Professional Documents
Culture Documents
The Clue
in Blue
By
BETSY ALLEN
NEW YORK
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Fashion Preview
Connie Takes a Job
The Face in the Mirrors
Enter Larry Stewart
In the Models Dressing Room
The Little Stock Girl
Stop, Thief !
Lost, Strayed or Stolen?
Clue Conscious
Why, Aunt Bet!
The Missing Hatbox
Connie Pays a Call
Part of the Story
Display Room Quest
Curiouser and Curiouser
The Man in the Womans Hat
An Endand a Beginning
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Fashion Preview
book.
A mystery, Ill bet.
Toby nodded. A neat one. All about atomic
engineers. He saw Kit coming back up the front
walk with a stack of dress boxes balanced under her
chin. Whats going on?
The Fortnightlys having a garden party and
fashion show, Connie told him. Tomorrow. Aunt
Bets doing the show, and the girls are trying on
dresses here this afternoon.
Toby stopped dead in his tracks and snorted.
And you got me down out of the tree for that?
Nevertheless he was persuaded to help his sisters,
and within ten minutes Connie and Kits room was
covered with a froth of white tissue paper, and both
the twin beds and the bureaus were decorated with
enough clothes and accessories to make any girls
eyes gleam with envy.
Toby, after sticking out a hand to greet his aunt
with manly casualness, escaped the melee and
returned to the platform in the walnut tree. From
there he caught occasional glimpses of some of the
twins friends arriving at the house, but he was out
of the hurly-burly of feminine fashion and back in
the safe haven of atomic intrigue, where he felt more
at home.
Within the twins bedroom, the collected models
were busy trying on Aunt Bets wonderful clothes.
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Aunt Bet leaned forward and took her eyes off the
road long enough to glance at Connie. I think shes
telling the truth.
By the time the car was parked in the Blair
driveway Connie also was convinced of Kits
sincerity, though she was still astonished that her
twinor any other girlwould refuse such a
chance.
A fortnight in Philadelphia, right in the midst of
the bustle and brilliance of a store like Campions!
Connies impetuous mind leapt ahead to a dozen
questions. How many models would there be? What
would they be required to do? Where would they
dress and how often would they change costume?
But first she had to settle the most important
question of all. Slamming the door of the car behind
her and racing across the lawn and into the cool
interior of the house, she accosted her mother in the
dining room and whirled her around.
Mommy, she cried, reverting to the old, pet
nickname that always popped out when she was
excited. Mommy, the most marvelous thing has
happened. Aunt Bet wants me to come to
Philadelphia and model for ten days at Campions.
Please, please say I can go!
For the next hour, at the house on High Street, not
another thing was discussed. Mrs. Blair was almost
as quick to give her consent as Connie had hoped
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became conscious, for the first time, of the stockroom door behind her, and the next instant she heard
an unmistakable creak.
Still crouching to inspect the hat, she let her gaze
travel slowly to the mirrored back of the showcase,
and for a split second another pair of eyesa mans
eyes, narrow and surprisedmet hers. They peered
out grotesquely from under a large, beribboned
womans hat, and the mouth below them was thin
and hard.
A ruthless, ugly mouth, Connie thought. Then she
awoke to the fact that this was no apparition but a
flesh-and-blood man staring at her from under that
fantastic hata man who was standing directly
behind her in the shadow of the stock-room door.
She wanted to whirl and face him, but her knees
were like jelly and for the first time in her life she
felt fear so intense that it was paralyzing. The store
was like a tomb, it was so quiet, and the eyes in the
mirror held hers even as the image wavered and the
man seemed to move.
Then Connie tried to scream.
She felt sure that if she could get out one good
healthy yell Aunt Bet or the watchman would hear
her. But just as she opened her mouth there was a
blow like a soft thud at the back of her head.
Then, for Connie, there was nothing left in the
vacuum of the vast second floor save hideous noise
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tooyou and I.
Connie edged away slightly. I dont
understand.
Why, were both novices around here, arent
we?
II guess so. Connie remembered that old
George had described Mr. Kurt as new. Still, she
couldnt see where this conversation was leading.
Im only here for ten days, she felt impelled to
add.
