The Moonstone Castle Mystery (5 page)

“I’m afraid there is little I can tell you,” the man replied. “I knew Mrs. Horton only slightly. One day she came in and closed out both her checking and her savings accounts. Then she went to her safe-deposit box and removed the contents—apparently securities.”

“She gave no explanation?” Nancy asked.

“None whatever. She was not a talkative person. Furthermore, we never question what our clients do. Of course we were sorry to lose her accounts.”

“How long ago was it?” Nancy queried.

Mr. Kleat thought for a few moments, then said, “I can’t remember exactly how many years ago, but it was a few months before her death.”

At that moment Mr. Kleat’s buzzer sounded. He answered and said, “All right. Put him on.” The president turned to the girls. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me now. I have an important long-distance call.”

Nancy arose hastily and thanked him. She hurried from the room, followed by Bess and George.

When they reached the sidewalk, George asked, “Nancy, do you think that you learned anything important?”

“Indeed I do. I’ve had a feeling all along that something strange was happening between Mrs. Horton and the couple who worked for her. I’m beginning to think that maybe the servants were using some hypnotic influence over Mrs. Horton to get her money and securities away from her.”

“How perfectly dreadful!” Bess commented.

Nancy walked up the street, telling the girls she was going to visit the other bank in town. At this institution the girl detective was told a similar story to the one she had just heard, but the information came from the head cashier. He was the only person who had been working at the bank fifteen years before.

This man was a little more talkative and revealed the fact that Mrs. Horton was considered to be wealthy. “I believe she left everything to a granddaughter,” he said, “but the details have slipped my memory.”

Nancy was sorry to hear this, because for a moment she had hoped that the man would supply a helpful clue. He smiled. “Mrs. Horton never talked about her personal affairs to anyone—she didn’t seem to want a soul to know her business.”

Nancy, realizing that the cashier could throw no further light on the mystery, thanked him and the girls left the bank. Their next stop was at one of the law offices. Here the young sleuths learned nothing—the two lawyers who shared the office had been in town less than five years and had never heard of Mrs. Horton.

At the next attorney’s Nancy had a little better luck. The man had heard of Mrs. Horton, and although he knew nothing about her personally, he said, “I believe a Mr. John Wheeler, who is now retired, took care of her estate.”

“Does he live in town?” Nancy asked eagerly.

“Yes. On Victoria Street. I don’t know the number of the house, but you can’t miss it. On the front lawn there’s a huge statue of a dog.”

As the girls hurried toward Mr. Wheeler’s home, Nancy wondered if this was the man to whom her father had referred and who was reported to be out of town. She fervently hoped he was back!

To her delight, Mr. Wheeler had returned and he welcomed the girls cordially. He was about seventy years old, but very spry looking.

“It’s rare that even one young lady comes to call on me,” he said with a lilt in his voice. “To have three all at once—and such attractive ones —is a great pleasure indeed. Do come in and sit down.”

The girls seated themselves in the spacious, beautifully furnished living room. Nancy apologized for the intrusion, then introduced herself as the daughter of Carson Drew, the attorney.

“I believe you settled the estate of Mrs. Adelaide Horton?” Nancy said questioningly.

“Yes, I did.”

Nancy said that her father had come to Deep River looking for Mr. Wheeler, but had learned he was out of town.

“My father had to take a business trip, so he asked me to come up here and make some inquiries.”

“And what is it you want to know?” Mr. Wheeler asked, his voice now showing a note of suspicion.

“It’s about Mrs. Horton’s granddaughter to whom she left her money.”

“Well?” Mr. Wheeler lifted his eyebrows. “Everything was in order. Just before Mrs. Horton’s death she left a note giving the address of her granddaughter. The girl was notified and came here from New York City. Her lawyer accompanied her. She had full credentials to prove who she was.” After a pause Mr. Wheeler added, “So she inherited Mrs. Horton’s estate. That’s all there is to the story.”

“But she couldn’t have!” Bess blurted. “She was only three years old!”

Mr. Wheeler smiled affably. “Oh, no,” he said. “She was twenty-one.”

