Snell seemed to stiffen and darted a suspicious glance at the titian-haired teenager. “Of course I’ve seen it. By this time, so has every other ad man in New York. It’s what started this whole scandalous mess that Curry’s gotten himself into. What about it?”
“Are you aware,” Nancy asked, “that Clare Grant was the model who posed for Mr. Curry’s version of that layout?”
“Naturally,” snapped Oliver Snell. “Since I knew Clare and had taken her out a couple of times, as I just got through telling you, I could hardly help recognizing her.”
“Did you know that Dallas Curry sent her a copy of that photograph soon after he took it?” “No, I didn’t know that. Why on earth should I?” Snell asked defensively.
Nancy shrugged. “If you dated Clare twice, you might have come to pick her up. And if she had that layout photo lying around loose in her apartment, you might have seen it.”
Oliver Snell glared at the young sleuth. “So that’s why you organized this lunch! Let me tell you, Miss Drew, that I was never in Clare Grant’s place. She lived down in the East Village part of the city—at the opposite end of Manhattan from me. That time I took her to a Broadway show, we met at the restaurant after work, so we could dine early with no rush and have plenty of time to make the opening curtain. On the other occasion, we met at the agency party and went out to a restaurant from there. That’s how we first became acquainted, in fact.”
Pamela Kane shook her head dubiously, as if unconvinced. “That certainly isn’t the way it sounded when Clare described your relationship to me. As I told you, she spoke as if you’d had a number of dates.”
“I can’t help how she spoke to you,” Snell retorted in an exasperated voice. “I’m telling you the facts.”
“If you never came to Clare’s apartment,” Pamela persisted, “how did you know it was in the East Village?”
“Because she told me so, that’s how.” Snell turned his glance angrily on Nancy. “And let me add, Miss Drew, that if I had seen that Statue of Liberty photograph, it wouldn’t have meant the slightest thing to me. Neither I nor the agency I work for had anything to do with that layout, then or later.”
“So you say, Mr. Snell,” Pamela remarked with a cool smile. “But the fact remains that that layout is about to figure in a sensational lawsuit. And Clare Grant, who posed for that layout, has disappeared. You seem to be the one connecting link between those two cases. Has that fact ever occurred to you?”
Oliver Snell looked both furious and badly shaken at the same time. He opened his mouth as if to explode angrily, then closed it again. “Think what you please, Miss Kane,” he snapped. “And that goes for you too, Miss Drew.”
The atmosphere throughout the rest of the meal was strained and awkward. To Nancy’s surprise, Pamela now changed her tone and began to chat almost flirtatiously with the agency art director. Snell, too, seemed startled and puzzled by her different manner. At one point, Nancy noticed him staring at the young blonde-haired woman.
As the lunch drew to a close, Snell gulped down his coffee and rose abruptly without waiting for the two girls to finish their desserts. Pulling out his wallet, he slapped down some money on the table.
“That should cover the bill and tip. If you’ll excuse me now, I have to be getting back to the office,” he said and stalked out of the restaurant.
Nancy sighed and looked at Pamela with a rueful smile. “Well, was it worthwhile? Did we learn anything from this luncheon?”
Pamela shrugged airily. “I think we stirred him up a good deal, don’t you? And when we tell the police and the news media what I just told Mr. Snell, I rather imagine it’ll stir things up a lot more!”
“You intend to give an interview on the subject?” Nancy inquired in surprise.
“Certainly, why not? But I think the place to begin is at the New York Police Department.” “I’m sure the River Heights police have already been in touch with the New York police about Clare’s disappearance,” Nancy pointed out mildly.
“Maybe so,” said Pamela. “But I’m sure I can get more action by going to New York City Police Headquarters in person—and that may just include some action against our friend, Oliver Snell. He should at least be questioned by the police, if you ask me!”
Unfortunately, however, Pamela had spilled some ice cream on her dress. So she decided to return to the hotel first before starting downtown to police headquarters.
While she was changing, their room phone rang. Nancy answered and heard her father’s voice.