I know, Mr. Kurt seemed to know everything.
It is too short a time.
There was something in the way he looked at her
out of his narrow eyes that made the attempt at a
compliment fall flat. Connie was seized with an
impulse to get away. She started to walk faster, but
Mr. Kurt matched her stride. As a final recourse she
changed the subject abruptly.
You were talking about Grace Blair. She seems
a sad sort of girl.
Youre right. She isnt very attractive, said Mr.
Kurt.
Oh, I didnt mean that. Connie stopped and
faced the floorwalker. I mean sorrowful. Sort of
beaten down. She acts as though she were scared
half out of her wits.
What has she been telling you?
Telling me? Nothing. Nothing at all. Now
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Stop, Thief!
might!
Bet and I each have a few contacts with agencies
around town, Larry told her with a certain pride.
Well talk over this job idea of yours sometime, we
three.
Sometime wasnt soon enough for Connie, who
was frankly ecstatic at the mere idea. She rounded
the corner into the side street where her aunt lived,
with quick, skipping steps.
Now! she cried as she looked up and saw lights
in the apartment. Aunt Bets home. Come on up
and talk it over now!
Larry grinned at her impetuosity and flicked the
end of his cone into the gutter. Just a minute, lady!
he begged. You make my head swim.
But he followed Connie into the entry and up the
stairs to Aunt Bets second-floor apartment amiably
enough, and waited while Connie fitted her key into
the lock.
Aunt Bet! Larrys with me. May he come in?
Connie waited a second for her aunts answering
hail, then pushed the door open and looked down the
lighted hall.
Aunt Bet!
There was a creaking noise from the kitchenette
that Connie, after two days, could identify as the
stiff hinge on the door to the service entrance, then
silence. Thats funny, she said, then called again
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hasty exit.
Shouting Hey! at the top of his lungs Larry
hurtled the length of the brick-paved path and,
without breaking his stride, burst through the
unlatched gate.
The moon had passed under a cloud, and the
narrow street was as black as pitch. The facades of
small, mean houses faced a dozen gates like the one
to the apartment house. These were used in the
daytime by garbage and trash collectors, but tonight
not a soul disturbed the quiet, no sound of heels rang
on the cobbles, not a movement betrayed a fugitive.
Connies eyes flicked along the row of dingy
houses. Only one or two of them were occupied and
showed feeble lights. Then, standing in the middle
of the narrow roadway, she looked at the closed,
black gates. A shiver ran like lightning up her spine.
Behind any one of the dark gates the intruder they
sought might lurk. Belatedly cautious, she grabbed
Larrys coat sleeve.
Were too late, she said.
Larry was breathing hard, turning his head this
way and that, as though he couldnt believe that the
chase could end here. The moon swam out from
under the cloud and painted the cobbles with silver,
but the bulk of the houses was still in shadow.
Connie tugged harder at his arm. Were too late,
she said again.
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appeared back in the kitchen door with the halfeaten sandwich in one hand and a large pottery ash
tray held like a torch in the other.
A clue! she announced dramatically. An
honest-to-goodness clue.
Together Larry and Aunt Bet asked, What?
Connie came forward, lowering the ash tray to
convenient eye level. In it was a single, crushed,
cigarette butt.
Aunt Bet doesnt smoke. I dont smoke . . .
Make it three, said Larry, and so?
Theres no lipstick on the cigarette, Connie
announced triumphantly. The housebreaker must
have been a man.
Might have been a man, Aunt Bet corrected.
Not all women use lipstick.
Tut, tut, chided Larry, refusing to be earnest.
Ill bet all housebreakers do.
But Connie was staring down at the stub in
something close to amazement. The person who had
been here had left it, because the ash tray had been
clean at suppertime. It seemed as though this were a
proof of his presence more tangible than all the
ransacked shelves put together. The intruder, with
his own hand, had crushed this out.
She was so absorbed in thought that she didnt
notice when Larry moved close to look down at the
ash tray too.
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a few minutes.
What a memory! Larry crossed the floor to a
contraption that looked like a cross between a movie
projector and a large, square camera laid on its side.
Here she is.
Connie was disappointed. That? Whats that?
