Jane Carter Investigates: Episode Eighty-Two
Reminded of my original task, I
set to work once more, trying to draw the cameo to the edge of the tank. I was
so deeply engrossed that I jumped as Flo touched my arm.
“Listen, Jane, I think someone is
coming!”
From the path at the right, we
heard approaching footsteps and the murmur of voices.
I struggled to my feet, dropping
the stick.
“We mustn’t be caught here,” I
whispered.
Scarcely had we secreted
ourselves in the shrubbery directly behind the pool when Cybil Furstenberg and
the head gardener arrived in the clearing. They seated themselves on a bench
not far from where Flo and I hid in the bushes.
“I had to talk with you,” Cybil
said to the old man. “The police came this morning and asked so many questions.
Mother put them off, but they’ll be back again.”
“They didn’t learn about the
alligator?” the gardener asked.
“No, they came here, but only
stayed a few minutes. I don’t think they noticed anything wrong.”
“Then that’s all right.”
“Their investigation is only
beginning,” Cybil said. “Mother and I both believe it would be wise to get rid
of the alligator.”
“Wise, but not easy,” the
gardener replied.
“You’ll see what you can do about
it?”
“Yes. I’ll try to get rid of
him.”
“Then I guess that’s all,” Cybil
said, but she made no move to leave.
She sat staring moodily at the
pool.
“Anything else on your mind?”
asked the gardener.
“I—I wanted to ask you something,
but I scarcely know how.”
The gardener waited, watching the
girl’s face.
“You never liked Thomas Atwood,”
she began nervously.
“What are you driving at?” the
man demanded. “You’re not trying to hint that I had anything to do with Thomas
Atwood’s disappearance?”
The two stared at each other, but
Cybil’s gaze was the first to fall.
“No, no, of course not,” she
said.
“I don’t know any more about his
disappearance than you do,” the gardener told her. “I didn’t even see him on
the day of the wedding.”
“But he came here. The wedding
ring was found near the pool. Surely you must have at least heard
something. I know you were in this part
of the garden.”
“Well, I didn’t hear anything,”
the man said sullenly. “The only people I saw were that newspaper photographer
and the young woman who accompanied him.”
“Please don’t take offense,” Miss
Furstenberg murmured, getting up from the bench. “I’ve been terribly upset
these past few days.”
She wandered to the edge of the
pool. There she stopped short, staring down at an object which lay on the
flagstones at her feet. It was the stick which I had dropped only a moment
before.
“What have you found?” the
gardener asked.
He took the damp stick from
Cybil’s hand.
“Someone has been here prying
around,” he said. “This was used to investigate the water in the pool.”
“And whoever it was must be close
by, even now,” Cybil said. “Otherwise the stick would have dried out in the
sun.”
“You go back to the house,” the
man commanded. “I’ll look around.”
Florence and I looked at each other and wordlessly made a swift retreat toward the river.
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