The Haunted Carousel

  “Perhaps you should see a doctor, Mr. Novak,” Nancy advised. Then she told him Neil Sawyer’s theory of how the carousel might have been turned on and off by a radio-relay device.

  Leo Novak, however, scoffed at the idea. “No way!” he retorted. “You can take it from me, if any gimmick like that had been planted under the control box, I’d have noticed it.”

  Nancy was not convinced, but didn’t wish to take time to argue. She was eager to find and interview the woman she had seen talking to the carousel operator. Nancy was intrigued by the way she had written something on a card and handed it to Novak, as if asking him to get in touch with her later.

  But why would she do that, Nancy wondered, unless her interest in the merry-go-round was more serious or more important than Mr. Novak cared to admit?

  As she turned away, Nancy caught a fleeting glimpse of the skin under the edge of his eye patch. It seemed dark and swollen. Gee, I wonder if he’s got a black eye? she thought. If so, that might explain his look of embarrassment when she inquired why he was wearing the patch.

  Nancy hurried off, shading her eyes to scan the throng of people milling about the park. But

  the mystery woman was no longer in sight. After searching the amusement park for a while, she gave up with a sigh and glanced at her wristwatch. It was almost 11:30. Uh-oh, Ned may be waiting for me! Nancy reminded herself.

  Sure enough, Ned was in the parking lot. He waved as she approached and got out of his car to greet her with a kiss.

  “How about the Limehouse Tavern for lunch?”

  Nancy smiled. “Fine with me! I’d love some fish and chips.”

  The tavern, not far from Riverside Park, was run by an ex-London cockney and his wife. Nancy and Ned both loved its nautical atmosphere, reminiscent of an English dockside pub, and always found the food delicious.

  As they ate, Nancy asked, “Did you get your fall program straightened out?”

  “Yes, no problem. Which reminds me. Do you remember Professor Jenner?”

  “Of course, you introduced me to him at the May Day Ball. Teaches art history, doesn’t he?” “That’s the guy.” Ned nodded. “He wants me to ask you a favor. Ever hear of an artist named Walter Kruse?”

  “The Western painter and sculptor?”

  “Right—in fact he started out as a cowboy, I hear. Anyhow, the profs writing a book about Kruse . . . and he also caught a TV news report about you tackling the mystery of that haunted carousel.”

  Nancy was amused and slightly bewildered. “I’m not sure I see the connection,” she said with a chuckle.

  “There is one, believe it or not. It seems the news broadcast showed the carousel— including its name, the Wonderland Gallop. And according to Professor Jenner, Walter Kruse once had a girlfriend whose father owned that carousel.”

  Nancy was surprised and charmed by this bit of information. She remembered reading that the artist had passed away a year or two ago. From her impression of Kruse’s age, she guessed that Professor Jenner must be referring to the Wonderland Gallop’s original owner—the man whom Leo Novak had once worked for.

  Ned related that the romance had occurred during a brief period when Walter Kruse was employed as an amusement-park roustabout. Soon afterward, the artist had gone to New York and his work became famous; but for a while he had kept up a correspondence with the carousel owner’s daughter in which he expressed his thoughts about painting and sculpture.

  “That’s what Kruse once told the prof, anyhow,” Ned concluded. “So now that he’s writing a book about him, Professor Jenner would like to see those letters, if the owner’s daughter still has them. And he’s hoping you can help him get in touch with her.”

  “I’ll be glad to try,” Nancy promised. Since Ned had to work that afternoon, he drove Nancy back to Riverside Park, where she had left her car.

  I may as well ask Mr. Novak right now about the owner’s daughter, Nancy reflected. So she strolled through the parking lot toward the amusement-ride area.

  “Oh, Miss Drew!” called a youthful voice.

  Nancy turned and saw a pretty teenage girl with flaming red hair waving at her. The girl was hastily getting out of a sleek, powerful- looking, foreign sports car.

  Nancy guessed at once that she must be Joy Trent—and suddenly, she also realized why Hannah’s description of the redheaded visitor had sounded familiar.

  This was the girl who had waved to her yesterday when she was chasing Fingers Malone toward the Haunted House!