The Lucy, Larry repeated. It blows things up.
Connie stepped back a pace and Larry laughed.
Not like dynamite, he told her. Like this.
He picked up a small photograph of a model in a
lounging costume and slid it into an opening at the
base of the machine. Then he leaned over, clicked a
switch, and turned a wheel to focus. Finally he
straightened and beckoned to Connie. See?
The photograph, against a canvas curtain, was
magnified to many times its original size.
Interesting, Connie said. But she led the
conversation away from the Lucy after a few
minutes. What she had really come to talk about was
the pearls.
Larry was willing enough to discuss their
disappearance, but he had no new light to throw on
the subject. I went up for them this morning and
they were gone, thats all, he said. The box was
there, but the pearls werent.
The box was there? repeated Connie. She felt
that this should mean something to her, but it didnt.
The box is like half a hundred other boxes for
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Clue Conscious
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niece.
The missing pearls, Miss Easton said
tonelessly, have been discovered.
This, to Connie, seemed no cause for alarm. Oh,
good! she exclaimed. Where?
Ruefully her aunt smiled. Wrapped in a square
of cleansing tissue, she said, in my handbag.
Oh, no! Connie cried. Why, thats impossible.
How could they have gotten there? Then she
seemed to realize the implications of the statement
and whirled on Mr. Campion. You surely dont
think?
We dont think anything, Miss Blair, Mr.
Campion broke in a little wearily. His face seemed
less florid than usual, almost pasty, but Connie
noticed that his gray eyes held no hint of accusation.
He simply looked tired. Were just trying to get to
the root of a situation that none of us likes.
Of course, Connie said, feeling quite chastened.
But make no mistake! Steel suddenly glinted in
the gray eyes. There is no one in the store who is
not under suspicion until proven innocent. Mr.
Campion looked from Connie to her aunt and back
to Connie again. That, he said slowly, goes for
everyone.
Now Connie knew why her Aunt Bet did not
seem to be at all herself. This man of variable moods
was inclined to be kindly, but underneath he had a
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Why?
Connie shrugged lightly, and tried to make her
smile natural and friendly, although she felt
decidedly ill at ease. We were just passing the time,
waiting for you.
Ellie raised confused eyes to her sisters. I think
it might be fun to work at Campions, someday, she
said thoughtfully. Miss Blair makes it sound like a
lovely store.
Graces shoulders sagged in obvious relief, and at
the same time she seemed surprised at her sisters
interest.
Its better than most, she agreed.
Connie glanced at her wrist watch. Goodness,
Ive got to run! Walk to the trolley with me, Grace,
will you? I can tell you what I came to see you about
on the way.
Grace recognized this for a ruse, but she
reluctantly agreed. Connie said good-bye to Ellie,
and was rewarded with a request. Come see me
again, wont you? the girl on the couch urged.
Id love to, Connie told her, and I will!
But she wondered, as she followed Grace down
the narrow hallway into the twilight, whether she
would ever be permitted to see the inside of that
house again.
The stock girl stopped at the foot of the marble
steps and whirled to face Connie. All right, what is
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a little while.
Her aunt agreed readily enough. Ill stop at the
market, she said, naming one near the apartment.
Look for me there if you should catch up.
Connie promised that she would, and kept on
dressing at a snails pace until the models room
emptied. Then she glanced at her wrist watch,
slipped out the door, and, avoiding the elevators,
started down the enclosed stairs at the rear of the
store.
From the second to the first floor she met no one,
but on the flight leading to the basement, just as she
turned the corner from the landing, she suddenly
came upon Mr. Kurt.
The floorwalker was on his way up, and Connie
encountered him so suddenly that she was startled.
Oh! she cried, momentarily caught off guard.
Then she offered the first excuse for being on the
stairs that came to her head. I was just trying to
catch one of the stock girls before she left the locker
room, she told him, edging past him as though she
were indeed in a hurry. She forced her voice to
sound casual and bright, and managed to smile at the
floorwalker, although she actually had little love for
the bald-headed man.
The locker rooms were in the basement. It was a
safe enough fib. Yet Connie bit her lip as she
hastened on. Everybody seemed so suspicious and
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An Endand a Beginning
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