what has happened. Everyone in town who can’t be inside will be on the verandas of the Inn watching the masquerade through the windows. The person who hid the bag in the turret might consider this an opportunity to retrieve it, though something tells me it will stay there for a time unless the thief is tipped off that it has been found. Don’t let her stay at home. Here she com —” He finished the word outside the patio door.
I don’t want the local police in on this yet, he thought, as he started his car he had left outside the garage. We’ll give them the credit but the fewer who know about this at present the better. The hidden jewels tie in with the tip given Ally Barclay to watch The Castle. Who cached them there to divert suspicion from himself or the smugglers? It’s up to me to find out.
At the same moment Cindy appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. “Whose car did I hear?” she inquired. “Where is Bill Damon?'”
“That was him just goin’.”
“Going? Going! Didn’t he leave a message for me? Not a word about what I am to —”
“You needn’t cut off what you was goin’ to say, child. He told me what you found in the old chest along with your costumes.”
“He did? Perhaps he told you what I am to do about it? Then again, perhaps he thinks I’m not capable of doing anything.”
“Quiet down, Cindy. It don’t suit you to be sarcastic. Trust him. He’s got everything under control.”
“He has? Just like that. The masquerade is out. I won’t leave this house till those jewels are turned over to the police. I know he doesn’t think they should be, but I do. And after all, they are hidden in my house.”
“Stop getting’ so het up, Cindy. Sure you’ll go to the masquerade tonight. Mr. Damon said ’twas most important that you and I carry on as usual, as if we didn’t know nothin’, or whoever had landed that stuff there would be hep — that was his word — that we’d found it.”
“Do you think I’ll leave you here alone tonight, Sary? Not a chance.”
“I won’t be alone. I’ve been waitin’ till you stopped boilin’ to tell you I had a phone from my brother askin’ if he could come an’ stay here for a few days. Would you mind?”
“Mind? Of course I wouldn’t mind. Is it Joe, the brother who lives at Grand Manan? I think it’s wonderful. You haven’t seen him for years, have you?”
“No. He hasn’t been very neighborly.” She sniffed. “I wonder what’s bringing him now? I’ll bet he wants to borrow money.”
“Sarah Ann Parker, you hard-boiled wretch. Why wouldn’t he come just to see you? He named his first daughter for you, didn't he?”
“Yes, he did, an’ he always sends me greetin’ cards Christmas an’ Easter. It was mean of me to suspect he had a motive for comin’ other than puttin’ across a lobster deal.” She lowered her voice. “Could you get all the things back in the chest just as you found them, Cindy?”
“Slick as a bug in a rug. I brought Great-Grandmother’s skating costume, plus the skates, down to my room in case I went to the masquerade. I had to re-inter Pocahontas. I intended to convince Colonel Damon that the loot should be out of the house as quickly as I could get the police here. But, I haven’t the courage to buck his decision.”
“You better not. That man knows where he’s goin’. What good will the skates do you with the costume? Not floodin’ the Inn floor with ice, are they, but such crazy things are bein’ done now I wouldn’t put it past the summer folks.”
“The skates are for atmosphere, Sary. Flooding the floor with ice? That gives me an idea. I’ll take —”
“Now who’s at the front door? Ringin’ an’ ringin’ ’s though he thought we was all dead or sleeping.”
“Perhaps it is your brother or — I know. It’s Tom Slade. In the excitement of finding those jewels I forgot we had a tennis date. Coming. Coming,” she called as she raced through the hall. She flung open the front door.
“Enter, Thomas. You’re the perfect answer to this maiden’s prayer.”
She regretted her fervent welcome as additional color swept to his already brightly sunburned face and his eyes darkened. This is the second man I’ve greeted today as if he were a long-lost brother. I hope it isn’t getting to be a habit. He caught her hands in a grip which hurt.
“Is this what freedom does to you? Mean that as it sounds, Cindy?”
She shook her head.
“No, Tom. I’m sorry. I just had an inspiration for a razzle-dazzle entrance at the masquerade tonight and when you appeared you completed the picture. That’s all.”
