Читать книгу A Ghost In The Closet - Mabel Maney - Страница 12

A quick search of the four main exhibition halls proved fruitless. “Have you seen a man in a dark trenchcoat carrying six poodles and an umbrella?” they queried everyone they met, but to their utter dismay, no one remembered any such fellow.

“What’s that peculiar odor?” Cherry heard people cry when they smelled the aromatic sleuth. But Nancy didn’t seem at all concerned by the commotion she was causing as she pushed through the crowd, craning her neck in search of their suspect and waving her arms about.

“Nancy’s so brave,” Cherry thought, her bosom swelling with pride at the sight of the flailing detective.

A shrill yip suddenly caught their attention. “Was that a poodle, Midge?” Nancy asked her chum.

Midge shook her head and pointed toward a small cage being wheeled by an elderly gentleman. Inside was a tan and white chihuahua perched on a purple velvet pillow fringed by gay green pom-poms. “A poodle’s yap is higher and shriller,” Midge explained.

Just then a coon hound threw back his head and started to howl. Soon all the dogs in the room were barking and howling, whining and whoofing. Nancy led her chums back to the hallway, and once there, explained her scheme.

“I deliberately sprayed myself with Mrs. Meeks’ potent perfume hoping to gain the attention of her poodle Precious. Midge, didn’t you say earlier that a dog’s sense of smell is three hundred times stronger than that of a human’s? I was so hoping that Precious would recognize this odor and bark.”

Cherry gasped. Nancy’s keen logic never ceased to amaze her!

“But in that din, we’ll never recognize Precious’ bark,” Nancy continued. “I’m going back to the Poodle Room to search for clues. Midge, you search the Police Dog Room, Cherry, you check out the Saint Bernard Rescue Trials and Velma, search over there by the dancing terriers,” she directed.

But before the girls could split up, Midge spied a tall, thin man wearing a dark trenchcoat, not ten feet from her. He was pulling a large black trunk with one hand and had an umbrella tucked under the other arm.

“There he is!” Midge cried to her friends. “Hey, you! Stop!” she yelled, taking off after him. At the sight of the girl, the man’s face blanched in fright, and he took off down the long corridor; the heavy trunk rocked to and fro as he rudely pushed past people, striking some of them in the legs.

Cherry was thankful that she had had the foresight to include in her first-aid kit sterile bandages and germicidal ointment for the scraped shins of surprised spectators.

Midge leapt over an enormous Irish wolfhound in an effort to catch the suspect, who, despite his heavy burden, was slipping away. He would have disappeared around the next corner had he not become entangled in the leash of a miniature smooth-coated dachshund who had unwittingly blocked his path.

“Curses!” the man cried, dropping the black trunk as he struggled to free himself. Just as Midge was closing in on him, he glared at her with a fierce mocking gaze, opened his umbrella over his head and—poof! In the wink of an eye, the man disappeared in a cloud of pink smoke!

Cherry gaped at the spot where the man, just moments before, had stood. “Why, he’s gone!” she shrieked. “The trunk is moving!” Cherry then cried. The trunk was indeed bumping about on the slick tile floor, seemingly of its own volition!

Midge, her wits still intact, raced over to the trunk but found it locked. Using Velma’s nail file, she was soon able to break the lock and fling open the lid. Midge grinned with glee when six nervous poodles in various stages of disarray hopped out and covered her face with little wet kisses. The crowd gave a happy sigh of relief when they saw the missing pups. True, two poodles’ topknots had been tangled beyond ready repair, and Mrs. Meeks’ Precious would surely benefit from a good bath—and quick—but on the whole, the six missing dogs seemed to be in fine fettle.

“Frank Hardly’s saved the dogs!” the crowd cried. “Hip, hip hooray!”