Puzzling Information

Meanwhile, Nancy had filled out an application at Millington. When the manager, whose name according to a sign on his desk was T. Iannone, reviewed it, he looked at her closely.

“So you want a job, eh? I think, Miss Drew, it’s more likely you’re here to snoop! ”

His biting remark hit Nancy unexpectedly, and she decided to tell him the truth. “Could we speak privately? ” she suggested, glancing at a nearby secretary who was pretending not to listen, but Nancy could see she was interested in the conversation.

“This way, ” the manager said, leading Nancy into an inner office. “I happen to know that you were Jacqueline Henri’s replacement in the fashion show the other night—and that Richard Reese has asked you to help track down a dress thief. News travels fast in this business.”

“Yes, I can see that.” The girl detective knew it wouldn’t help to disguise her motive for being at Millington’s and went straight to the point. “How do you explain the fact that copies of Mr. Reese’s original dresses turned up in your spring catalog before the originals were made public? ” Nancy asked.

“I have no idea.”

“But you admit the Millington dresses are copies of Mr. Reese‘s, ” the girl reiterated.

“I’m not admitting anything. We run a very clean business here. Anyway, the Reese name doesn’t appear with any of our merchandise, so obviously we’re not making extra money off it.”

That was an interesting clue, Nancy thought. Without the name of the designer attached to the clothes, they wouldn’t be so valuable. So perhaps the thief cared less about the designs themselves and more about destroying Mr. Reese’s business!

“Mr. Reese is very upset, ” the girl continued. “He’s determined to get to the bottom of this and to sue whoever is involved in the matter.”

The man yielded reluctantly. “What do you want me to do about it? ” he asked.

“I want you to hire me so I can get to know a few of the people who work around here.”

Again there was a long pause.

“Tell me what kind of work you’re capable of doing, ” Mr. Iannone sighed.

As he spoke, Nancy was aware of someone eavesdropping outside the door, but the person moved away upon realizing the manager was in conference.

“I’ll gladly take any job that will provide contact with your staff.”

“In that case, I suggest you help out as a stylist, ” he said, “You can begin tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll introduce you to someone who’ll show you what to do.”

He led the girl to a windowless workroom filled with a large table, dressing mirrors, an ironing board, and racks on which hung dresses with tags. In one corner stood a small desk.

“Now wait here, ” the manager said, closing the door.

“Thank you, ” Nancy said.

She peeked at the dresses, which were made of a rough cotton material, and noted the uneven stitching along the seams. Unlike the apparel in the Chalmers book, these clothes were cheap-looking.

Nancy went to a chair at the far end of the room and sat down. Suddenly, the lights went out, throwing her into total darkness!

A moment later, she heard shouts in the hallway. Doors were slamming, people were yelling, and it seemed to Nancy that a general panic had broken out.

The electricity must have gone off in all the offices, the girl said to herself. I’d better get out of here!

She groped her way through the room, careful to avoid the clothing racks, but then grazed against the corner of the table.

“Ouch! ” Nancy winced and rubbed her hip. “That hurt! ” From then on, she hesitated before every step. Finally, she made it to the door and fumbled for the knob. When she turned it, a flash of fear stabbed through her. The door was locked!

The young detective paused a moment, her mind whirling. Did someone lock her in on purpose? Mr. Iannone, perhaps? It must have happened after the lights went out, when all the noise started, she reasoned. Otherwise, she would have heard the click.

Who else knew I was in here? Did Mr. Iannone tell the person who was to train me? Nancy asked herself.

She banged her fist against the door and called out, but no one came.

Bess, in the meantime, was struggling through her own typing test. She went along more slowly than George, careful not to make any mistakes. But she had finished only half the assignment when the personnel manager stopped her.

“Time’s up, dear, ” she said. “Now let me see what you’ve done.”

Her smile faded rapidly when she realized that Bess had filled less than a page.

“It’s very neat, ” she said, “but you’ll have to build up your speed if you want to work here.”