“How are things going in New York, dear?” Carson Drew inquired.
Nancy chuckled dryly. “I think I d better wait to answer that question until the investigation’s farther along, Daddy. What’s up at your end of the line?”
“Well, this is rather short notice, Nancy, but I’ve just arranged an interview for you with Eli Jaxon, the head of Murdo Chemical Corporation. There’s just one hitch.”
“What’s that?”
“He’ll be glad to talk to you, but it’ll have to be this afternoon, if you hope to see him at all. He’s about to leave for Europe.”
“Oh, dear!” Nancy was caught completely by surprise. “I—I’m not sure I can manage that.” “If you’re worried about getting here, that’s no problem. Murdo Chemical Corporation has a company helicopter, which happens to be at La Guardia Airport in New York right now, picking up an emergency repair part for their plant. If you could get out there in the next hour, Mr. Jaxon says you can fly here in the helicopter and then return to New York with him in their company jet. He’ll be leaving the plant around four-thirty.”
“That’s certainly generous of him! Let me think it over for just a moment, Daddy.”
Was the interview worth such an abrupt change in plans? Nancy pondered quickly. Slim as it was, she had had a hunch from the very first that her lead on Roscoe Leff was worth following up. She also realized that she was not looking forward to accompanying Pamela Kane to the police headquarters in New York City. If Pamela’s behavior toward Oliver Snell at lunch was anything to go by, her talk to the local police officials to goad them into stronger action was likely to be rather melodramatic!
Nancy was not even sure that the results were likely to be very useful. In any case, Pamela was certainly capable of dealing with the police on her own, with no help from Nancy.
“Okay, Daddy,” she decided. “Please tell Mr. Jaxon that I’ll accept his invitation gratefully.”
Pamela looked annoyed when she heard about Nancy’s change of plans and tried to talk her out of returning to River Heights. But Nancy, having made her decision, was a firm- minded young lady. She promised to rejoin Pamela later that afternoon, and was soon on her way to La Guardia Airport.
The company helicopter landed at the Murdo Chemical Corporation plant, and she was escorted at once to Eli Jaxon’s office.
The bald, heavyset industrialist was a shrewd, friendly looking man. He invited Nancy to be seated and asked how he could help her.
“I was told,” Nancy began, “that a couple of years ago, a man named Roscoe Leff formed a new advertising agency and tried to win your company’s advertising business.”
Jaxon nodded. “Yes, that’s so. Leff wasn’t working by himself, however. He formed his agency in partnership with another man.” “Really?” Nancy was surprised. “I didn’t know that. Do you remember who the other man was?”
“Hmm, let me see. His name will come back to me in a moment.” Jaxon frowned thoughtfully and drummed his fingers on his desk. “Shell, or something like that. No—Snell, that’s it! Oliver Snell.”
Nancy’s eyes widened. “But they failed to land your account?”
“True. Mind you, they submitted a proposal for a new advertising campaign that made a very favorable impression, both on me and my board of directors.”
“What exactly happened?” Nancy inquired. “Well, several other agencies were also competing for our business and submitted proposals, too. One of them came up with an a
d campaign that sounded every bit as good as the one dreamed up by Leff and Snell. We couldn’t make up our minds about which to choose.” “So how did you decide between them, Mr. Jaxon?”
“We called in a famous photographer, Dallas Curry, and asked his opinion. He lives in River Heights, perhaps you know him. He’s a law client of your father’s, I understand—also an old friend of mine who once photographed our plant, in fact. He favored the other agency’s proposal, so Leff and Snell lost out.”
Nancy stared at the chemical company president, for a moment almost too startled to speak. What Mr. Jaxon had just told her meant that Dallas Curry had—not one—but two potential enemies!
Obviously both had good reason to want revenge on the famed photographer. By causing Eli Jaxon and Murdo Chemical’s board of directors to pick the other ad agency instead of theirs, he had spoiled their chance to form a successful new business of their own.
But who—either Oliver Snell or Roscoe Leff—had masterminded the sinister plot to ruin Dallas Curry’s professional reputation?