Nancy, Bess, and George were stunned. “Where is Joanie Horton now?” Nancy asked.

“I have no idea,” the retired lawyer answered.

Nancy’s mind was in a whirl. If Mr. Wheeler’s story were true, who were the Mr. and Mrs. Bowen that had come to Mr. Drew? Were they impostors? If so, what was their scheme? On the other hand, Nancy reflected, maybe a great hoax had been perpetrated and an impostor had received the estate.

A similar thought went through George’s mind. She asked abruptly, “Mr. Wheeler, weren’t you suspicious about that girl who claimed to be Joanie Horton?”

The former lawyer’s face instantly turned red, then almost purple. He jumped from his chair and in anger shouted, “How dare you, young lady! The idea of questioning my integrity! I suggest that you and your friends leave at once!”

“WHY, Mr. Wheeler, I didn’t mean—” George broke in. “Please forgive me.”

The retired lawyer, mollified by George’s apology, took a deep breath.

“Perhaps I should explain,” Nancy said. “We heard that Mrs. Horton had a little grandchild staying with her. But no one in Deep River seems to know anything about her. Your story startled us.”

Mr. Wheeler finally calmed down. “I will outline the circumstances,” he said, seating himself again. “When I was called in, Mrs. Horton was already dead. Only the doctor and the undertaker were there, but they showed me several notes left by her on a bedside table, along with a couple of signed checks. All were in the old woman’s handwriting. One said the granddaughter mentioned in her will lived at a certain address in New York City. Another note said she desired a private funeral. A third requested that since Joan’s parents were not living, I was to take charge of everything.

“Accordingly, I notified the granddaughter who came here with a lawyer and a couple. They were friends. Joan had with her a birth certificate, a copy of the marriage license of her parents, and letters from her grandmother. The identification seemed bona fide.”

Bess inquired, “The age of the grandchild and a guardian were not mentioned in the will?”

“No,” Mr. Wheeler answered. “By the way, I did not draw the will. The lawyer who had and the witnesses who had signed it were not living.”

“Was there a large estate?” Nancy queried.

The retired lawyer said there had been very little cash in Mrs. Horton’s home safe, but he had found many securities there. “All of them were transferred to Joan,” he explained. “After she left the Horton house, I never heard from her again.”

“Did she sell the property?” George spoke up.

“Yes. It was purchased by neighbors, but it has since been sold to other people.”

“What was the name of the couple who worked for Mrs. Horton just before her death?” Nancy asked. Mr. Wheeler said he did not know.

All this time Nancy had been studying the elderly man’s face. It was an enigma to her. Was he completely honest or was he involved in a crooked deal regarding the will?

George asked, “Those notes you were given—could they possibly have been forgeries?”

The retired lawyer, instead of becoming angry over the question, looked troubled. “I most certainly hope not,” he said.

“Did you keep the notes?” Nancy asked.

“No, I didn’t. As a matter of fact, I laid them down at the Horton house and they disappeared. I assumed someone had thrown them away, thinking they were no longer of any use.”

Nancy stood up. She felt that the girls had gleaned all the information possible from Mr. Wheeler, who appeared genuinely upset.

“I’m sorry we disturbed you,” said Nancy. “Thank you very much for this information. I’ll pass it along to my dad. Probably he will be in touch with you when he returns home.”

Bess and George said good-by, but Mr. Wheeler did not rise. He seemed stunned and his thoughts far away. Nancy wished she were a mind reader! Had Mr. Wheeler told all the facts?

The girls let themselves out the front door and started for the car. “That was really something, wasn’t it?” Bess remarked.

“I don’t know who was more stunned—Mr. Wheeler or me,” said Nancy.“ Do you realize what this means, girls? If this whole thing was a grand hoax, and someone got away with Mrs. Horton’s estate, there’s no chance of the real Joanie Horton’s getting it, or even of being found.”

“And don’t forget,” Bess added, “that we haven’t learned one single thing about the three-year-old child named Joanie Horton. It looks as if she never existed!”

“It sure is a mystery,” said George, as the girls climbed into the car.