“Yes, ma‘am, ” Bess replied, adding hopefully, “Is there something else I could try? ” George had raised the same question.

“I don’t think so, ” the woman said. “Let me check my files, though.”

She disappeared briefly, letting the girls chat during her absence. Bess quickly told George that Chris Chavez had done the photos for the store catalog.

Soon the personnel manager returned with a folder. “Have either of you had any bookkeep ing experience? ” she asked.

“Not a bit, ” Bess said promptly.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’ve nothing for you.”

Before the cousins left, however, George decided to ask about Chris Chavez. “We met him at a benefit fashion show the other evening, ” she explained.

“Here in New York? ” the woman replied in bewilderment. “Are you sure it was Chris? ”

“Yes, why? ”

“Because he’s been on assignments for us in Europe. He only flew back to New York yesterday! ”

The girls were surprised, but did not press the conversation further. Their job applications had just been turned down and they didn’t wish to create undue suspicion about themselves. So, after thanking the woman for her evident kindness to them, they said good-bye and headed for Jacqueline Henri’s apartment.

“Too bad we didn’t get jobs at Chalmers, ” George said.

“I feel terrible, ” her cousin mumbled as their cab came to a halt in front of a building marked “15.”

“Well, don’t. Look at it this way, ” George said. “We picked up that great piece of information about Chris Chavez.”

“Doesn’t prove anything.”

“Even so, it adds another intriguing aspect.”

The girls stopped speaking as they opened the door of the apartment building. To their right was a bank of mailboxes and a small television screen. Ahead was another door that was locked.

“They sure believe in security, don’t they? ” Bess commented, pressing a button next to the name Henri.

A few minutes passed. Nothing happened and the girls concluded that the model was not at home.

“Let me try again, ” Bess said. This time she held the buzzer half a second more and a voice responded.

“Who is it? ” The voice was distorted by the loudspeaker.

“Jacqueline, is that you? ” Bess replied.

“Who? ”

“I’m looking for Jacqueline Henri, ” Bess continued.

“There’s no one here by that name, ” the voice said and clicked off.

George rechecked the address. It was correct! They scanned the names on the wall directory, discovering there was only one Henri listed.

“Maybe there’s something wrong with the buzzer system, ” Bess said.

George tended to doubt that, but she was determined not to leave the building without visiting 3-C. As a couple came out through the locked doors, she quickly stepped up and held them open for Bess.

They rode the elevator to the third floor and turned left around a corner. There were no names on the apartment doors, only brass knockers. George was about to lift the one on 3-C when they heard a man’s voice filter through.

“It’s your job to keep Nancy occupied, ” he said, as he was walking toward the door.

“He’s leaving! ” George whispered. “Let’s get out of here! ”

Quickly, the girls scooted back toward the elevator. They heard the apartment door slam, and Bess grabbed George’s hand. “He’ll see us once he comes around the corner. What’ll we do? ”

“Let’s hide on the other side, ” George gasped, and pulled her cousin in the opposite direction from apartment 3-C. They rounded another corner and pressed themselves closely against the wall.

The man’s footsteps could be heard approaching the elevator. “I’m going to take a look, ” George declared boldly, and, for a second, she stuck her head around the corner. Then she pulled back with a little gasp, covering her mouth at the same time to stifle the sound.

Bess tugged impatiently on her cousin’s hand. “Well, who is it? ”

“Chris Chavez! ”

“The first one or the second one? ”

“The first one! ”

They heard the elevator doors open. The man entered, and soon all was quiet as the elevator descended.

“Oh, I wish we could follow him! ” Bess murmured.

“We can. Come on, down the stairs! ”

George led the way to the stairwell. The girls flew down, taking two steps at a time, hoping the elevator would stop on another floor to delay Chavez. However, when they reached the lobby, the elevator was there, empty, and there was no sign of the photographer. Quickly, the young detectives hurried out into the street and looked in both directions. Nothing!