might have been afraid they’d lose control of her and she’d make a scene.”
“So what do you plan to do?” Grace asked, her tone telling Nancy that she was in reluctant agreement with what the young detective had just said.
“Well, first I think I’ll talk to Jennifer about going over to the house she and her mother lived in. I know she doesn’t have a key to the place, but it is her home, so I don’t see why anyone should object to our going inside and looking around, do you?”
Grace shook her head.
“Then I was wondering, do you know what happened to the things Clarinda and Leroy Catlin left behind? You said that they left suddenly, so I don’t imagine they could have taken very much with them.”
“True, but considering the years that have gone by since, who’s to say that the place wasn’t taken over by the state or even vandalized?” “I’ll see if I can find out,” Grace said. “Some of my friends might know.”
“There just might be a clue hidden in what they left behind,” Nancy murmured. “Besides, there really isn’t much else I can try, is there?”
Grace smiled at her, her eyes sparkling. “It sounds to me like you’ve really been thinking about your mysteries and you are going to have a busy time today.”
Nancy nodded. “I think it’s time we started making things happen instead of just waiting around to see what comes next.”
“I’ll go and make some calls while you get dressed,” Grace promised, getting to her feet. “We can make plans over breakfast.”
13. Discoveries
Grace was bubbling with news by the time Nancy came downstairs. “I think we’re in luck, Nancy,” she said as they all sat down to a breakfast of waffles and sausages. “It seems that most of the Catlins’ belongings are still on their ranch.”
“How can that be?” Ned asked. “That was thirty years ago.”
“Well, Leroy owned the ranch outright and he has a lot of friends in the area. They believed in his innocence at the time of the robbery and they were determined that he shouldn’t lose everything. They sold off all the stock and set up some kind of trust. They lease the land for grazing and for crops, and use the income to pay the taxes. They plan that everything will still be there waiting when Leroy returns.”
“Wow,” Nancy breathed. “They must have really believed in him.”
“Enough so that they left everything at the house pretty much the way it was when Leroy and Lindy slipped out of the state.” Grace paused, then added, “I talked to Bob Westmorelin and he was very eager to help you in your search. He’s agreed to meet us out at the ranch this afternoon. He has the keys to the house.”
“Grace, that’s wonderful,” Nancy congratulated her, feeling much better. “Dad was right when he said that you’d be invaluable to our investigation.”
“A terrible injustice was done thirty years ago,” Grace replied. “I’d like very much to see it corrected, and this seems to be the only way that can be accomplished.”
“I only hope we can find something to give us a direction for our search to continue,” Nancy said.
“If there is a clue to be found out there, you’ll find it,” Ned assured her.
“Well, at least it gives us a place to start,” was all Nancy was willing to say.
"What do you have planned for this morning?” Ned asked.
“I was thinking we might pay a visit to the house on Costiller Street,” Nancy answered.
“You don’t think Jennifer’s mother has come back, do you?” Ned asked. “You haven’t heard something?”
Nancy shook her head. “It just occurred to me that Jennifer has every right to enter that house whether her mother is there or not. And she could invite her friends to join her, couldn’t she?”
Jennifer grinned at Nancy, the light of hope bright in her eyes. “Would you like to come and visit me?” she invited.
“Do you think there might be some clue there?” Ned asked.
Nancy shrugged. “Well, Sergeant Hill told us that Lorna stayed there before she disappeared. For all we know, she might have received a telegram or something that caused her to leave town. It could tell us where she went.”
“But if she knew that Jennifer was coming home . . .” Grace protested.
“She may not have known,” Nancy reminded her. “Now that we know that there is a woman who is working with those men, we can probably assume that she is the one who called the DeCateur Academy and asked them to send Jennifer home.”
“I never thought of that,” Grace admitted. “Well, if that is the case, Lorna Buckman’s disappearance might be a perfectly natural trip that she just didn’t happen to mention to any of her neighbors.”