  9. Nocturnal Break-In

  The redheaded girl hurried over to Nancy’s car and said, “I recognized you from your picture in the paper. I’m Joy Trent, Miss Drew. I must seem like an awful pest!”

  “Not at all.” Nancy smiled. “I’m happy to meet you. I understand you have a mystery you’d like me to help you solve.”

  Joy nodded. “It’ll take awhile to tell you about it. Unfortunately, I have a meeting with our family lawyer in about fifteen minutes. Could you possibly come to lunch tomorrow at my house? We don’t live too far from each other.”

  “Of course, Joy,” Nancy assented. “That would be nice.”

  “Besides, we can talk a lot more comfortably there than we can in a parking lot. I live at 52 Sycamore Lane, by the way.” With a grin and a wave of her hand, Joy went back to her car, then turned to call out, “Around twelve be all right?”

  “Fine!” Nancy responded.

  The red-haired girl slid behind the wheel and with a soft, throaty purr from her car’s powerful engine drove out of the lot.

  Nancy watched the sleek, foreign sports model admiringly. Then she walked into the amusement park, hoping to find Leo Novak on duty at his carousel.

  As it turned out, she was in luck. The glumfaced concessionaire looked none too happy to see Nancy. But when he found out she had come to ask him about the former owner’s daughter, his manner loosened up and he talked willingly.

  “Sure, I remember Nina Ogden. Beal pretty girl. She and I were about the same age,” he said nostalgically. “Wouldn’t have minded going out with her myself, but old man Ogden never paid me enough in those days to show her a real good time. Anyhow”—Novak’s lips tightened—“she kind of looked down on me.” The name of the artist, Walter Kruse, how-

  ever, rang no bells in his mind. “I dunno anything about him or any letters he wrote her. All I know is, she got married to some guy she met in college and moved away. Last time I saw her was when Mr. Ogden died. She inherited the Wonderland Gallop, so I bought it from her.” “Do you happen to remember her married name, or where she was living then?”

  Novak frowned thoughtfully, then shrugged and shook his head. “’Fraid not . . . sorry.” Nancy was disappointed that she would not be able to provide Professor Jenner with any useful information. However, she felt that Nina Ogden’s married name and last known address could probably be obtained from the official records of her father’s death.

  The next morning, shortly after breakfast, Nancy received a phone call from an upset Joy Trent. “Our house was broken into last night!” she reported.

  “Oh dear, I’m sorry to hear that, Joy. Was anything taken?”

  “We re not sure yet. My aunt’s checking now. Nancy, could you come a bit earlier than we planned and look into this? Maybe you can help the police in some way.”

  “Of course, if I can,” Nancy said soothingly. “Would eleven be all right?”

  ‘Thanks, that would be great!” Joy sounded relieved as she hung up.

  Nancy had just turned away from the telephone when it shrilled again. This time, her caller was Police Chief McGinnis.

  “I’ve checked out that information for you, Xancy, about any trouble that occurred near the park at the same time the carousel played at night. There’s only one case that fits, and that’s the theft of a boat on the river—it happened just below the hill on which Riverside Park is located.”

  McGinnis added that the theft had occurred during the merry-go-round’s last spooky outbu
rst on Monday night, which was the same night that Nancy and Ned had kept watch.

  “That’s interesting, Chief,” the girl sleuth replied. “I suppose the police have the name and address of the boat owner?”

  “Sure, do you want that information?”

  “Yes, please—it might be helpful.”

  “Well then, here it is. Do you have a pencil and paper handy?” When Nancy said yes, he dictated the information.

  “One last thing, Chief. A friend of mine just told me her house was broken into last night— the Trents on Sycamore Lane. Do you have anything on that?”

  “Hang on, Nancy—I’ll see.”

  A few moments later, the police chief s hearty voice came back on the phone. “Well, well— this may interest you, Nancy! It seems we got an anonymous phone tip about that burglary. The dispatcher sent a police car to the scene, and apparently it interrupted the heist, but the crooks got away.”

