Jane Carter Investigates: Episode Twenty-Seven
Dad pushed a buzzer on his desk. When an office boy thrust his
tousled head in at the doorway, he said: “Send Jack Bancroft here.”
“Dad, isn’t this definitely a case for the police?” I asked.
“Yes, but I’d like to talk with the Conrads before the police take
charge. After an arrest is made, we’ll learn only what the authorities wish to
give out. I plan to accompany Jack over to White Falls immediately.”
“You’ll need me along to show you the house,” I said.
Before Dad could answer, Jack came in.
“You sent for me, Chief?”
Dad disclosed the bare bones of the case.
“Get your hat,” he ordered the reporter. “We’re going over to
White Falls to see what we can learn.”
I acted as chauffeur—Dad doesn’t like to drive—and as we went
along, he explained to Jack additional details of the case.
“We’ll have to handle the story with kid gloves,” he said. “Jane
may have been mistaken in her facts, but if she’s right, this is a chance for a
big scoop.”
We parked in front of Old Mansion. Dad sat in the car for a couple
of minutes, looking at the house, then he went boldly to the door and rang the
bell. Jack and I followed a few steps behind.
After a long wait, Mrs. Conrad responded to the summons. She
scowled when she recognized me.
“Well, what do you want now?” she demanded of me, ignoring my
father.
“My name is Fielding—Anthony Fielding from the Greenville Examiner.” Dad stuck out his hand.
“We’re not talking to any reporters,” Mrs. Conrad snapped. “Go
away and leave us alone.”
She started to close the door.
“Just a minute, Madam,” said Dad. “Either you talk to me, or you
talk to the police.”
“The police—”
“We have reason to believe that two persons have disappeared from
your hotel under decidedly mysterious circumstances, Madam. Will you talk to
us, or shall I send for the police?”
“I’ll see you,” Mrs. Conrad said, “Come in.”
She led us into the parlor. Before we could seat ourselves, Glen
Conrad entered from the kitchen. He glared at his wife.
“I couldn’t help it, Glen. They pushed their way right in. Said if
we didn’t talk with ’em, they’d go straight to the police.”
“So you’re responsible for this, you meddling upstart!” Mr. Conrad
turned on me. “Trying to get us into trouble with the police!”
“You are speaking to my daughter,” said my father. “Let’s omit the
histrionics if you please. Tell us what became of Mr. Harwood.”
“How should I know? He didn’t tell us his business when he went
away from here.”
“And when do you claim he left your house?”
“Yesterday afternoon. He only stayed here a few minutes while he
inquired about a friend of his.”
“I think not,” I said. “Mr. Harwood’s car stood in front of the
house the entire afternoon, as many of your neighbors will testify. During the
night, after the man disappeared from room seven, you hid the car somewhere.”
“That ain’t true,” Mr. Conrad retorted.
“Falsehoods will get you nowhere,” Dad said. “Either you tell us
exactly what happened, or I will go to the police. I’m not inclined to beat
around the bush when a missing person is involved.”
“Oh, Glen, tell ’em the truth,” Mrs. Conrad pleaded. “If the
police come mixing in here, they might take us to jail! And it wasn’t our
fault.”
“Will you keep out of this, Earnestine? It’s your loose tongue
that will get us in trouble.”
But Mrs. Conrad could not be quieted. While her husband listened
in grim silence, she poured out her tale.
“We never did any harm to anybody. Everything was all right until
that man Merriweather came here. He spent the night in room seven. When we went
to call him in the morning, he had disappeared.”
“Why didn’t you report to the police?” Dad demanded.
“Glen said we’d be arrested if we did. We thought we would just
keep quiet about it. But somehow, the news got noised around White Falls. Thom
Vhorst never did like us, and he saw a chance to start trouble. He kept
gossiping. Then that man Harwood came here to inquire about his friend. We
pretended like we didn’t know anything about a man named Merriweather, but he
insisted on staying overnight. Glen put him in room seven.”
“Why room seven?”
“Just to be contrary, I reckon. He knew it would plague me.”
“Then what happened?”
“During the night, Mr. Harwood disappeared just like his friend.
We think maybe they both jumped into the river.”
“Mr. Harwood certainly was not the type to do anything like that,”
Dad said. “Have you had the river dragged?”
“No, we didn’t dare. If we started dragging the river, folks would
know something was wrong.”
“They will realize it anyway,” said my father. “Surely you must
know you can’t keep two disappearances secret. Your failure to report to the
police tends to throw suspicion upon you.”
“You don’t think we had anything to do with it!” Mrs. Conrad
started to cry.
“My opinion does not matter. However, I am afraid that the police
will be inclined to question the story. As I say, your attempt to keep the
matter secret may count heavily against you.”
“But we only did it to protect our business,” Mrs. Conrad wailed.
“No one ever would stop here overnight if they knew about those missing men!”
“I agree with you there.”
“How about taking a look at room seven?” suggested Jack.
“See here,” Mr. Conrad sputtered, “we’ll not have you meddling—”
Dad ignored him and asked Mrs. Conrad to show us to room seven. We
followed her upstairs. While Dad and Jack inspected the room, I slipped away to
find Emma.
“How are things going here?”
“Better, as far as I’m concerned,” Emma replied. “Mrs. Conrad is
so upset; she’s not quite as bossy as before. Will she be arrested?”
“I don’t know, but I assume both she and her husband will be
wheeled off to jail just as soon as Dad reports to the authorities.”
“In a way, it’s a shame,” Emma said. “The Conrads are a fairly
odious pair, but I sincerely believe that they had nothing to do with whatever
went wrong in room seven.”
I hurried back to room seven. Dad and Jack had finished their
inspection, and Mrs. Conrad was locking the door.
“I appreciate your position, Madam,” Dad said. “I can see that
premature publicity, in this case, might actually thwart justice.”
“Then you’ll not go to the police?” Mrs. Conrad pleaded.
“I can make no such promise. However, it is not my present
intention to turn over this information to the authorities for at least
twenty-four hours.”
“I’ll do anything you say if only you’ll not expose us to the
police.”
“I shall expect you to give full cooperation to my reporter, Jack
Bancroft. He may do a little sleuthing around here today.”
“The neighbors may suspect—”
“I don’t see what he expects to learn,” Mr. Conrad said.
“Merriweather and Harwood jumped into the river. It’s as plain as the nose on
your face.”
“A trifle too plain, perhaps,” said my father.
We went back down to Dad’s car for a conference.
“Well, Dad, what did you think of Mr. and Mrs. Conrad?”
“I’m inclined to believe they had nothing to do with Harwood’s
disappearance. But that makes the case so baffling.”
“Will you notify the police?”
“Not immediately. I plan to keep the whole thing dark for
twenty-four hours, and then blow off the lid. There’s something sinister going
on in that hotel, and if we’re lucky enough to learn what it’s all about, we
should scoop every paper in Greenville!”
“Just how are we going to learn what it’s all about?” Jack asked.
“That’s where you come in, Jack, my lad,” he said. “Tonight,
you’re sleeping in room seven!”
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