The Mystery of the Death Trap Mine - M. V. Carey [28]
“Jupiter Jones! Don’t you dare go snooping into Mrs. Macomber’s business!” cried Allie. “She’s okay! I like her!”
“And you don’t like Wesley Thurgood,” said Jupe. “That doesn’t mean that Wesley Thurgood is a criminal or that Mrs. Macomber is not. As a matter of fact, I like Mrs.
Macomber myself. But as a detective, I can’t let my personal feelings influence my judgment.”
“Oh, come off it!” said Allie. “Your judgment is screwy, period. The idea that Mrs.
Macomber could be a robber!”
Jupe sighed. “Look, Allie. I don’t know that Mrs. Macomber has done a thing. But I do know that she was living in Phoenix when a woman remarkably like her took part in a robbery. And a holdup man was found dead in a mine that she knew all about.
Coincidences like that have to be investigated — they might not be coincidences. For a start, we can at least verify that Mrs. Macomber worked all those years in that shop.”
“Why don’t you call Phoenix?” dared Allie. “You’ll find out that she was telling the truth and you won’t be any further ahead.”
“That may be,” conceded Jupe. Trailed by the others, he went to the telephone in the living room and got the number for the Teepee shop from Phoenix information. He dialed it and put on his deepest, most sincere, grown-up voice.
“Teepee? … May I speak to Mrs. Harvard, if you please?”
There was a brief pause. “Mrs. Harvard?” said Jupe. “This is Emerson Foster of the Bon Ton Department Store in Lordsburg, New Mexico. We have an application for employment here — a Mrs. Henry Macomber. She has given your name as a reference. I understand that she left the Teepee approximately five years ago. Mrs. Macomber tells us that she resigned and—”
Jupe paused. The telephone made noises which the others could not understand.
“After fifteen years?” said Jupe finally.
“I told you so,” whispered Allie. “She’s on the level.”
But Jupe was listening to the voice on the telephone, and he looked very serious.
“That’s … that’s hard to believe!” he said. “Yes. Yes, well thank you for being so frank.
Believe me, we appreciate it.”
He hung up the telephone.
“What did she say?” asked Pete.
“Mrs. Macomber worked at the Teepee for fifteen years,” Jupe told them. “She left there in the spring, five years ago. Mrs. Harvard said it was in April or May. She didn’t remember exactly. But Mrs. Macomber did not resign.”
“So she was fired,” said Allie. “So what?”
“She wasn’t fired,” said Jupe. “She simply didn’t come in to work one morning. She didn’t even telephone, and when one of the women in the shop went to her apartment to see what was the matter, she was gone. She’d moved out, and left no forwarding address.”
Allie looked blank.
Bob had been slouched on the sofa. Now he leaned forward. “Five years ago in the spring,” he said. “That would be about the time the armoured car was held up. Jupe, you could be right. She may have driven that getaway car, and then run for it. I wonder where she was in the months between the time she left the Teepee and the time she came back to Twin Lakes.”
“Lying low?” suggested Pete.
“Let’s not leap to any conclusions,” said Jupe. “There could be some explanation. Why don’t we go across the road and see her? Perhaps we could persuade her to talk more about Phoenix and what took place that year.”
“Subtle questioning,” said Pete. “Jupe, you’re good at that. Let’s go!”
“I think you all stink!” cried Allie.
“Okay. Don’t come with us,” said Pete.
“Oh, I’ll come all right. I want to see you fall flat on your faces when you find out you’re wrong.”
But when Allie and the Three Investigators crossed the road, they discovered that there would be no subtle questioning. Mrs. Macomber’s truck was gone and there was no answer when they knocked at her door.
“She’s probably in town,” said Allie. “Let’s get this settled. I’ll leave a note on her kitchen table and ask her to come to lunch. Magdalena won’t mind.”
She opened the door and went into the kitchen, followed by the boys.
“Mrs. Macomber?” called Allie. When no answer came, she went on into the living room, looking for a scrap