The Mystery at Lilac Inn - Carolyn Keene [40]
Helen groaned. “Your car probably was stolen by one of those thieves!”
Just then, John McBride drove into the Tot in his jeep. “Hi!” he greeted the girls. “Why so glum?”
When Nancy told about her missing car, John suggested that he and the girls go off in his jeep and search the grounds before reporting the loss,
“Your car may only have been hidden by a prankster,” he suggested. “This is the day for car trouble,” he added. “I just fixed a flat tire.”
Twenty minutes later the group spotted Nancy’s convertible near a cornfield across the lane from the orchard. They examined the vehicle, and found it intact. The key was in the lock.
“Whoever took it had a short trip,” John commented.
Nancy wondered whether the unknown driver had only played a prank. If so, why? To discourage her from going to Bridgeton? Or had the person planned to steal the car but been scared off?
The girls stepped into the convertible and told John their destination. “Lots of luck,” he said.
The drive to Bridgeton took about an hour and a half. Nancy and Helen arrived in time to attend services in the quaint, white, eighteenth-century church. Then they had lunch at a tearoom.
“Where do we look for Miss Merriweather?” asked Helen as they paid their check. “The theater’s closed today.”
Nancy asked the tearoom manager where the summer stock people were living.
“At the Montrose Hotel, two blocks down.”
Ten minutes later the girls walked into the small hotel. They learned from the desk clerk that the actress and her father had Suite 303.
As Nancy and Helen rode up in the elevator, they reviewed a plan they had worked out earlier. To avoid rousing suspicion, Nancy would pretend to be an actress named Dru Gruen. She would further pretend that she knew Gay but had lost contact. Helen was to pose as a dancer.
As the young sleuth knocked on the door of Suite 303, she was filled with anticipation. Would the visit yield the answer to the mystery, or would it prove to be only a false lead?
The door was opened by a tall, slim young woman, with silver-blond hair. She wore a becoming dress of jade-green silk.
“Yes?” she asked in a throaty voice.
Nancy smiled. “Miss Merriweather? I’m Dru Gruen, an actress, and this is my friend Helga Marsh, a dancer. I understand you know Gay. We’re trying to locate her.”
The actress looked startled. “Gay Moreau?”
“Yes,” Nancy replied without hesitation.
Miss Merriweather invited her callers into an attractive living room. A fine-looking elderly man arose from a chair as they entered.
“Papa,” said the actress, “these young ladies are theater people—Miss Gruen and Miss Marsh. They’re looking for Gay.”
Mr. Merriweather, too, appeared startled. “We haven’t seen Gay in quite some time,” he said. “May I ask why you’re trying to find her?”
“We thought we’d like to have a little reunion,” Nancy explained. “We haven’t seen Gay recently, and don’t know her present address.”
“We don’t know where she’s living, either,” Lillie put in. “I haven’t heard from Gay since the last time I saw her.”
“When was that?” Nancy asked.
“Shortly after she was released from prison.”
Nancy and Helen were amazed to hear this. But they managed to conceal it.
“I imagine,” Nancy said carefully, “that Gay’s been having a hard time.”
Lillie and her father agreed. “Very sad.” Mr. Merriweather sighed. “Gay had talent. But a five-year sentence for check forgery doesn’t help one’s career.”
“I can’t understand why she did it,” Nancy said.
“Probably because Gay was poor most of her life,” Lillie reminisced. “Once success came her way, she spent all her earnings on luxuries. But Gay couldn’t stop buying expensive things. I guess she figured forgery was the easiest way to get more money.”
Mr. Merriweather frowned. “What bothered me was that Gay swore revenge on the person who was instrumental in having her sent to prison.”
“The one whose signature she forged?” Helen asked.
“She didn’t mention the