  Nancy thanked Chief McGinnis and hung up thoughtfully. “That’s odd,” she said aloud. This was the second time in just a few days that the police had been tipped off about criminals who in some way were involved with her own sleuthing. First had come the phone tip on Tuesday, which Officer Doyle had mentioned, about Fingers Malone and Baldy Krebs being seen in Riverside Park. And now, last night, there was another, about the break-in at Joy Trent’s house. And both tips had proven correct!

  Is there some connection, Nancy wondered, or is all this just a coincidence? The second call, of course, could have been phoned in by some neighbor or even a passerby who did not wish to become involved . . .

  Just then, Nancy heard the clock in the living room begin to chime the hour. She glanced at her wristwatch. Goodness, if she was going to pick up Hannah’s order from the market before going to Joy’s house, she’d have to hurry!

  Quickly changing into a pale yellow linen dress and a pair of white dress sandals, Nancy transferred her wallet, makeup, and keys to a slim, white shoulder bag and set off on her errand.

  Sometime later, having dropped Hannah’s order off at home and left her a note, Nancy was turning up the drive to the Trents’ house. It loomed ahead, beyond the trees and shrubbery—a large, impressive-looking stone mansion with a red tile roof.

  She had just come through an arching entrance gateway when a silver-colored, two-door sedan passed her on its way out. Nancy caught her breath and did a hasty double take. At the wheel of the other car was the same woman she had seen talking to Leo Novak at the amusement park yesterday!

  Nancy parked in the drive, walked up the stone steps of the house, and rang the bell. A smiling, silver-haired butler in a black uniform answered the door promptly and ushered her into a spacious, wide-windowed room with comfortable chairs and a baby grand piano. “Miss Drew, madam.”

  A thin, middle-aged woman, with a disagreeable expression, rose from a delicate writing desk and waved Nancy to a chair. “I’m Joy’s aunt. I expect her back very shortly.”

  “I hope your friend didn’t cut short her visit on my account,” Nancy probed. “I saw a woman driving off just as I arrived.”

  A flash of anger passed over her hostess’s face. “She’s no friend of mine—that troublesome busybody! As far as I’m concerned, she had no business coming here, and I’ve no wish to see her again!”

  10. The Iris Riddle

  Nancy was surprised by the furious way Joy’s aunt responded to her remark, so she did not pursue the matter, even though she was still curious about the visitor’s identity and why she had come to call on the Trents.

  Luckily, the awkward silence that followed was soon broken as Joy’s car was heard pulling into the drive. The red-haired teenager came bursting eagerly into the house, having seen Nancy’s blue sports car parked outside.

  “I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, Nancy!” she apologized breathlessly. “I expected to be back long before you arrived, but I got a flat tire on the way home.”

  “It doesn’t matter a bit, Joy.” Nancy smiled.

  “I’ve only been here a few minutes.”

  “You’ve met my Aunt Selma?”

  “Well, yes—though I didn’t catch her name.” “Mrs. Yawley,” said Joy, performing a belated introduction. “Aunt Selma, this is Nancy Drew, the famous girl detective. I’m hoping she can help me figure out Daddy’s last message.” The woman inclined her head and shook hands coldly. “I’m never sure it’s wise to discuss family affairs with outsiders,” she murmured with an air of disapproval. “I trust you know what you’re doing, Joy.”

  Without giving either her niece or Nancy time to respond, Mrs. Yawley turned and left the room.

  Joy sighed but managed to grin at Nancy. “Don’t mind Aunt Selma. She’s nicer than she seems. The only trouble is, she treats me like a little, backward child who can hardly be trusted to cross the street by herself.”

  Nancy wondered if this meant Mrs. Yawley was Joy’s guardian, but refrained from asking. Instead, she changed the subject and brought up last night’s break-in.

  Joy related that the burglars had evidently entered the house through a basement window, but had stumbled in the dark while coming upstairs. The noise had awakened the butler, who slept on the ground floor. When he went to in-

  vestigate, she said he was overpowered by two :nen in ski masks. One clamped a hand over the butler’s mouth to prevent any outcry while he was being tied and gagged.

