The Sinister Omen by Carolyn Keene
''So you're here for the beach parties and the fun and games," Angus said and turned to Bess as the maid brought him a chair and handed him a tall orange drink.
"That's right," Bess replied and smiled prettily.
"It's a great place," Angus said. "We used to live in the West, until I came here on my spring break two years ago. I wound up staying. My father is an industrialist, or was. He decided to retire and bought that house. We just love it."
''Do you still go to college?" Nancy asked him.
"No. I just loaf and take care of my father's boats and cars." He continued to look with great interest at Bess. This was not lost on Dave, who walked around the edge of the group.
"I understand your father, Carson Drew, is here," Angus now addressed Nancy.
"Why, yes. How did you know?"
"The neighborhood grapevine," the young man replied, "has it that he and Señor Segovia are chasing a bunch of thieves. I hope they're making progress?"
"I really don't know," Nancy said. She had trained herself not to discuss her father's business, or her own, with anyone. "I swim and he works, poor man."
"I understand" Angus went on, "that the Brotherhood of the Vulture is involved in this thievery and smuggling"
"How did you know that?" Nancy asked. She was beginning to wonder why this young man was so inquisitive.
"Easy," Angus said. "Their symbol is pasted onto the side of Señor Segovia's dock!"
"What?" Nancy gasped, and everyone rushed to the edge of the dock to peer over. There, indeed, was the buzzard decal!
"How could that have gotten there?" Bess wailed.
''Fairly easy," Angus replied. ''Someone could have sailed past, stopped for a moment, and stuck it on."
"But Señor Segovia has a twenty-four-hour guard," Nancy pointed out. "It would be pretty difficult."
"Nevertheless," Angus said, "it was done." He lounged carelessly in his chair, adjusting the crease in his expensive slacks. "Someone did it. And he is giving you a very definite warning."
''Possibly," Nancy said coolly. "Perhaps those people think that Señor Segovia and my father will be frightened by it. But it won't work."
''Well" Angus suggested, "I would be very careful, anyway. They're bad people to fool with. But say!'' He got to his feet and spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. ''Why don't you all be my guests for lunch on The Flying Scot and come for a sail?"
The six friends looked from one to another.
"That would be scrumptious!" Bess squealed. "Your boat is so beautiful."
"I don't know," Dave objected. "I think Con-suelo's already preparing lunch here."
"At ten o'clock?" Angus laughed. "I'm sure she hasn't started yet and her staff would love the rest. Come on with me. We'll sail out into the open sea for a while, fish a bit if you like, talk, dance, and have some cool drinks. Later— lunch."
Dave's reluctance was easily overcome since both Ned and Burt were eager to go. So was George. Nancy cast the crucial vote in favor of accepting Angus's invitation, not so much because of the ride, but because she wanted to find out more about Angus Campbell.
His questions earlier had struck her the wrong way. Also, the young man seemed too purposeful and intelligent to be just a loafer, as he called himself.
Another thing that bothered her was that the two crewmen who actually sailed the ship were rather hard-looking people, and not the least bit friendly to the group. Apparently, neither of them knew English, because Angus talked to them in French. Why would the Campbells hire a crew that didn't speak their language?
As the young people cruised down the In-tracoastal Waterway toward the dock area known as Port Everglades, Campbell's Chinese cook and galley man brought his guests sodas. Tapes were played to provide dance music, and the River Heights vacationers scampered all over the boat, admiring the expensive fixtures and the beautiful staterooms that looked as if they belonged on an ocean liner.
Only Dave stood silently, sipping his Coke and watching a laughing Bess dance with Angus Campbell. Ned came up beside him and talked mischievously into Dave's ear.
"Boy, this is a floating palace, isn't it? Just fabulous."
"I know. It's wonderful," Dave grumbled. "What do you want me to do, jump with joy?"
"No." Ned grinned. ''I was just thinking, here's this handsome Scottish devil with a big home, a gorgeous yacht, all this money. A personable guy, too. Well-educated, pleasant. What could he possibly want?"
Dave's eyes followed Angus and Bess, who were gliding gracefully around the floor in a slow dance.
"Could we talk about something else?'' he said uncomfortably.
''Sure, sure. But I had this idea. There's something Angus needs. And perhaps we should help him get it."
''What's that?" Dave cried, exasperated. He became angrier and angrier as he realized that both Angus and Bess were enjoying themselves immensely.
Ned looked innocently at Dave. "What Angus needs is a steady girlfriend. A girl all his own whom he really likes!"
It took a moment for Ned's teasing to sink in and by the time it had, he had disappeared and was looking down on Dave from the deck above.
"And here I thought you were my friend!" Dave called up to him, starting to smile in spite of himself. "It's a good thing you left, or there would have been a man overboard!"
16. Betrayed!
As the young people enjoyed themselves, Nancy was taking every available opportunity to look over The Flying Scot, seeking a clue to the mystery she felt in the personality of Angus Campbell. She noticed, however, that wherever she went, a crewman always seemed to be in view, pretending not to watch her. Yet Nancy's instinct told her that he was doing just that.
