Jane Carter Investigates: Episode Nineteen
“Oh, it takes so long to explain all the details,” I said. “Well,
settle back in your chair, Dad, because it’s a lengthy tale.”
However, before I could get started, an office boy came to tell
Mr. Carter that a man by the name of Frank Harwood wished to see him.
“Harwood? I don’t know anyone by that name. Well, send him in.”
“I suppose that’s my cue to evaporate,” I said, getting up from my
chair.
“No, stay if you wish. If the man is here to see me about anything
confidential, I can send you out.”
“That’s just when I’d like to stay. Maybe I could hide behind the
filing cabinet.”
“You’re forgetting that you’re not the heroine of one of those
melodramatic serials you insist on squandering your literary talents on,” Dad
said. “Just sit in that chair and try to look normal.”
The door opened and a middle-sized, middle-aged man in a brown
suit who walked with a quick, energetic stride came into the room. Dad stood up
to shake his hand. He introduced the man to me and offered him the comfortable
leather chair reserved for visitors.
“Well, what may I do for you? You don’t mind my daughter being
here?”
“No, no, not at all. I represent the McClure and Allison firm in
Chicago. You may have heard of us.”
“Oh, yes, the well-known jewelry concern.”
“I came here upon a rather strange mission,” the man continued.
“Do you recall a certain story about our firm which ran in your paper perhaps
ten days ago? It was to the effect that one of the officers of our company had
disappeared with a considerable number of valuable jewels in his possession?”
“Yes, I remember the story. Man by the name of Merriweather,
wasn’t he?”
“Yes, J. D. Merriweather.”
I leaned forward in my chair, but I did not interrupt.
“At first, we were inclined to believe Mr. Merriweather had been
delayed on his trip from New York,” Dad’s visitor continued. “He was traveling
by motor, combining business with pleasure. Then later, when we became alarmed
and tried to trace him, all we could learn was that he was last seen at a
filling station about two hundred miles from here.”
“That was in the story, I believe. Company officials assumed that
Merriweather had stolen the jewels.”
“The man who talked with your reporter over long distance
telephone never should have given out such a statement.” Mr. Harwood frowned.
“Merriweather was a close friend of mine. He was highly respected in the firm.”
“Then you believe that he did not steal the jewels?”
“James Merriweather wasn’t the type of man to resort to theft. He
was well fixed financially and had a wife and two small children. Often he
carried more valuable jewels with him than upon this occasion.”
“Then it is your thought that he met with foul play?”
“Either that or an accident,” said Mr. Harwood. “Merriweather was
a rather careless driver.”
“What quantity of jewels did your friend carry on his person?”
“The firm has estimated the loss at approximately fifteen thousand
dollars. The greater part of this is represented by a pearl necklace.
Merriweather was bringing it from New York for a special customer of ours.”
“The loss was covered by insurance?”
“Yes, we’re not worried upon that account. Our fears concern James
Merriweather. Now my purpose in coming to you was this: since he disappeared
somewhere in this state, or so we believe, we thought your paper might be able
to aid in the search.”
“We’ll give you every possible cooperation,” Dad said. “However, I
should suggest that you engage a detective.”
“We turned the case over to the Pallman-White Agency several days
ago. However, so far they have made no progress.”
“You have talked with the police, I suppose?”
“Yes, but they hold the theory that James Merriweather yielded to
temptation and stole the jewels. The insurance company is working on this angle
too, keeping watch of various places where the jewels might be offered for
sale.”
“I will be very glad to give you any possible assistance,” my
father repeated. “However, I don’t see just what our paper can do. I am willing
to assign a special reporter to the story for a few days.”
“Our firm will appreciate your cooperation.” Mr. Harwood picked up
his hat. “Thank you for giving me so much of your time.”
“Just a minute, please,” I said, standing to my feet. “I think
perhaps I have a clue which might help you.”
Both Mr. Harwood and Dad were startled.
“Did you say that your friend’s initials were, ‘J. D.’?” I asked.
“Yes, that is correct,” Mr. Harwood said.
“I happen to know that a J. D. Merriweather spent a night at a
small hotel in White Falls. The man registered from Chicago.”
“Then that must have been James Merriweather! Where is White Falls?”
“Not far from here, along the Grassy River,” I explained. “The
hotel is run by a Mr. and Mrs. Conrad and is called Old Mansion.”
“Jane, how do you know that Merriweather stayed there?” questioned
my father.
“Because I saw his name on the register.”
“I shall drive to White Falls at once and talk with the Conrads,”
Mr. Harwood said. “Thank you very much for the clue, Miss Fielding.”
I decided not to inform Mr. Harwood that he was speaking to Mrs.
Carter.
“You might telephone us and report what success you have,” Dad
suggested.
“I certainly shall. You may expect a call from me not later than
tomorrow morning. If something important develops, I’ll telephone earlier.”
Dad walked Mr. Harwood to the door and shook hands with him as
they parted. I crossed over to the window and looked down into the street.
“Dad,” I confessed, “I didn’t give Mr. Harwood quite all of my
information. When James Merriweather spent the night at Old Mansion, he was
assigned room seven—the room, according to Thom Vhorst, where a man mysteriously
disappeared!”
Comments
Post a Comment