  “After that, he could hear them moving around in different parts of the house,” Joy went on, “but the police got here about ten minutes later. I guess the robbers must have heard the scout car pulling up outside. Anyhow, they both got away without being seen or caught.”

  “Do you know what was stolen?” Nancy asked.

  “Nothing—that’s the funny part of it!”

  “You’re quite sure?”

  “Oh yes, Aunt Selma checked over every room.”

  “Hm, that is odd.” Nancy frowned slightly. “Was anything out of place? Or was there any sign of ransacking—I mean, like drawers or cabinets being opened?”

  Joy shook her head. “Not that any of us noticed. Why?”

  “I just wondered if they might have been searching for valuables—you know, like taking inventory first, deciding what to steal—but they got interrupted by the police before they could scoop up the loot.”

  “Oh yes, I see what you mean. But there was

  no sign of that. In fact, there were valuables in plain sight—like those silver candlesticks on the mantel—that they didn’t even bother with.’’ “Have you any idea who called the police?” Joy shrugged. “Not really. I just assumed they were patrolling the neighborhood and noticed something suspicious.”

  “No, they responded to a phone tip,” Nancy said. “I have that from the police chief.”

  Joy was surprised by this information and looked thoughtful. “You know, Nancy, this may not be important, but I have a hunch I was followed home yesterday after I met you at the park.”

  “You mean another car followed yours?” “Yes, I kept seeing it in my rearview mirror, even though I made several turns.”

  “Did you notice the license number?”

  “No, I didn’t even think of that,” Joy said regretfully. “It was a dark blue car, and there was a man at the wheel. He zoomed on past after I turned off into our drive, so I never even got a good look at him.”

  Joy Trent had been showing Nancy around the house while she told her about the break-in. But now the two girls settled themselves on a sofa in the sitting room to chat and get better acquainted.

  Joy revealed that she was an only child, and an orphan, as Nancy had guessed. Her father, John Trent, who sounded like a hard-driving business executive with little time to spare, had died several months ago. Yet, despite his busy schedule, he had evidently been devoted to his daughter and had lavished a good deal of attention on her.

  Joy could not even remember her mother, who had died when Joy was a mere toddler. But the little girl had enjoyed a fond, close relation
ship with her father. Otherwise, she had been brought up by a succession of housekeepers and governesses until recently, when Mr. Trent’s sister—Joy’s Aunt Selma—became widowed and moved in to live with them.

  Nancy was still intrigued by the identity of the mystery woman, whom she had first seen at the park talking to Leo Novak, and then driving away from the Trents’ house this morning. Could Joy’s own visit to the park have had something to do with all this? Nancy wondered.

  In view of Aunt Selma’s harsh attitude toward the woman, she decided it might be better to probe for information in a roundabout fashion, rather than ask a blunt question.

  “By the way,’’ Nancy remarked, “I’m sorry I didn’t respond when you waved to me at the park the other day.”

  “I’m surprised you even noticed me.” Joy

  grinned. “You seemed in quite a hurry.”

  “That’s one way of putting it,” Nancy said with a chuckle. “Actually, I was chasing a crook.” She told the other girl about her adventure with the pickpockets and then asked casually, “Do you often go to the amusement park?” “Not really, though I did when I was little.” A reminiscent smile came over Joy’s face as she went on, “I loved to ride the carousel! Daddy took me there whenever he could. In fact he even bought me my favorite steed on the merry- go-round.”

  “Really?” Nancy was startled; her sleuthing antennae instantly shot up. “How did that happen?”

  “Well, at one time, the carousel moved away from River Heights.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “There was one particular horse on it that I always used to ride,” Joy explained. “It was the lead horse—the most beautiful creature you ever saw! When I found out the merry-go-round was about to be taken away, I was brokenhearted. So Daddy made a deal to buy the horse from the carousel owner and wrote him out a check then and there!”

  Nancy’s blue eyes twinkled. “You must have been a very pleased little girl!”

  Joy laughed merrily. “Oh, you’ve no idea! It nappened that the next day was my birthday. Daddy ordered a van to come and pick up the horse in time for my party, and my birthday celebration started right there at the park. It was quite an occasion!”