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to stay close to the others.
They heard the noise again. It was nearer now, and more menacing. For
a moment they did not move. But then Pete pointed.
There was a window high in the cellar wall a window that was boarded
over so that barely a crack of daylight came in. The sound of traffic came
faintly through this window, and then a metallic rattling and rumbling, and
then the terrible groan.
It s some kind of street noise, said Pete, relief flooding through him.
He went to the window and shoved at the boards that covered it. The
crack widened and he looked out onto a narrow, paved area that ran into
Speedway on the left.
A trash truck had stopped on Speedway near the inn. It was apparently
collecting trash from Mermaid Court. The driver of the truck wrestled a
trash bin onto a fork lift at the back of the truck and then pulled a lever.
With a terrible groan from the mechanism, the bin was hoisted into the air
and emptied into the truck.
Oh, said Jupe weakly. He was looking past Pete. So that s what we
heard. It s just a trash truck.
57
A Hasty Departure
Burton nodded. Old places like this distort sounds, he said.
Looking a bit sheepish, the Three Investigators made a quick search of
the cellar and then went up the stairs to the kitchen.
Satisfied that Todd Stratten was nowhere downstairs in the hotel, the
Three Investigators went up the big staircase to the second floor. There a
hallway ran the length of the building, and doors on either side sagged open
on tired hinges.
Again the boys saw dust and emptiness and cobwebs and signs of mice.
At last they came to a closed door.
The Princess Suite, said Burton, indicating a sign above the door. I ve
tried that door many times. I have the key, but it won t turn in the lock. I
think the lock has rusted shut. If I ever decide to renovate the hotel, I ll have
to have this door broken down. It s a shame, too, because it s a handsome
door.
It was indeed a handsome door, with carved sea creatures frolicking
around the edges of the wooden panels. In the center of the door was the
head of a chubby child, almost a twin of the little laughing mermaid that
had been displayed in Burton s gallery.
The mermaid I used to have in my shop was once in the lobby down-
stairs, said Burton. I wish I could remove this little carving as easily as I
took that one.
I m sure you do, said Jupiter. But do you mean to say that you
haven t been into this suite at all since you bought the inn?
I haven t, said Burton, and I m sorry. I understand this is a very
grand place. It was Francesca Fontaine s suite when she came to Venice.
Is this where the ghost walks? asked Pete.
Burton smiled condescendingly. You believe such fairy tales? he said.
I don t. People make up stories about old buildings when they stand empty,
and since Francesca Fontaine s death remains a mystery, it s natural that she
should be the subject of the stories. They even say that she s still here, shut
up in this room a skeleton now, laid out on the bed. I ve heard she became
a recluse and paid the hotel manager to keep her hidden, and she died here,
raving mad!
Clark Burton paused, and the boys shivered as if the corridor had become
icy cold. That s all nonsense! Burton declared. I looked through the
windows when the workmen were here putting the steel bars on. The Princess
Suite is like the rest of the inn. It s empty.
Burton and the boys went on to the third floor. There were no barred
windows here. Many of the room doors stood open along the central hall.
We re thirty feet above the courtyard here, said Burton. No one could
get in.
58
A Hasty Departure
Is there an attic above us? said Jupiter.
No. Just the roof, and that leaks.
They searched nevertheless. Again there was nothing but emptiness and
echoes. In one corner a shaft went down from the top of the hotel to the
pantries below.
A dumbwaiter shaft, said Burton. They used it to send trays of food
up from the kitchen.
The dumbwaiter was gone and the shaft was empty. Burton assured the
boys that the police had shined flashlights to the bottom of it.
The searchers went slowly down the stairs and out into the sunlight.
Regina Stratten was waiting in the court. She looked thinner, and her eyes
seemed too large for her face.
You ve been searching the inn, she said. You thought Todd might be
there, but he s not. But you have the right idea. He s nearby and he s hiding.
I think I know what happened to him. He was naughty, you see, and he ran
out onto Speedway, or maybe even onto Pacific. Tiny followed him and got
hit by a car, and Todd thought it was his fault. That s why he ran and hid.
Listen, he was always doing things he saw on television or learned from
books. You know what he saw last week? An old movie called The Little
Fugitive.
Oh? said Clark Burton suddenly.
It s about a little boy who thinks he s killed his brother. He runs away
to Coney Island and lives under the boardwalk.
Regina Stratten suddenly wilted. We don t have a boardwalk, she said
sadly, and the police have already searched under Venice Pier. But he could
have run someplace else to hide, couldn t he?
Of course, Regina, said Clark Burton. He ll come home when he gets
hungry enough.
Burton went back to the gallery, a look of purpose on his face.
But he must be hungry by now, said Regina in a small voice. He s
been gone two days.
She returned to the bookshop, walking slowly. Pete looked up toward the
Mermaid Gallery. Burton had not opened the gallery again. The sign on the
door still said CLOSED.
Burton s about to go someplace, Jupe predicted. That story of the
little boy and the boardwalk suggested something to him. Did you notice
the way he looked? Suddenly he had some bright idea.
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