LITMIR.BIZ

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      COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

      Copyright © 1958, renewed 1986 by Norvin Pallas.

      Published by Wildside Press LLC

      wildsidepress.com | bcmystery.com

      DEDICATION

      To Elsie & Bob

      CHAPTER 1

      SUMMER DOLDRUMS

      Rain, rain, and more rain. It had been raining steadily in Forestdale for nearly a week, just a light drizzle, not really hard enough to do anyone any good, but enough to interfere with most outdoor vacation pleasures. If it would only come down hard and get it over with—more than one person had been heard to grumble.

      But now the rain seemed to have let up for at least a while, ushering in a cool but pleasant day, with a hazy sky in which the sun shone almost apologetically. Ted Wilford and his friend, Nelson Morgan, had taken advantage of the break in the weather to go for a swim, and now sat on the edge of the pool, basking in the sun and waiting to get up enough ambition to plunge once more into the cold water.

      “Ready yet?” asked Nelson, not moving a muscle toward the water.

      “In a minute.” Ted, too, made no motion toward the pool. The park was located on the edge of town, and, being on slightly higher ground, gave a panoramic view of the community. Ted was in a meditative mood. These lazy summer days were fun but would soon end. A two-week vacation with his brother Ronald was coming up, and after that—college, and buckling down to a lot of hard work.

      “Not a bad little town,” Nelson commented, following his glance.

      “No, I guess not,” Ted agreed. “But I never really got to know any other town. I wonder how Forestdale will seem, after we’ve been away for nine months?”

      “We’ll be just aching to rush right back,” Nelson predicted. “Why not? It’s probably just as good as any other town, and it’s familiar besides.”

      “You may be right. But so far we’ve lived here more or less because we had to. After college, I suppose we can sort of choose where we want to live. I wonder if we’ll choose Forestdale?”

      “Well, it’s kind of a dead place at times,” said Nelson critically, “but the newspaper manages to keep something stirred up most of the time. Mr. Dobson does his best to keep this the kind of town that’s worth coming back to. What did you and Carl Allison argue about this time?”

      Ted looked disgruntled. Having a close friend who could sometimes read your mind had its disadvantages.

      “What makes you think we had an argument?” he demanded.

      “Number one, you always do. Number two, you’ve been going around with your jaw hanging loose. Number three, you haven’t gone near the Town Crier office for a few days.”

      “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it an argument,” explained Ted carefully. “You know how things have been going down there. Mr. Dobson’s still on crutches, and Miss Monroe hasn’t been out of the hospital very long herself. I’ve been helping out wherever I could, but we’ve got the office work up pretty well. Then Mr. Dobson suggested to Carl that maybe he could use some help, and you would have thought the roof fell in. I don’t mean Carl was rude to Mr. Dobson. He simply made it as clear as he could that he didn’t need any help, and that just in case he did need any, I’d be about the last person he’d want for the job.”

      Nelson shook his head. “I’ll never figure that guy out. He sure has got it in for you and Ronald. But you did manage to get along with him for a while, didn’t you?”

      “Sure, we got along as long as we had to. But sooner or later something always turns up, and we’re back at swords’ points again. Of course it was a silly suggestion. Carl doesn’t need me, and Mr. Dobson was just trying to keep me busy. He must have thought Carl and I had smoothed things over while he was laid up. I rather get the impression Mr. Dobson feels Carl’s still on probation. But Carl’s been there nearly a year now, and Mr. Dobson’ll have to make up his mind about him soon.”

      “And when he does make up his mind,” said Nelson explosively, “he can give Carl a good boot out of there—with his good leg, I mean.”

      “And then what’ll he do? He needs somebody. And Carl isn’t the worst guy in the world, either. In fact, in some ways he’s good. Just once in a while it seems to me he’s not really enthusiastic about the newspaper business. I’m afraid he might pack up sometime and leave Mr. Dobson in the lurch.”

      “Well, that’s Mr. Dobson’s problem, not yours. Don’t be crazy about it, Ted. Mr. Dobson doesn’t expect you to give up college in case he finds himself short a reporter. You can just go off to college and forget the whole thing. You don’t ever have to go near that office again, if you don’t want to.”

      “Wrong there, Nel. I’m due at the office in”—he glanced at his waterproof wrist watch—“less than forty-five minutes. Mr. Dobson called me up this morning and asked me to drop in. He didn’t tell me why, though.”

      Nelson showed interest. “Got something cooking again? I figured it was about time. Give Mm a couple of weeks back at the office, time to get things organized again, and then he’s ready for another of his crusades. I hope it’s something exciting. This deadness is getting me down.” That was what Nelson said, but he looked as though having nothing to do but lie there the rest of the summer would be all right with him.

      Ted got to his feet and flexed his arms. “As long as we came out to swim, I suppose we ought to get a little more swimming in. Coming?”

      His friend did not reply at once. His eyes were fixed on the opposite end of the pool. Because of the early hour and the coolness of the day the pool was not crowded; even the lifeguard had not yet arrived. A group, chiefly girls, was gathered about the diving board. At its end a girl of about their own age stood gracefully poised—a summer visitor, they supposed, since they did not recognize her.

      She raised her arms, gave two or three tentative bounces upon the board—and at that moment something happened. Apparently her foot slipped just as she was about to leap, and she flew off the board in a sprawling, awkward manner. Falling forward, she hit the water on her stomach, sending up a shower of spray. For a moment there was no sign of struggle.

      “She’s hurt!” Nelson was on his feet in an instant. The group standing about the diving board seemed immobilized, and there was no one else close at hand to offer help. Nelson dived into the water immediately, and swam toward the girl with powerful strokes.

      Not quite so prompt to act, Ted sized up the situation in a moment, then ran around the edge of the pool until he was as close to the girl as he could get. Then he, too, dived off into the water. Although Nelson was the more skillful swimmer, Ted was able to reach the girl several precious seconds earlier. He grabbed her arm and helped her keep her head above water.

      “You all right?” he asked anxiously.

      “I—I guess so,” she replied falteringly. “The fall kind of stunned me for an instant. But I guess I’ll be all right in a minute.”

      “It’s not far to the ladder,” Ted encouraged her. “Think you can make it all right?”

      She had nearly recovered both her breath and her self-possession. “I think so, but stay close beside me, will you? I’m not exactly sure.”

      They turned back toward the edge of the pool. The girl swam with determination, managed to make the ladder without any further assistance, and climbed up easily. Ted followed her up, and after them came the hapless Nelson, arriving just too late to be of any service.

      An anxious group had gathered around the top of the ladder, and once assured that the girl was all right, began to joke about it.

      “Where there’s a damsel in distress, there’s Ted!”

      “I thought he was supposed to be working at the newspaper.”

      “Ken Kutler must have beaten him to a story, and they fired him.”

      “I’ll bet he greased

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