Jane Carter Investigates: Episode Twenty-Four
Flo lifted me up to look through the window, but it was an
exercise in futility.
“The kitchen is deserted,” I reported.
“What do you suppose became of Emma?”
“I’m feeling very uneasy. It was so strange the way she broke off
our conversation.”
“Yes, and all the talk about mysterious disappearances from room
seven,” Florence added. “Wouldn’t it be dreadful if anything had happened to
Emma? It would be our fault for bringing her here.”
“Don’t say such a thing, Flo. Emma must be all right.”
“I don’t feel like returning home unless we are certain of it.”
“Neither do I. Let’s try Thom Vhorst. Maybe he knows something.”
The café owner was busy refilling the coffee urn when we walked
in. We sat at the counter and ordered two pieces of pie.
“Gettin’ to be regular callers in our town, aren’t you?” Mr.
Vhorst said.
“We came to see our friend next door,” I explained. “Only Mrs.
Conrad wouldn’t let us talk with her.”
“You don’t say? Reckon maybe she’s a mite upset this morning.”
“Upset? About what, may I ask?”
“Well,” said Thom Vhorst, vigorously polishing the coffee urn, “I
wouldn’t know, but folks say things have been happening in that house.”
“You mean the disappearance?”
“Yes, I reckon maybe Mrs. Conrad is worried for fear the police
may come around and ask a few questions.”
“Why don’t you report the matter, Mr. Vhorst?”
“Not me! It’s none of my business. Anyway, I ain’t sure that
anything happened—things just look mighty odd.”
I took a bite of pie as I studied the café owner’s reflection in
the mirror behind the counter.
“Mr. Vhorst,” I said, “I don’t suppose you noticed a car drive up
at Old Mansion yesterday?”
“Gray one, wasn’t it?”
“I imagine so. Mr. Harwood, an acquaintance of my father’s, came
here to see the Conrads. He’s a middle-sized middle-aged man with an energetic
gait. Yesterday he was wearing a brown suit.”
“Sure, I saw that fellow go into the mansion, but I never did see
him come out.”
“You don’t mean something happened to him!” Flo said.
“No, I’m not sayin’ anything like that. For all I know, he may
have driven off during the night. His car set out front till around midnight,
after that I went to bed, and when I opened up this morning, the car was gone.”
“What time do you open the café?
“Yesterday it was just before seven.”
“The man may have left town early,” I suggested, although I didn’t
think it very likely.
“Yes, reckon that’s what happened,” Mr. Vhorst said.
“Have you seen anything of our friend Emma?” Flo asked.
“I seen her hanging up a washing not an hour ago.”
“Then I guess nothing too dreadful has happened,” I said when
Florence and I were back outside. “Emma must be all right if Mr. Vhorst saw her
hanging out washing. As far as Mr. Harwood is concerned, I don’t know what to
think.”
“Thom Vhorst distrusts the Conrads so greatly that I judge he’s
apt to jump to conclusions,” Flo said. “But he certainly was hinting that Mr.
Harwood had disappeared mysteriously.”
“I thought so at first, and then he denied it. I really believe we
can’t go much by what Mr. Vhorst does say.”
“We might drop in at the laundry and ask a few questions.”
“No, that fellow Ralph may be a Sheik, but he still gives me the
heebie-jeebies,” I said. “I doubt that he would know anything, and if he did,
he’d not be likely to tell us.”
We sauntered back to Bouncing Betsy, uncertain of what to do next.
I glanced at the upper story of Old Mansion.
“There she is now, Flo!”
Emma was standing by the window of her room, half hidden by the
curtain. She was frantically signaling to us.
“What is she trying to tell us?” Florence asked.
“I think she wants us to stay put. I do believe she intends to sneak out of the house and meet us.”
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