19. The Unsigned Message
Nancy thanked Mr. Jaxon for his help, her brain still busily working away at the mental jigsaw puzzle. She felt surer than ever now that she was nearing a solution to at least one of the two mysteries.
Meanwhile, Nancy reflected with a sigh, she had promised to return to New York. When she had first agreed to stay overnight in the city, it had been in response to Pamela Kane’s urging that they engage in some joint sleuthing there for clues to Clare Grant’s disappearance. At the time, this fitted in very well with Nancy’s plan to investigate the three main agency suspects in the Dallas Curry case.
But now, sensing that a solution was close at hand to the latter mystery, Nancy was less inclined to spend time on any generalized search for clues. For the moment, she wanted to concentrate on finding out who had tried to frame Dallas Curry.
Still, she couldn’t leave Pamela stranded in New York City.
Mr. Jaxon arranged to have an aide from the company’s public relations department take Nancy on a brief sightseeing tour of the plant while he was winding up his work for the afternoon. But first she decided to call home on a public phone in the plant lobby, in order to tell Hannah her plans.
“Then there’s a chance you may come back home tonight, after all?” the housekeeper inquired.
“I hope so, Hannah, if I can persuade Pamela Kane.”
“By the way, George is here, dear. We were just chatting in the hallway when the phone rang.”
A sudden thought struck Nancy. “Oh gosh, Hannah, would you let me speak to her? Maybe she’d like to come back to New York with me—that is, if there’s room aboard, and Mr. Jaxon won’t think I’m too forward in asking!”
As it turned out, George was delighted at the idea. And Mr. Jaxon readily assented to taking Nancy’s friend along on the flight.
“Glad to, my dear,” Mr. Jaxon said with a jovial smile when Nancy made her diffident request. “There’s plenty of room for another passenger in our company’s executive jet.”
George was waiting eagerly at the Murdo Chemical Corporation hangar when he and Nancy arrived at the airport in the helicopter. The jet was already fueled and standing by for takeoff. After a short, pleasant flight, it touched down at La Guardia Airport in New York. From there, a taxi whisked Nancy and George into Manhattan. The afternoon was drawing to a close when the two girls walked into the lobby of the Drury Lane Hotel. Nancy picked up the key from the desk clerk, and they went up to the room.
Pamela Kane was not there. “She was bound and determined to get the NYPD into the act,” Nancy said with a rueful grin. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she was down at headquarters right now, nagging the police commissioner to do something!”
Nancy kicked off her shoes, thinking they might as well make use of the time while they waited for Pamela.
“Make yourself comfortable, George,” she said aloud. “I have a phone call to make.” Sitting down on the edge of one of the beds, Nancy fished in her shoulder bag for a moment.
Then she picked up the room phone, asked the operator for an outside line, and dialed the number of Duane Weiss, the casting director of the upcoming musical, Moonglow.
This time she was in luck. Weiss not only answered the phone himself, he recognized Sylvia Salmo’s name instantly. “Sure, we’ve already signed her up for the chorus line,” he said cheerfully. “Hang on a sec. I’ll give you her phone number and address.”
As usual when investigating a mystery, Nancy preferred a face-to-face meeting, rather than a phone conversation, and now seemed as good a time as any. So the two River Heights girls took a taxi to Sylvia’s apartment, which was not far away on the East Side.
The young woman who opened the door to the apartment left Nancy momentarily speechless with surprise. Though slightly taller than Pamela Kane, Sylvia Salmo, too, had long blonde hair and pearl-rimmed pixie glasses!
She seemed rather startled herself—almost unpleasantly so, Nancy thought—on hearing the reason for the teenage sleuth’s visit.
“What more can I tell you?” she said and shrugged. “Pam knows Clare Grant a lot better than I do.” She did not even invite her two visitors to sit down, explaining that she had to get ready for an evening date.
“Not very friendly, was she?” Nancy commented quietly as they walked out of Sylvia’s apartment building into the street.
“You said it,” George agreed.
“I’m getting hungry,” Nancy said impulsively. “How about you?”