At last, she disappeared into the one place he could not follow her—the ornate master bathroom. Closing the door behind her and locking it, she surveyed the room decorated in marble and gold, and as large as her bedroom at home.
After an exhaustive search, she found nothing. She glanced down idly at the magazine rack next to the tub and began leafing through the periodicals. Suddenly, she stopped when she saw a newspaper from a Caribbean country. It was only four days old. She noticed that the rest of the magazines were in English. The Spanish newspaper, torn and crumpled, was the only foreign language publication in view.
Nancy scanned the front page, using her rudimentary knowledge of Spanish to piece together the main aspects of the stories. A mayor had been arrested for fraud. There had been a parade the previous day. At the bottom of the first page, she found what she was looking for—a short story about how a valuable stamp collection had been stolen from the home of a symphony conductor.
Putting the paper under her arm, Nancy exited from the bathroom in time to see the crewman whirl about and begin sweeping. He had obviously grown nervous at the length of time the young detective had been out of his sight.
Walking past him, she smiled. ''iHabla es-panol?'' she asked, meaning, "Do you speak Spanish?" The man simply stared at her. Nancy tried again, in French. ''Parlez-vous espagnol?"
The man smiled faintly and shook his head. ''Non, mademoiselle"
''Merci.'' Nancy swept past him and out to the fantail where the group of young people was gathered. She saw Bess talking with Angus and realized Dave's anguish. Catching Bess's eye, she made motions toward Dave and then pointed at herself and Angus. Bess smiled and nodded imperceptibly. A moment later, she excused herself and walked over to Dave, dragging the suddenly happy young man onto the dance floor.
Nancy slid into the chair next to their host.
''Well, Angus," she said, ''you have a very beautiful ship here. I can't thank you enough for inviting us."
"My pleasure." Angus smiled.
Skillfully, Nancy led the conversation around to college, to his education, and to foreign languages. He told her French was the only language he spoke besides English.
"And your crew only understands French?" Nancy asked.
"That's right. Except for the galley man, of cours
"Hm," Nancy said. "I found this Latin American newspaper and started to read it, but my Spanish isn't good enough. I was hoping someone could help me with an article on the front page that sounds interesting."
She put the paper on the table between them and watched his reaction. There was none.
"I have no idea who left it here" Angus said pleasantly. "But then, I have lots of guests. Several of them speak Spanish, so I couldn't tell you who brought the paper."
"Well," Nancy said, ''it's not that important. Have you been sailing in the Caribbean lately?''
"No," Angus said. ''The Flying Scot hasn't been out in a week."
Bess and Dave had walked up and overheard the conversation.
"That's strange," Dave said. "We didn't see her at your dock yesterday. And we have a good view of the canal."
"Oh," Angus said, seeming a bit befuddled. "Yes, that's right. Dad sent her up to Jacksonville for a few days for refitting."
Nancy felt he was lying. If the yacht had been in Jacksonville, where had the four-day-old Latin American newspaper come from? Angus apparently had not looked at the date, and now appeared at ease with his excuse. He's a cool customer, Nancy thought.
But rather than make him aware of her doubts, she turned the conversation in another direction, and they all had a marvelous time as they cruised and feasted for several hours before returning to the Segovia dock. When Nancy finally shook hands with Angus, however, she could tell from the look in his eyes that he was aware of her suspicion.
She hurried to tell her father and Señor Segovia about their encounter, only to find that both men were in the city and would be detained until late that evening.
"What's next on the agenda?'' Bess asked when they all sat down on the porch to discuss plans.
''Fun for the rest of the afternoon, work tonight," Nancy said.
"What kind of work?" George asked.
"Well, I'm afraid it's something I have to do all by myself," Nancy replied. "I'm going to stake out the Palmer house!"
"What!" Bess and George chorused.
"Why do you want to go by yourself?" Ned asked. "You have plenty of help around. Why put yourself into such danger?"
"I'm sure the thieves watch the place to make certain no one is home," Nancy said. "I have a plan to get into the house unnoticed, but there's no way to get you inside. But don't worry, I alerted the police and I'll call them as soon as the burglars arrive."
At seven-thirty p.m., the Segovia limousine drew up at the Palmer house, and the figure of Susan McAfee ahghted and walked quickly up the front steps. The door opened for her, and it wasn't until she was inside that Mrs. Palmer gave a little cry of surprise.
"My goodness!" the woman exclaimed as she stared at the girl before her. With a wig and dressed in Susan's clothes, stood Nancy Drew!
''Shh!" Nancy whispered. "Let me go right upstairs so Errol doesn't see me."
''Don't worry about him. I have him polishing everything in the back."
''Good. Will you pick up Susan's stuff in about ten minutes and return it to her? Also, please tell her to leave through the front door when she's ready to go out."
"Right."
Nancy scampered upstairs with her suitcase and entered the bedroom Mrs. Palmer had set aside for her. Hastily, she changed into her own clothes and turned Susan's things over to Mrs. Palmer.
"Very clever," the woman admitted. "If anyone was watching, they simply saw Susan arrive. And when we both leave, the house will officially be empty. But Nancy, I'm worried about you. You can't tackle the burglars all by yourself!"
