The Mystery at Lilac Inn - Carolyn Keene [30]
“I wish you weren’t going back to Lilac Inn,” Hannah fretted.
“Now, Hannah,” said Mr. Drew, “you know Nancy wouldn’t give up any mystery until it’s solved.”
He then requested his daughter to telephone him the next morning. Nancy promised and left the house. She reached Benton at eight o’clock. Dusk was closing in, but it had to be considerably darker before Nancy could proceed to Lilac Inn.
She took a side road out of town. “Doris lives close to the inn,” she recalled. “I’ll drop in to see her.” Presently she drove into a dirt lane leading to the Drakes’ attractive white farmhouse.
She found Doris and her parents playing croquet on the front lawn. They greeted her cordially.
“About time you came to call,” Doris scolded teasingly. “Nancy, any more news about your double?”
“Well, yes.” Nancy smiled. “It’s turned into quite a mystery, which I’m trying to solve.”
“I understand. Detective at work,” Doris guessed wisely.
Nancy then asked the Drakes if they knew a fisherman in the vicinity who wore his hair in a crew cut. They shook their heads.
“Does anyone own the dock between yours and the one at Lilac Inn?” Nancy questioned.
Mr. Drake replied that there was no house on the adjoining property. He understood the dock had been abandoned for years.
By the time Nancy took her leave and drew near the inn, it was dark. She decided to park in the apple orchard. As the girl detective got out of her car she felt raindrops. She took a plastic coat with attached hood from the trunk of her convertible and put it on. Then, carrying her suitcase, she dashed toward the inn.
When she reached it, Nancy circled the building cautiously, not wishing to be seen by anyone. The old inn was ablaze with lights. As Nancy approached the recreation room she heard dance music.
She crept up to the shrubbery and peered in. Helen and John were dancing, and Emily’s partner was a young man of medium build with reddish-brown hair and a rather serious expression.
“That must be Dick,” Nancy surmised. She observed that Maud, Mrs. Willoughby, and Mr. Daly were talking in a far corner of the room.
“I’m glad they are having fun,” Nancy thought, continuing around the inn. There was no sign near the building of the guard her father had obtained. No doubt he was down near the river. Nancy walked to the guest cottages, hoping that one might not be locked. Nancy tried the doors and finally came to one that opened.
“Brrrr!” she shivered, stepping into the chilly, damp room. Nancy’s eyes quickly became accustomed to the gloom. The place had no furniture but a chair. “I’ll have plenty of time to get ready. The ghost won’t be out until the inn is dark. I may as well rest and go over my act,” she thought, and sat down on the chair. “I only hope my masquerade will bring results.”
The time crept by slowly, but finally Nancy saw by the luminous dial of her watch that it was eleven-thirty. She looked out the window. The rain had stopped and a few stars twinkled above.
All the lights in the inn were out. She noticed that John’s cottage, too, was in darkness. “That’s funny. He must have come back, but I haven’t heard any footsteps since I’ve been here,” Nancy mused. “Wonder where he is.”
She opened her suitcase and lifted out the dress and wig. She put them on and took a small flashlight from her handbag.
Cautiously the masquerader made her way to the lilac grove, taking care not to stumble over roots or twigs. As she drew near it, Nancy thought she heard the distant put-put of a motorboat. But the sound soon faded away.
An owl hooted nearby. The darkness beneath the overhanging trees seemed forbidding. Suddenly Nancy felt panicky, but resolutely she put aside her fears. She clicked on the small flashlights attached to her sleeves and walked toward the spot where Helen had been struck. Dramatically, Nancy waved her arms back and forth.
“I wonder if someone will reply,” she thought.
At the same moment she heard a noise in the underbrush. A small animal darted across her path, followed by the crunch of footsteps.