“It’s something to fit into a picture of which you’re a part, lovely. It might have been Harding or the Damon guy who was elected. How about it, is the tennis game on or off?”
“Off, while we plan a gigantic act, Thomas. Come to the patio while I tell you how we can rock the very walls of the Inn this evening. We’ll have to work like crazy to put it across. Are you with me?”
“I’m sold without knowing what I’m buying. On to the patio. Let’s stop at the kitchen and ask Sary to rustle a couple of her tall, sparkling soda lemonades. Your excitement denotes a sizzling proposition. We’ll need something iced to keep down our temperature.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“WHERE’D you and that Mr. Slade run off to this afternoon?” Sarah Ann Parker inquired of Cindy seated at the glass table in the patio. Candles in tall hurricane lamps gave out a soft yellow light in the rosy dusk. She served a crystal cup heaped with fresh raspberry sherbet and set down a plate of wafer-thin cookies. “When I brought the soda lemonades you were gone.”
“I had a world-shaking idea for the masquerade this evening and we rushed off to get a little practice.”
“What sort of practice? Want to know somethin’, you looked tired to death when you got home. You didn’t stop to change that green linen dress, just had time to wash up for dinner.”
“I’ll be fresh as a daisy after a little rest and a shower. I have loads of time before the party. Did your brother come?”
“Sure. He got here ’bout half an hour before you. He seemed awful glad to see me, made me kind of ashamed I’d suspected he’d come to borrow money. He’s in the kitchen.”
“I’ll stop and speak to him. Did Colonel Damon phone?”
“Yes.” Sarah Ann Parker matched Cindy’s whisper. “He asked for you. When I told him you’d gone off with Mr. Slade, he said. ‘Tell her to be sure,’ that’s the way he said it, ‘sure to go to the masquerade.’ You’d better do as he says, Cindy.”
“I will.”
She sat for a few moments after Sarah Ann Parker had closed the patio door behind her, thinking of the bag in the turret room, of her unsuccessful search for the jewel that had rolled from her lap, of Bill Damon’s insistence that she was not to call the police at present, that she must go to the dance. If the person who had hidden the jewels came for them tonight it was his responsibility — it was hers to see that the thief was caught. Tom Slade would have been surprised if he had known the scheme she had been concocting while apparently absorbed in what he and she were doing.
Gorgeous evening. As she rose from the table she looked up at the blue sky dotted with swansdown fluffs of clouds tinted pink by the afterglow of the sunset beyond the harbor. “Wonderful world!” she said aloud. She stopped to pick a brilliant red rose for her white fur skating cap. Shook her head. Not so good. It would give me away. My friends know that I always wear a flower, fresh or artificial, it’s what the fashion editors call my “signature.” I’d better go in and get started on my crime-detector plan.
She stopped at the kitchen door.
“I am glad you could come for a visit with your sister, Mr. Parker,” she welcomed cordially.
The heavy-set man with a glistening bald spot entirely surrounded by a crew-cut of bristling iron-gray ha
ir rose awkwardly. Had his mannerly response to her greeting been prompted by a kick from Sarah Ann Parker who faced him across the food-laden table at the window? He shuffled his feet. Thrust one hand into his red and black plaid lumber-jacket pocket, took it out, repeated the process with his other. Coughed.
“Thank you, Miss Cinderella. It sure is a treat to get to the mainland. Right kind of you to let me come.”
He speaks like a Canadian. Gives each r all it has, she thought.
“It is a pleasure to have you here. Stay with us as long as you can.” She ignored the violent shake of Sarah Ann Parker’s head. “It must be a treat for you two to be together. Come up when I ring, please, Sary, I may need your help. By the way, in case you should miss them, I’m taking three of my silver cups from the old kitchen. The tennis committee of the Country Club is putting on a members’ Trophy Exhibit.” She nodded to the man who stood as if in embarrassed silence shuffling his feet.
“Have fun in our wild town if you can find it, Mr. Parker.”