“You mean maybe Mom really isn’t lost?” Jennifer asked, her eyes bright with hope.
“That is what we are going to try to find out just as soon as we finish cleaning up after breakfast,” Nancy told her, hoping for Jennifer’s sake that she was right in her theory.
The house looked more bedraggled than it had the first time they had come by, but Nancy didn’t allow that to discourage her. She had come fully determined to pick the lock on the door, but as they drove up in front, Jennifer said, “Do you suppose that the key is still hidden in the same place?”
“What key?” Nancy and Ned chorused.
Jennifer giggled. “I forgot till right now. Mom and I got locked out once a long time ago .aid I had to go in through the window. After that, Mom hid a key under one of the stepping stones out in back. Do you want me to go see if it is still there?”
“I sure do,” Nancy told her, laughing as the little girl went skipping around the house.
“Think she’ll find it?” Ned asked as they waited.
“I hope so,” Nancy answered. “I know that what we’re doing isn’t wrong, but I’d still feel very much like a housebreaker, picking the lock.”
“You’d be a pretty one, too,” Ned teased.
Nancy started to answer him, but the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her.
“I found it!” Jennifer shouted, appearing around the corner of the house, the tarnished, muddy key swinging from a chain in her hand.
“Terrific,” Nancy said. “Let’s go inside.”
The air trapped inside the house was stale and heavy, smelling from the heat of the past days. Nancy wrinkled her nose. “Let’s open the windows and let some fresh air in,” she suggested.
Opened blinds and windows seemed to lighten the mood of the house, but the sunshine that streamed in revealed nothing to help them. The living room was neatly kept, and attractive without being pretentious.
Nancy crossed the room and picked up the folded newspaper that lay on the footstool in front of the most comfortable chair. She opened it, noting that it was dated two days before they had arrived in Cheyenne.
“Would you know if any of your mother’s clothes were missing?” Nancy asked Jennifer. “I mean, could you tell if she took a suitcase full of them out of the closet?”
The blonde considered, then shook her head. “I haven’t seen Mom since Christmas. I don’t know what clothes she has now.”
“Well, I’ll go look,” Nancy said. “Maybe I can tell.”
The larger of the two bedrooms, which Jennifer had said was her mother’s, was not quite as neat as the living room had been, but there were no signs of hasty departure. Nancy opened the closet reluctantly and peered inside. Two suitcases were stacked on the shelf and most of the hangers seemed to be filled.
Only when she crossed to the small desk in the comer did she find a clue. A piece of blue stationery was lying out on the desk top alongside an envelope addressed to Jennifer at the Academy.
Hating the necessity of reading other people’s mail, Nancy read the few lines written beneath the date, which was the same as that on the newspaper.
Darling Jenny,
I’m feeling so much stronger every day, I’m sure it will be possible for you to come home sometime next month. You can go to school
here with all your friends from the Pony Club and . . .
The letter stopped there as though the writer had been suddenly called away. Nancy stared at it, frustrated.
“Find anything?” Ned called from the front of the house.
“Proof that Lorna never called the Academy,” Nancy answered, carrying the unfinished letter out to show it to Ned and Jennifer.
“Then where is my mother?” Jennifer asked, her eyes dark with worry. “I thought you said she might have gone on a trip or something.” “I was hoping that she had,” Nancy confessed. “Now I just don’t know, Jennifer.” She turned to Ned. “Did you find anything in the kitchen when you searched it?”
“Some sour milk and spoiled fruit and vegetables in the refrigerator, dirty dishes in the sink, nothing else. It looks as though Lorna Buckman just walked out the door for a minute and didn’t come back.” He paused. “You didn’t find anything else?”
“There are two suitcases still stacked up on the closet shelf,” Nancy answered.
“So where do we go from here?” Ned asked. “Any ideas?”
Nancy wandered back into the living room and sank down on the small couch. “I’m not sure,” she admitted.
