(#28) The Clue of the Black Keys (2 page)

“He’s a thief! We must stop him!”

“What are you doing?” Nancy cried out

The policeman and Terry Scott followed Nancy as she raced for her car. The two men piled in beside her, and they sped off.

Nancy drove northward along the main highway toward River Heights, and at last came close enough to note that the sedan ahead had a Florida license plate. Then, at a busy intersection, she was stopped by a traffic light and lost sight of the other car.

“Keep pushing,” Malloy directed her when the light changed. “They’re up ahead some place.”

A few minutes later Terry Scott pointed excitedly. “They just passed us—going the other way! They’re heading back to the airport!”

Nancy maneuvered her car in a neat U-turn and took up the chase again. The sedan was well ahead, but Nancy kept gaining. Another quarter mile and they would overtake Juarez Tino.

But just as she approached the far side of the airfield, the blue sedan suddenly swerved from the road. Swaying dizzily, it swung across a rough field and onto the runway. Nancy started to follow, then jammed on her brakes. Her car screeched to a stop, but the sedan kept on directly in the path of an incoming plane.

“There’ll be a crash!” Nancy cried out.

CHAPTER II

A Suspect Escapes

NANCY covered her face with her hands, expecting to hear the ripping, grinding sound of a collision. Instead, she heard Terry Scott shout:

“They made it!”

Looking up, Nancy saw the plane taxiing along the runway.

“That crazy driver just missed by the skin of his teeth!” Malloy exclaimed.

“Somebody’s getting out of the car,” Nancy remarked.

“I’ll get him,” the sergeant said, opening the door.

“I’ll go with you,” Nancy offered.

“You two stay here,” the officer ordered. “It’s too dangerous on the runway.”

Nancy bit her lip in vexation. From her first mystery,
The Secret of the Old Clock,
through her most recent,
The Secret of the Wooden Lady,
Nancy had shown that she possessed courage and daring beyond her years. But she always paid heed to the wisdom of her father and others of his generation. Now she obeyed Sergeant Malloy’s order and waited in the car.

The officer reached the sedan on the runway. A second man stepped out of the car.

“Must be the driver,” Terry Scott commented. “He’s too tall for Juarez.”

The policeman leaned inside. Apparently Juarez was not there.

“Juarez must have escaped!” Nancy gasped.

“With my key, the rat!” Terry fumed.

Nancy frowned and turned to her companion. “Are you sure Juarez was in the sedan when it passed us on the road?”

“Yes. Both men were on the front seat.”

“Then Juarez must be here at the airport,” Nancy declared.

With one hand shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun, she studied the tall grass that fringed the far side of the runway.

“Look!” she cried. “He’s running toward the airport building!”

Nancy backed her car onto the road, and headed for the building. Traffic was heavy, and she chafed at the delay, but finally she made it.

As Nancy parked, she and Terry heard the roar of an outgoing plane. A crowd of onlookers were waving good-by.

“Must be that Florida Special I saw chalked up on the flight board,” Terry remarked.

Florida!
An idea flashed into Nancy’s mind. The plane was bound for Florida—and the license on the blue sedan was Florida! Was there a connection?

“Let’s go to the ticket office and inquire about the passengers,” she said excitedly. “Juarez Tino might be on that plane!”

Nancy quickly gained the attention of a clerk. “May I see the list of passengers who boarded the Florida plane?” she asked.

“Certainly.”

She was handed a typewritten sheet. Six passengers had boarded the plane at River Heights. Juarez Tino was not one of them.

“Did all the passengers with reservations claim their seats?” Nancy asked.

The girl at the counter chuckled. “Yes, all the passengers got on. But one of them almost didn’t make it. He came rushing up at the last minute, out of breath.”

Nancy leaned forward excitedly. “What was his name? Please tell me. I have a particular reason for wanting to know.”

The clerk tried hard to remember. Then she pointed to a name on the list. “Conway King. His wife kept fidgeting, worrying where her husband was and commenting in a loud, brassy voice.”