“Thank you, Miss Cinderella, but I’m not much of a night owl. At home I go to bed soon’s the chores are done. I hope you have fun. Sarah Ann told me you are going to a party.”
“I am.” She laughed. “With bells on, figuratively speaking. Good night. I’ll ring when I need you, Sary.”
She stepped into the old kitchen, closed the door, drew the painted window shades and snapped on the light in the glass lamp which once had been used for oil. The pumpkin-yellow walls glowed in the light, copper saucepans shimmered like red gold. She caught a side of the cupboard and drew it forward with such care that not even one piece of the mulberry and black Canova on the shelves jiggled.
Had the person who had hidden the bag of jewels in the chest used the steep, narrow stairs behind it to reach the turret room? They looked spooky. Creeping up was indicated. She would have to mount that way when she planted her trap. So what? A private eye didn’t stop for trifles when he started out to get his man, did he? And I intend to get mine or perish in the attempt, she told herself and wondered that she could chuckle over an imagined victory which might prove a tragic reality. Better tackle her plan and not stand here thinking about it.
With three silver trophy cups and one outsize copper frying pan in her arms she crept up the steep narrow stairway examining each step ahead as she went. Not a trace of dust, not a betraying footprint. The person who had hidden the jewels hadn’t gone up or down this way.
On the second step from the top she placed the copper frying pan. Plenty large to accommodate a hasty foot. She swallowed a chuckle as she visualized results. Danger only for the thief. No one else would use these stairs. She backed down cautiously and at strategic intervals parked the silver cups. They would provide an additional alarm if or as the intruder descended. For clamor they would have a police siren licked to a finish.
Back in the kitchen she carefully swung the cupboard into place. Rearranged the remaining silver cups on the shelf above the old oven. Her explanation about the Trophy Exhibition would cancel Sarah’s curiosity anent the vacant spaces.
An hour later she stood before the long mirror in her brilliantly lighted room analytically observing the girl who faced her. A soft briny breeze stirred the dainty muslin curtains between the long sea-green hangings at the two open windows. From the patio rose the strong scent of marigolds, the tinkle of the fountain, the monotonous chirp of crickets and a repetitive “Katy-did! Katy didn’t!”
“Sakes alive, Cindy!” Sarah Ann Parker followed her exclamation into the room. “You gave me a start. Thought your great-grandmother had come to life. You was so long ringing I was ’bout ready to run up an’ see what had happened when the bell sounded. Step away from that lookin’ glass so I can see the whole of you.” She walked around her.
“Want to know somethin’, that full red cashmere skirt with the black velvet bands round it an’ the big pockets each side looks just like a picture in the magazines you’re always bringin’ home. I guess the style has come round again. Wearin’ the panties that go with it?”
Cindy lifted the hem of the skirt that came to the tops of her white skating boots.
“Ain’t they the cutest things? Red like the skirt with narrow white lace ruffles where they bind your knees. Let’s see if they show when you dance, Cindy. Whirl-good.”
She whirled — good — again and again. Sarah Ann Parker nodded approval.
“They do. Awful cunning. You look like a little girl. How’d you happen to have the high boots? They are too big to be your grandmother’s I packed away with those clothes.”
“I’ll say they are. I managed to squeeze my foot into one of hers, but I couldn’t fasten it. This is an old pair. I’m taking red slippers to wear after we unmask. Something tells me that when I dance in this fur jacket I will melt away in the arms of my partner.”
“What you got under it?”
“Just a thin white silk blouse.” Cindy turned back the collar of the coat to demonstrate.
“Where’d you get that string of wax beads?” Sarah Ann Parker adjusted her spectacles and peered. “I’ve never seen it before.”
“One of the shops in the city had a sale of synthetic pearls, wonderful imitations at two ninety-eight plus tax.”
I didn’t say I bought a string, she assuaged an uneasy conscience. I haven’t found the right time to tell her that Ken Stewart sent me the necklace. I couldn’t resist wearing the lovely things. I should have worn them to the dinner last night. I can’t hide them forever. I’m banking on the fact that Lyd Fane will be too busy M.C.’ing the ball to notice them.