“Did you say you wanted to get some of your clothes from here to take back to Grace’s, Jennifer?” Ned asked, turning his attention to the unhappy child.
Jennifer nodded. “I’ll have to try the clothes on,” she warned. “Most of the things I left behind might be too small.”
“No hurry,” Nancy assured her, realizing what Ned was doing. “We’ll just wait out here for you.”
Once Jennifer was out of earshot, Ned leaned forward. “You don’t think her mother left on her own, do you?” he inquired.
Nancy shook her head. “Without taking any of her clothes? Leaving dishes in the sink? Food to spoil in the refrigerator? A letter half done? And her car is in the garage, remember.” “Mustache and Company?” Ned suggested. “They seem to be the most likely suspects,” Nancy agreed. “And they were hanging around the airport when we arrived. They could have been waiting for Jennifer.”
“For a little girl traveling alone,” Ned said. “Her being with us must have really ruined their plans.”
Nancy nodded.
“So what do we do now?”
“I’m beginning to think the only thing we can do is try to trap them,” Nancy murmured, thinking as she spoke. “Maybe we could capture one of them and make him tell us where Lorna is.” “That could be a dangerous plan,” Ned warned her.
“If they have Lorna, she is already in danger,” Nancy countered. “And besides, I can’t see any other way to find her, can you?” Ned had to shake his head. “I still don’t like it,” he told her, then changed the subject to their plans for the afternoon when Jennifer came out to join them.
“Ready to go, Jennifer?” Nancy asked, raising an eyebrow as Jennifer laid a single cotton knit top on the chair.
“I guess so,” Jennifer answered with a sigh. “Nothing else fits.”
“That’s too bad,” Nancy sympathized, then got to her feet. “Oh, before we go, do you know if your mother has an address book?” she asked. “I forgot to look in the desk.”
“She has one all right, but she always kept it in her purse,” Jennifer responded.
“I didn’t see a purse anywhere,” Ned said. “Did you?”
Nancy and Jennifer shook their heads. “Maybe we should check around, just to be sure,” Nancy suggested.
“I’ll go look in the desk,” Jennifer volunteered.
“If you find any old letters, bring them, too,” Nancy called after her. “Maybe we can get some addresses, someone else we can contact.”
There was no sign of Lorna Buckman’s purse in any of the rooms Nancy searched, which she felt was rather reassuring. A woman leaving on her own would be sure to take her purse with her; a woman being kidnapped might not be allowed to take it, she reasoned.
“No address book,” Jennifer said as she emerged from the bedroom. “And no purse anywhere in there, but I did find this. It’s from my grandmother.” She handed Nancy an envelope.
Nancy opened it, then looked at Jennifer. “No letter?” she asked.
Jennifer shook her head. “Mom throws the letters away as soon as she answers them. The envelope was stuck in the corner of the drawer; that’s why it wasn’t gone, too.”
“There isn’t even a return address,” Nancy said with a sigh as she turned the envelope over and checked the back. “Just a Los Angeles postmark.”
“I’m sorry I don’t know the address,” Jennifer murmured. “It’s just that my grandparents had to move last winter and I don’t remember the new address.”
Nancy went to the little girl at once and put a consoling arm around her shoulders. “We’ll find your mother, don’t worry,” she promised, hoping that the words were true.
“Well, we’d better get going,” Ned interrupted. “We’re supposed to drop Jennifer off at the Carletons’ by eleven, you know.”
“Right,” Nancy said, tucking the envelope into her pocket. She gave the living room a last, long look, then moved to close the windows and drapes so that everything was the way they’d found it.
As she did so, her resolve hardened. There had to be a way to bring Lorna Buckman home and she had to find it. Time could be running out for Jennifer and for her mother!
14. Clarinda
The Catlin ranch was a thirty-minute drive from Grace’s house, thanks to the heavy traffic. Nancy made the trip in nearly complete silence, her mind busy with plans. Nothing she could think of, however, seemed satisfactory, and after she discarded each one, she felt more depressed.