“Ditto!”
“How about Lilly’s? They have a caricature of Clare Grant up on the wall there, and I’d like another look at it. Would you like to eat there?”
“I’d love to,” George exclaimed. “Bess told me all about it, including that cartoon.”
Nancy paused as they passed a phone booth. “Wait till I try the hotel again. Pamela may want to come with us, if she’s back.”
The young detective hung up and emerged from the booth a few moments later with a shake of her head. “Still no answer from the room,” she reported. “Oh well, come on. Let’s go.
It was somewhat early for the New York dinner crowd, and the two girls found few diners in the restaurant when they arrived. So when Nancy requested a table near the Clare Grant caricature, the headwaiter willingly obliged.
George stared at it, after their orders had been taken. “It’s really cute,” she remarked. “So is Clare Grant, if that’s a good likeness.”
“It is, according to the director of that stage play she was hoping to be in,” Nancy replied. She broke off suddenly, recalling the astonished look that had come over Oliver Snell’s face at one point during lunch.
A wild idea had just taken shape in Nancy’s mind. But at the moment, it seemed too far out to explain to George. Better think it over and check it out a bit first, she decided.
Less than an hour had passed by the time the two girls finished their coffee and dessert. “Pam surely ought to be back by now,” Nancy remarked as they left Lilly’s and began briskly walking the few blocks to the hotel.
But Pam was not there. When Nancy asked at the desk, she was handed the room key and informed that Miss Kane had come in about half an hour ago—only to find a phone message waiting that had caused her to go out again.
Nancy sighed and turned to George. “We may as well wait for her upstairs. No telling how long she’ll be gone.”
They went up from the lobby by elevator and then relaxed in the room. George sat down to watch television. Nancy brightened as she recalled the manila envelope that had come in the morning mail. Now was her chance to read that material on subliminal perception that Professor Jaffee had sent her!
She pulled the envelope out of her overnight bag and extracted the articles. Then she settled herself in an easy chair, with her stockinged feet propped up on the bed, and began to read.
Because of the devious trick played on Dallas Curry and herself, Nancy found the photocopied
material intensely interesting. She raced through the first article, then the second. When she came to the third article, Nancy froze in surprise and stared at the name of its author. The piece had been written by Oliver Snell of the Marc Joplin advertising agency!
Her thoughts were in a whirl. Not only did Snell have a strong motive for revenge on Dallas Curry—he also had an expert knowledge of subliminal perception!
She recalled how Pamela Kane had reported finding his phone number among Clare Grant’s personal effects—the mysterious threats to Clare that Pam had been so concerned about— and the accusing way she had harped at Oliver Snell during lunch.
And suddenly Nancy knew for sure, with a sinking heart, why he had stared at Pamela in such open-mouthed astonishment!
She sprang up from the chair and laid the manila envelope and articles aside. “Be right back, George. I’m just going down to the lobby,” Nancy called as she went out the door.
George looked away from the TV set and nodded.
In the lobby, Nancy walked straight to the reception counter and asked about the phone message that Pamela had found waiting for her when she returned to the hotel. “Did you notice what she did with it after she read it?” Nancy asked the clerk.
He frowned and shrugged. “Just crumpled it up, I think, and threw it away.”
“Where?”
“Right over there in that ashtray. In fact, I think I can see it from here .. . that yellow slip of paper.”
Nancy hurried to retrieve it and smoothed out the wrinkles enough to read the message:
MISS KANE—BE AT THE TOWER AT 8:00 TONIGHT AND I WILL GIVE YOU SENSATIONAL EVIDENCE IN THE CLARE GRANT CASE. BUT COME ALONE OR ITS NO DEAL!
“Incidentally,” the desk clerk added, “she arranged to rent a car before she left.”
“I’d like to rent one, too,” Nancy said, making a lightning decision. “Could you order one for me?”
“Sure thing, Miss Drew. I can have one brought right to the door of the hotel in ten or fifteen minutes. And the rental agreement will be all made out for you to sign when it gets here.”