“Two ninety-eight? Sakes alive, if they’re handsome as those I’ll buy some for my brother’s girls for Christmas. Who is taking you to the party?”
“Tom Slade.”
“I wish ’twas that Colonel Damon.”
“You’re completely sold on Bill Damon, aren’t you? Doesn’t take a mind reader to discover that he is teacher’s pet in your kitchen, and speaking of kitchens, where’s your brother?”
“He helped me with the dishes then went outside to smoke. I’ll put him in the first-floor bedroom in the ell. Is that all right?”
“Of course it is all right, Sary. Give him a good time and plenty to eat. Make him realize you are glad he came. I thought you weren’t very cordial.”
“I guess I was cordial enough. Don’t want to overdo it or he might make visitin’ us a habit. Gave me a shock when he said he didn’t know how long the lobster deal would keep him here. We don’t have to cross that bridge till we come to it, though. Put on the mask and let’s see how you look.” She tucked a short golden-brown curl under the white fur cap.
“I’d never know you, Cindy, with that thing ’cross your eyes. Here’s the muff on the bed. Now you’re complete. Goin’ to carry your great-grandmother’s skates jingling from your arm like that? Does sort of make the picture perfect. Bright as silver, aren’t they? I polished them the last time I went through that trunk lookin’ for moths. There’s the doorbell. Must be your beau. Goin’ to let him see your costume? Thought it had to be kept secret.”
“Usually it is, but he and I are putting on an act.” She tucked the white satin eye-mask into a pocket of the fur jacket. “Hold my topcoat, please, Sary. The red skirt doesn’t show below it, I hope. I don’t want anyone to get a look at this costume before I reach the Inn.”
Enveloped in a loose black-and-white checked raglan with huge pockets, the hood drawn over her head, she lingered on the threshold.
“Don’t tell anyone, anyone, and that means especially Colonel Bill Damon, what I am wearing, Sarah Ann Parker. He was so cocksure he would recognize me. I want to fool him.”
“Why would I tell and spoil your fun? I was young myself, once. Don’t you stay too late. I’ll be listenin’ for you to come home.”
“I shan’t stay much after midnight. I want to get back. I feel uneasy about — you know what. They might come for that tonight.”
“Forget it, Cindy, and
have a good time. With my brother here do you think a person who wasn’t wanted could get into this house? Joe is an ex-lightweight champion of his town. Go along, he and I will run this ranch. Your beau is ringing again. Get going, Cindy. Have fun, that’s what you’re always tellin’ me.”
“I’ll have fun.” An irresistible laugh rippled. “Something tells me I am about to spring a colossal sensation. The next time you see me, Sary Ann, I bet I will have made the front-page headlines. Wish me luck. I’m off.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“DID YOU GET in touch with the leader of the band, Tom?” Cindy inquired eagerly as Slade’s car slid into the highway.
“I did. After I crossed his palm with moola he was all smiles. He was sure his men wouldn’t know ‘The Merry-go-round Broke Down’ which you and I decided would make a corking entrance tune, but declared they could go to town on ‘The Beautiful Blue Danube.’”
“‘The Blue Danube’ is an oldie, but tops. It will suit us to a T. We practiced the waltz glide to that music at the rink this afternoon.”
“I’ll say we practiced, and — how.”
“The costume you picked up for the masquerade is one hundred per cent perfect for our act.”
“It is a neat number. We were so busy rehearsing I forgot to tell you that your guide, philosopher and friend was in the dry goods emporium while I was there. He didn’t see me, though.”
“And who is my guide, philosopher and friend?”
“Playing cagey, aren’t you? Who but that guy Bill Damon?”
“Did he find a costume? What was it, Tom? Tell me. He was sure he would recognize me.”
“Hey, get back on the beam, lovely. I don’t know. You don’t think I would give him away if I did, do you? He’s a pain in the neck to me, you like him too much, but I’ve got to play fair.”
To Love and to Honour Page 15