“Did you see her husband when he came in?”

The clerk shook her head. “He went right out to the plane. Somebody said he made it all right. That’s all I know.”

“Thank you,” Nancy said, and turned away. When she and Terry Scott were alone, she said quietly, “Do you think Juarez might be using the name Conway King?”

“It’s quite possible. And that ‘brassy voice’ certainly sounds like his wife. I think we should inform the police so Juarez can be questioned at the next stop.”

Nancy looked at the flight schedule which had not yet been erased from the board. “The plane won’t come down for two hours. Before we tell the police, I think we should make a thorough search for the key.”

Her companion looked puzzled.

“When you didn’t find the key in your pocket, we both assumed Juarez had stolen it,” Nancy reminded him. “But maybe—”

She did not finish the sentence. Beckoning him to follow her, Nancy walked over to the bench which they had occupied earlier. It was possible, Nancy thought, that Juarez had dropped the key in his haste to leave. He might even have hidden it, intending to come back later.

Hurriedly Nancy looked along the top of the bench. No key there. And it was not on the floor underneath. Finally she turned to Terry Scott, who was also searching.

“Are you sure you didn’t take that key into the phone booth with you?”

“I’m quite certain. But I’ll look just the same.”

While he was gone, Nancy examined the floor from the bench to the side door through which Juarez had made his exit. She looked on the ground outside the door. No key.

Disappointed, she returned to the bench and sat down. Suddenly Nancy realized that the dark wooden seat was not solid, but built of strips about half an inch apart.

With renewed hope she felt along the cracks of the smooth wood. Her little finger discovered something. Looking closely, Nancy saw an irregular black object wedged between the boards!

Terry Scott’s antique half-key!

Taking a nail file from her purse, Nancy dug out the relic and presented it to the young man upon his return. He could hardly believe his good fortune.

“You’re a cool detective! I’m sure that from now on our case will prosper.”

Nancy was amused by the word “our,” but merely said, “I’m afraid I haven’t been very helpful so far. I was only two feet from the man you want to catch, and let him get away!”

“But you proved something,” Terry Scott insisted. “I know now that Juarez is on my trail. He probably has learned about the half-key and means to steal it. Also, you discovered that he’s on his way to Florida with his wife, and that they travel under an assumed name.”

“We don’t know that for certain,” Nancy reminded him. “We’re only guessing.”

The young professor laughed. “Now I’m sure you’re a lawyer’s daughter. That careful, logical mind! Well, how about it? Will you stay on the case and help me solve my puzzle?”

Nancy’s curiosity was thoroughly aroused. But nice as Terry Scott seemed, she must check on him first. Nancy decided to talk the matter over with her father.

“If you’ll tell me where you’re staying, I promise to let you know soon,” she replied.

Reluctantly the young man accepted her decision, saying he was staying at the Claymore HoteL Then, after thanking her, he went to call a taxi.

As Nancy walked across the parking lot toward her car, she heard a shout. Sergeant Malloy was sternly leading an angry, gesticulating man. Nancy recognized him as Juarez’s companion—the man who had driven the blue sedan.

“Arrest me, will you?” he roared. “It’s this girl—you said her name’s Nancy Drew—she’s the one you ought to arrest!”

CHAPTER III

Clue in a Triangle

NANCY looked at the heavy-set man in amazement. Sergeant Malloy protested, “Come, now. What do you have against Miss Drew?”

“Plenty,” he answered, his gray-green eyes flashing. “She sent you to embarrass me. Look how everybody’s staring at me, as if I was going to jail. She’s hurt my good name. I’ve been doing business in River Heights and people know me. My reputation is worth money. My business—”

“What kind of business?” interrupted the sergeant.

“I sell citrus fruit for the Tropical Sun Fruit Company of Florida.”

Sergeant Malloy grumbled, “Let’s see your driver’s license and car registration.”

