Jane Carter Investigates: Episode Fourteen
The café proprietor disappeared into the kitchen with half of my
supper. Glen Conrad loitered near our table. He picked up a newspaper and
pretended to read it.
Thom Vorst wordlessly returned a few minutes later with a fresh
plate of biscuits. I guess he’d realized that he’d run off with my supper
halfway through the meal.
Flo and I ate as slowly as possible, hoping that Mr. Conrad might
be called away or give up and leave, but neither happened and, after the third
cup of coffee, we paid our bill and left.
I let the screen door slam loudly behind us, clattered down the
wooden steps and then lingered at the bottom.
“Let’s wait a minute,” I whispered to Flo. We crept to the side of
the building where I’d spotted an open window and listened.
“Up to your old tricks, eh Thom?” Mr. Conrad was saying.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mr. Vorst said.
“Oh, yes, you do. I heard what you were telling those women.
You’re trying to ruin our tourist business—that’s what you’re doing.”
“It ought to be ruined,” Thom retorted.
“Let me tell you something, you tend to your own business and let
me tend mine! Get me? If you don’t—”
We never got to hear Mr. Conrad’s threat. The screen door creaked
on its hinges and slammed shut. Then we heard Mr. Conrad greeting another
customer.
“Well, we learned very little, after all,” Florence said as we
loitered on the street. Neither of us was eager to go back to Old Mansion. “I
wonder what Thom intended to tell us?”
“I mean to go back there when the coast is clear, and question
him,” I said. “It’s plain to see Thom and Glen are enemies, but even so, it
strikes me that something is decidedly wrong at Old Mansion. Otherwise, Glen
wouldn’t be so afraid of the café owner spreading gossip.”
“All the mystery seems to center around room seven.”
“Yes, I’d like to take another look at that room, but I suppose
it’s impossible. Mrs. Conrad will be on her guard.”
“I feel uneasy about Emma remaining here.”
“Oh, I don’t imagine there is any cause for real alarm,” I said.
“Maybe we’ll have another chance to talk to Mr. Vhorst before we leave
tomorrow.”
Dusk had fallen, and we stood for a moment watching the dark,
swirling waters of the Grassy River. As a motor boat laboriously plied its way
upstream, tiny wavelets pounded against the stone supports of the old mansion.
Along the far shore, I noticed several houseboats which had been tied up in
sheltered coves.
“All houseboats look the same to me,” Flo said. “I don’t think I’d
recognize Mud Cat’s stolen property if it came floating right before my eyes.”
“I’m afraid Mud Cat will never see his Empress again,” I said.
We entered Old Mansion through the kitchen door. Emma was washing
the supper dishes, and we lent her a helping hand.
“I’m tired enough to drop,” said Emma, when the last pan had been
scoured. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go to bed.”
“Let’s all turn in,” said Flo. “There’s nothing to do in this
one-horse town anyway.”
Emma’s room contained a double bed and a narrow, lumpy couch. I
chose the couch. Emma found extra linen and blankets in the hall closet and
loaned us pajamas. By nine o’clock our lights were out.
Long after Florence and Emma were sleeping peacefully, I lay
awake. I wasn’t used to going to bed so early, the couch was uncomfortable, and
the extra two cups of coffee after supper weren’t helping matters any. I
squirmed and twisted, but could not adjust myself.
I’d been lying awake for at least an hour when I heard voices from
another room. Mrs. Conrad was talking to her husband, and in the still house,
the sound carried.
“I don’t care if you don’t like it, Glen,” Mrs. Conrad said. “Emma
stays, and that’s all there is to it! She’s the best worker I’ve ever had. You
know we can’t get anyone here in White Falls.”
“I’ve nothing against the girl,” Glen answered. “But I’m afraid
she may learn things and talk. Already that old fool, Thom Vhorst, is trying to
start trouble again.”
“What’s he up to now?”
“Trying to tell them friends of Emma’s about room seven. But I
shut him up before he spilled the beans.”
“Glen, I’m afraid. We might get into real trouble—”
“Forget it, you always were the worrying kind. Go to sleep now.”
The voices died away, and the house became quiet. I lay with eyes
wide open, staring into the darkness. I made up my mind to try and get Emma to
give up her position in the morning. I rolled over and tried to sleep. I was
just drifting off when I was aroused again by a creaking sound.
I sat up and listened. There was another creaking, like a foot
stepping upon a loose floor board. The noise came from the opposite side of the
hall. I tried to make myself believe that it was nothing unusual, that any old
house was likely to produce strange sounds, yet the feeling persisted—someone
was walking about in room seven!
Unable to endure the suspense, I rolled off the couch and tiptoed
to the door. I opened it and listened. Everything was still for a moment, and
then I heard the creaking noise once more.
There was someone in room seven.
Emma and Florence were sleeping. I considered waking them and
decided against it.
I slipped into Emma’s robe, then stole down the hall, pausing
before room seven. I listened again, and hearing no movement within, cautiously
twisted the knob.
The door swung back to reveal an empty room. Moonlight streamed in
through the windows, throwing a ghost-like pattern on the carpet and across one
of the paintings.
I shivered and drew Emma’s robe more closely around me. I was
experiencing a most uncomfortable feeling that I was not alone in the room. Yet
the bed chamber appeared to be quite empty.
Three of the pictures were shrouded in darkness. A moonbeam shone
full on the fourth painting, the likeness of the man in the red cap, and the
flickering light made his face appear remarkably lifelike. The eyes were
luminous and appeared to focus on me.
My curiosity evaporated. I felt only an urge to escape.
I backed slowly toward the door, my gaze fastened on the painting.
Then, without warning, I was grasped firmly by the shoulders.
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