After lunch they returned to the motel. Nancy went at once to the telephone and tried to call her father. She learned, however, that he had left the San Francisco hotel, but was expected back in a few days.

Nancy next called Hannah Gruen. When the housekeeper heard the latest developments in the case, she was alarmed by the news.

“There may be more danger in this mystery than you bargained for, Nancy,” she said. “If your father should phone, I’ll give him your message and I’m sure he’ll get in touch with you.” The kindly woman begged Nancy to use extreme caution as she proceeded in her sleuthing.

“Don’t forget,” Nancy reminded her with a chuckle, “that the moonstone I brought is supposed to bring me good luck!”

“Moonstone, bah!” Mrs. Gruen said. “Use your good common sense and you’ll be better off!”

As Nancy said good-by, Bess came up to her and announced she would like to offer a suggestion. “Don’t you think you ought to get in touch with the Bowens and tell them the whole story?”

Nancy shook her head. “I’ll call them, but I won’t tell them what we’ve learned. It’s possible that
they
may be the phonies. I’m sure I can’t imagine what their game would be after all these years, but Dad says never take anything for granted. I think we should try to learn the truth in this case before telling them anything more. But I do want to ask them a question.”

Nancy put in the call to the couple, who were staying in New York City. She told them she had nothing to report, but thought they themselves might get a clue to their missing grandchild through the organization which had sent them to Africa as missionaries. Surely it would have notified Mrs. Horton of their capture. “What was the name of the group?” she asked.

Mr. Bowen said it was the African Brotherhood Society of New York. “Unfortunately, the Society has been out of existence several years, so there are no contacts in that direction.”

“That’s too bad,” said Nancy, who realized it would be very difficult to trace anyone who had been in the organization fifteen years before. “Well, I’ll say good-by now. If I learn anything worthwhile, I’ll get in touch with you.”

George joined the other girls and they discussed the case from every angle. Nancy gave a great sigh. “I think the best thing for me to do right now is clear my brain of the Horton case for a while.”

Bess giggled. “How do you propose to do that?”

“By taking a swim. Shall we get ready to go back to the castle? I’d like to find out if anyone is staying there illegally, and if such a person has anything to do with our case.”

“Let’s go,” said George.

Bess was silent. Finally she confessed, “Nancy, while you were telephoning, an absolute dream boy here at the motel asked me to play tennis.” She looked off into the distance. “But I’ll go with you,” she added.

Nancy and George began to laugh. “Like fun you will,” said George. “You just can’t wait to get out on the court with that boy.”

“You know,” said Nancy, “it might not be a bad idea. It might fool any inquisitive people if Bess doesn’t act as if she were at Long View just as a detective. You go ahead, Bess, and play tennis. If George and I aren’t back in three hours, then suppose you and whoosy-whatsus come after us.”

Bess blinked and flung up her head. “Okay, but his name’s Alan Ryder!” she retorted.

George sniffed. “Better be sure, dear coz, that he is not one of the Seaman gang!”

Bess stamped her foot furiously. “George Fayne, there are times when I could pull your hair right out by the roots!” She stalked off.

Giggling, Nancy and George went to their room. They undressed, put on swim suits, and over them their shorts and shirts. They rolled towels in waterproof bags which they would carry across the moat.

The two girls drove off, excited by the prospect of what they might learn about the old castle. Just before reaching the drawbridge, George began to laugh. “Nancy, maybe you and I are a couple of goofs.”

“We probably are,” Nancy admitted, “but what put that idea into your head?”

George explained she had heard that in olden times some drawbridges were built so they could be controlled from the far side of the moat as well as the inside of the castle. “If an unwanted visitor or enemy approached the bridge while it was down, a secret mechanism under the road worked automatically to raise the bridge. Maybe there’s hidden machinery on this side. In that case, maybe nobody was at the castle when we walked toward the bridge. We may have set off the mechanism, and up went the bridge!”

“I suppose you could be right,” Nancy agreed, “but I still think somebody on the inside let down those two great chains on the bridge. And perhaps the same person was responsible for running water into the moat.”