Once they reached the ranch, she saw little to lift her spirits, for it was far more rundown and neglected-looking than the small house in town had been. Grace sighed as she got out of the car and waved a greeting to a portly, balding man who appeared to be in his sixties.
“It doesn’t look like they’d have much to come back to now, does it?” she observed.
“In the last thirty years, I suppose they’ve built a new life somewhere else, anyway,” Nancy said.
Introductions were made and Mr. Westmore- lin led the way up on the rotting timber of the front porch of the ranch house. “I’m afraid the place isn’t in very good shape, Miss Drew,” he acknowledged. “There was a time when we took care of the ranch house and really hoped that Leroy and Lindy would come back, but after so long . . .”
“We understand, Mr. Westmorelin,” Nancy assured him.
“Actually, I’m really surprised that anyone was still interested enough in the Catlins to hire you to find them,” he said, curiosity bright in his eyes.
Nancy hesitated for a moment, then decided that there really wasn’t any point in secrecy. “I’m not exactly looking for the Catlins,” she admitted. “I’m seeking Clarinda Winthrop. Her father is old and ill and he wants to see her and perhaps mend the breach between them before he dies.”
“But . . Mr. Westmorelin frowned. “What does that have to do with Leroy and Lindy and finding them?”
“According to Joshua Webber, Lindy Catlin is really the missing Clarinda Winthrop,” Grace supplied.
“You mean Lindy wasn’t her real name?” Mr. Westmorelin looked skeptical. “That’s pretty strange, Miss Drew.”
“I believe she changed her name when she first arrived in Cheyenne,” Nancy told him. “She was probably afraid that her father would try to find her and force her to return home.” “Her father. But I thought that she and Leroy were going to her people when they left here after the robbery,” Mr. Westmorelin protested.
“What made you think that?” Nancy asked, instantly alert for a clue.
“Well, I promised never to say anything about them slipping away like they did, but now . . . Heck, Miss Drew, I helped them load up that old station wagon. Leroy himself told me that they were going to go to her family for help.”
“They couldn’t have done that,” Nancy said. “Acc
ording to Mr. Winthrop, he disinherited his daughter because of her involvement with Mr. Catlin. I’m sure he’d be the last person they would turn to when her husband was in trouble.”
“Is this Mr. Winthrop living in California?” Mr. Westmorelin asked.
Nancy shook her head. “He lives on an estate near River Heights. Why do you ask that?”
Mr. Westmorelin looked guilty. “That’s something else I never told anybody at the time . . . or since, for that matter. Leroy had a couple of maps on the car seat—California maps.”
“And you think that was where they were heading?” Ned asked.
Mr. Westmorelin nodded.
“Do you know anything else?” Nancy queried. “Anything at all?”
The man thought for several minutes, then shook his head. “I wish I could help you, Miss Drew, but if I’d had any idea where they were, I would have started a search myself once Leroy’s name was cleared of the suspicion over the bank holdup. He loved this old place, really loved it.” He sighed. “Of course, he wouldn’t be too crazy about it if he could see the way it looks now; but at that time .. .”
Mr. Westmorelin unlocked the door and pushed it open, ignoring the creaking protests of the hinges. There was a distant sound of scampering feet that made Nancy reluctant to enter, but she steeled herself and stepped into the dusty, dark interior.
“I’m afraid there isn’t any electricity anymore, but there should be some lanterns around and we can open all the shutters.” Mr. Westmorelin moved efficiently to admit both light and fresh air, then lit the lanterns.
Nancy thanked him profusely.
The inside of the ranch house had once been comfortable and attractive, but time and the owners of the scampering feet had reduced it to near ruin. The padded furniture had been shredded for nesting, papers were scattered a- bout, and dust and dirt lay like a pall over the scene. Nancy stared at it with a sinking feeling, her hopes of finding any clues dissolving around her.