The Secret of the Haunted Mirror - M. V. Carey [13]
“That’s right. The corner of Sunset and Rosewood.”
“Bob and Pete,” said Jupe, “Worthington told us he’d be at home if we needed him. Why don’t you call him and ask if he’ll drive you to that hotel so you can keep an eye on Señor Santora? Doubtless there is a service entrance as well as the main entrance, so it will take two.”
“Okay! I’ll be glad to get out of here,” said Pete quickly.
“I guess I can call my mother and tell her I won’t be home for dinner,” said Bob.
“What are you going to do while we’re watching Santora?”
The stocky First Investigator fingered the weird mouldings which decorated the goblin glass. “Jeff and I can put the books back on the shelves,” he said, “and then we can wait. It will be interesting to know if the ghost of Chiavo will appear while you have Santora under surveillance.”
Chapter 6
Pete Stalks Trouble
PETE, BOB, AND WORTHINGTON had paused only for a hasty snack at a hamburger stand on their way to Beverly Hills. It was dusk and storm clouds were piling up in the sky north of the mountains when they reached the Beverly Sunset Hotel. The handsome four-storey brick building occupied a whole block on Sunset Boulevard.
“It looks expensive,” said Pete.
Worthington parked his Ford sedan in the block beyond the hotel, across the boulevard from it. “It is considered a desirable place,” he said. “I have driven several people who were guests there. It isn’t an ordinary commercial hotel, and it attracts few visitors from out of the city. Some guests are permanent residents who don’t want the responsibilities that go with maintaining a home.”
“I guess we can conclude that Señor Santora isn’t short of money,” said Bob.
“There he is now!” said Pete.
The three in the car watched intently as the gentleman from Spain came out of the hotel. He stood for a moment looking at the clouds and listening to the far-off thunder, then he turned away from the boys and strolled down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets.
Worthington frowned. “Dare I make a U-turn on Sunset?”
Señor Santora paused and examined the display in the window of a flower shop, then ambled on for a few hundred yards, paused again, stared into the window of an art supply house, and after a moment, went into the shop.
“I don’t think he’s going anywhere,” said Pete. “I think he’s just killing time.”
“Hey!” said Bob suddenly. “Look! There at the corner!”
A thin man dressed in a dark, somewhat rumpled, suit had come round a corner on to the boulevard and was walking rapidly towards the entrance of the hotel.
“It’s the burglar!” said Pete.
“Indeed it is, Master Pete,” Worthington made a move as if to get out of the car.
“Hold it, Worthington,” warned Pete quickly. “This may be our big chance to find out what’s up.”
“The man is a criminal,” Worthington pointed out. “He broke into Mrs. Darnley’s house.”
“I know, I know,” said Pete. “And Mrs. Darnley thinks that Santora might have put him up to it. And now, just after that weird thing appeared in the mirror, here he is at Santora’s hotel.”
Pete frowned, thought for a few moments, then sighed and slowly began to get out of the car.
“What are you going to do?” asked Bob.
“Follow him,” said Pete. “What else can I do? If he and Santora are in cahoots we’ve got to know about it.”
“If they’re going to meet in that art shop you’d better be careful,” said Bob.
“They’ve both seen you before. They’ll recognize you.”
“That housebreaker could be dangerous,” warned Worthington.
Pete’s face was grim. “I know it,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”
He hurried down to the intersection, keeping his eyes on the black-clad figure. The burglar was looking with his head down so that his eyes were fixed on the pavement in front of him. To Pete’s relief, he did not proceed towards the art shop. He went into the hotel.
Pete crossed the boulevard when the light changed. He walked towards the hotel with his head up and his lips pursed as if he were whistling — a young man with not a serious thought in his head. And he went into