The man thrust them under Malloy’s nose. Nancy and the sergeant studied them together. The license and registration were made out to Wilfred Porterly on a street in Miami, Florida.

“All right, Mr. Porterly,” said the sergeant. “Tell me one thing. Where’s your friend?”

“Juarez Tino,” Nancy added.

Porterly blinked and hesitated, then said, “I don’t know any Juarez Tino.”

“How about the man who rode in your car? Is his name Conway King?” Nancy asked.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “I never saw him before. He begged a ride. Told me he’d left some important papers at his hotel. Couldn’t find a taxi, so he asked me to take him back to town.

“After he picked up his papers, I drove him here to the airport. He made me drive onto the field so he wouldn’t miss his plane.”

“And you nearly killed yourself and all the plane passengers just to accommodate a stranger?” Malloy said sarcastically.

“It wasn’t my fault. He grabbed the wheel.”

Nancy pretended surprise. “You say Juarez took the wheel?”

“Sure. I mean—I don’t know what his name was.”

Porterly must have felt that his words had trapped him. He turned his fury on Nancy.

“You’re responsible. If there’d been a crash, you’d have been to blame!”

“Nancy Drew,” stated a firm, angry voice from the crowd, “is a very fine girl. You’d better be careful what you say about her.”

Nancy turned in astonishment. An athletic-looking, dark-haired girl was striding toward her. She was Nancy’s friend, George Fayne. With her was pretty Bess Marvin, her cousin.

“What is it all about?” Bess whispered when they reached Nancy’s side. “I found I’d left my hatbox, so I asked George to drive back here with me.”

“Tell you later,” Nancy said in a low voice.

“You’d better quiet down,” the sergeant was telling Porterly, “or I’ll arrest you for disturbing the peace. Sell all the grapefruit you want, but behave yourself. I’ll be watching you.”

Porterly hesitated. Then, with a baleful look, he turned and walked rapidly toward his sedan.

Sergeant Malloy spoke to the crowd. “All right, folks, break it up.” With a wave of his hand at Nancy and her friends, he strode off.

George Fayne watched the disappearing figure of the blustering Porterly.

“Hypers, Nancy,” she scolded, “you do get mixed up with the strangest characters.”

“Nancy, you aren’t involved in another mystery before you even get home!” Bess exclaimed.

“Well,” Nancy confessed, “I’m not sure.”

The three girls walked together to Nancy’s car and she stepped in.

“We have company,” George whispered.

Nancy looked through the rear window of her car. Terry Scott was hurrying toward her and

waving an arm. Nancy introduced him to Bess and George.

“I’m sorry about that rumpus with Porterly,” Terry began. “I was in a booth trying to call a taxi. I heard shouts, but I hadn’t any idea you were involved.”

“No harm done,” said Nancy. “My friends here came to my defense.”

“And we mean to keep on defending you until we get you safely home,” George promised.

Terry grinned. “Since your friends protect you so well, perhaps you’ll drive me to my hotel. Every public taxi in this town seems to be busy.”

“I guess it’ll be safe.” Nancy laughed.

As the car rolled toward River Heights, Bess and George drove directly in back of her. When she pulled up in front of the Claymore Hotel, Terry reached into his pocket and brought out the tissue-wrapped half-key.

“I want you to keep this for me,” he said to Nancy, “both as a pledge of my integrity and because I no longer dare keep it myself.”

“You mean someone like Juarez may try to steal the key?” Nancy asked.

Terry nodded and said, “This must never get in the hands of the wrong people. Please take my case,” he went on. “I believe that you are the person who can solve it.”

Nancy hesitated to take the key until she knew him better, but decided to show it to her father when she asked his advice about the case. Aloud she said, “You’ll hear from me tomorrow.”

Nancy slipped the relic into her shoulder bag. As Terry entered his hotel, Bess and George pulled up alongside her.

“Lucky you!” Bess called out.

“He’s charming,” George teased. “I’m sending an application to Keystone University!”