"I won't," Nancy promised. "I alerted the police and Til call them as soon as someone enters the house. The thieves won't even know Tm here. There are phones upstairs, and that's where Til stay."
"Good," Mrs. Palmer said. 'T hope it works."
A half-hour later, Nancy watched out the window as her limousine took Mrs. Palmer and Miss McAfee away. She was now alone in the house. She checked the telephone in her bedroom to be sure it was in working order. Then she sat down to wait, which was the boring part but important. Without the patience to wait, her detective skills would be wasted.
After about two hours, she cautiously opened the bedroom door and tiptoed to the head of the stairs. She lay on her stomach and peered out between the bannister railings so she could see the front door. Then she thought of all the things that could happen and returned to the bedroom to work out an emergency plan in case the burglars trapped her on the second floor.
Opening the window to the roof, she climbed out. She found that by using a series of handholds, she could climb the steep mansard slope and make her way over the top onto a flatter part of the roof. She could not get any further than that unless she wanted to rely on a rickety drain spout, but she could see the street from
there and call for help. Not quite an escape route, she thought to herself, but better than nothing. Cautiously, she returned to the bedroom and closed the window. Then she crawled to her lookout post at the top of the stairs again.
They may not come through the front door, Nancy thought, but I have a central location at least.
The minutes ticked by and the old house creaked and groaned. But there was no human sound. Then, at about ten o'clock, she heard movement below and saw Errol walk to the front door. He opened it, though there had been no sound of the great door knocker. Two men entered, wearing work clothes. One carried a very large bag.
Nancy knew instantly that these were the burglars and, with a sinking heart, realized that the friendly, dependable Errol was indeed the inside man. She heard him say, "Might as well start in the parlor this time. But please try not to wreck things too badly.''
"We wouldn't have to wreck anything," one of the men growled, "if you were bright enough to find out where she keeps them."
"I've tried," Errol said, his voice almost breaking. "I've tried."
The men had passed from view now, into the parlor. Quickly but silently, Nancy slid to her feet and went back to her room. She picked up the phone and started to dial the police.
However, the line was now dead!
''Oh, no!" Nancy breathed, checking both ends of the cord, one connected to the phone, the other to the jack in the wall. Nothing seemed wrong with it. Quickly, Nancy went into the other bedroom that contained an extension. It was dead, too!
They cut the wire outside, Nancy thought. Probably as a safety measure before they came in.
From downstairs, she was beginning to hear sounds that tore her heart. The burglars were ripping apart the precious old upholstery. What to do? Could she slip into the center hall, get out of the house, and run for help? It was her only chance, and she had to try it.
Down the stairs she crept, her heart in her mouth as the sounds of destruction continued. Lightly, she ran across the open entranceway into the parlor where Errol and the burglars could see her if they were watching. But her luck held and she dashed to the door. She turned the knob and pulled. But the door would not budge!
She turned the knob the other way and pulled again. Frantically, she checked for possible bolts and locks, but found nothing.
Rrrrrip! The sound from the parlor was more than she could bear. Perhaps she could slip out of a window! She tried the nearest one, then another. But they were stuck tight, as Errol had said they were. The only window that seemed to open was in her bedroom!
She would have to go upstairs and call for help from the roof. But first she had to go past the parlor entrance again. Would her luck hold a second time?
Nancy had only taken a couple of steps when suddenly one of the burglars, his face flushed from his frantic work, loomed in front of her. She stared at him for a moment, then did the only thing she could think of—she screamed.
She made as much noise as she could on the theory that the one thing that makes thieves nervous is a lot of noise. At the same time, she rushed past the startled man and raced up the stairs. The burglar, who had been more surpris
With that, he started after the young detective. His partner came right on his heels.
Nancy ran into the bedroom, locked the door, and quickly pushed a dresser in front of it. But she knew it would not take the men long to break in. She had to act fast!
Taking a deep breath, she opened the window and climbed out. She scrambled up the steep mansard slope to the top of the roof as fast as she dared, yelling and screaming for help all the way up.
A passing motorist heard the turmoil and stopped. He jumped out of his car and looked up.
Nancy had by now reached the top of the roof. ''Please, sir," she cried out. ''Call the police. There are burglars in the house!"
The man stood rooted for a moment.
"Hurry!" Nancy urged. "They're coming after me!"
"Okay," the man shouted. 'Til get help." He leaped into his car and roared off.
As he disappeared around the next corner, Nancy heard the door of the bedroom splinter. Quickly, she climbed to the flatter part of the roof and made her way to the drain pipe. At the same time, she heard the window being thrown open and the voice of one of the burglars as he stepped on the roof.
But then came the sound Nancy had been waiting for. A police siren wailed in the distance! The burglars heard it, too. They quickly made their way back into the house, and ran downstairs. The next moment the front door slammed and they were gone.
Hastily, Nancy retraced her steps to the window, climbed through to the bedroom, then hurried down the stairs. She went into the parlor, which was a wreck, with chairs and sofas ripped open. But she did not stop to survey the damage. Instead, she raced to the kitchen. There she stopped in surprise.