Mabel Maney - A Ghost In The Closet

Nancy gave Cherry’s hand a warm squeeze. “I was so hoping you’d say that,” she sighed happily.

Golly, was Nancy asking her to stay in Illinois? To spend her life bringing comfort to sick Midwesterners? Cherry quickly fumbled about for a topic that would steer the conversation away from a future of which she was still so unsure.

“Although you explained it earlier, I still don’t understand how that man managed to vanish in a puff of smoke,” she began. “It simply isn’t possible. Why, it defies all known laws of gravity and science!”

All he had left behind was the large black trunk now safely stowed in the trunk of Nancy’s convertible, and a small pile of pink powder which Nancy had scooped up in her handkerchief and stowed in her purse for later analysis.

“While his disappearing act was certainly a clever trick, it’s one any professional magician could replicate,” Nancy reasoned, switching in a flash from a starry-eyed romantic to the level-headed detective known and loved by all. She added, “Why, when I was working on The Case of the Ill-Timed Illusion , I went to Professor Casmire Cardini, the world-famous magician, for help. He taught me one important lesson: things are seldom what they seem.”

“But he disappeared in a cloud of smoke,” Cherry insisted. “He opened his umbrella, smoke appeared and he was gone. I saw it with my own eyes!”

At this, Nancy chuckled. “That’s what makes it seem like magic,” she said. “He most likely used the smoking powder as a diversion so he could slip away, change his outfit and walk out of the arena disguised as your average dog lover. It’s an old illusionist’s trick. In fact, I’ve seen stage shows where master magicians have made elephants, lions and even whole houses seemingly disappear!

“Why, Professor Cardini once demonstrated an illusion in which a woman was transformed into a man!”

“Goodness,” Cherry cried. As a trained nurse, that was something she’d certainly like to see!

“Many is the time I’ve found a mystery to be nothing but an illusion hiding the truth. This is frequently true of cases involving ghostly hauntings,” Nancy told Cherry in a modest tone.

Cherry shivered. She was by nature logical and clear-thinking, but still, the thought of ghosts sent a little shiver down her spine. She pulled her thin summer cardigan around her shoulders. Nancy, seeing her distress, put her arms around her chum and held her close. She began stroking Cherry’s neck with a slow, gentle motion that made Cherry quiver in the queerest way.

Just then Midge swerved into the circular drive in front of the stately Clue residence. Cherry flew right out of Nancy’s arms.

“Sorry,” Midge grinned. “I almost missed the driveway. Oh, look, Jackie’s home,” she cried enthusiastically upon spying a light from Jackie’s second-floor bedroom in the charming three-story brick house. “Hey, Jack, we’re back,” she hollered.

“Honey, you’ll wake the neighbors,” Velma cautioned.

Midge nipped her girlfriend gently on the ear. “ I’ll wake the neighbors? Who’s the noisy one in this family?” she teased. Even in the moonlight, Cherry could see Velma turn bright red. The flushed girl hopped out of the car and headed inside the house, Midge hot on her heels.

“I simply must get out of this dusty dress,” Nancy murmured in Cherry’s ear. “Shall we go to my room and find something cool to slip into? I’ve got two pairs of shantung silk lounging pajamas—one creamy white, and the other, the palest of pink. They would be divine on a warm night like tonight.”

Cherry had to admit she was feeling decidedly wrinkled. “I’ll take the ice cream to the freezer first,” she volunteered. Housekeeper Hannah Gruel, who was tucked in bed recovering from the heart attack she had suffered while in prison falsely accused of the murder of Nancy’s father, would turn seventy-two in just two days, and the girls were planning a quiet celebration to honor the woman who had been like a mother to Nancy since the death of her real mother twenty-two years ago.

“Swell,” Nancy breathed excitedly. “I’ll meet you in my room.”

While Nancy raced upstairs, Cherry deposited the fresh-churned frozen concoction in the deep freeze of the cheerful modernized yellow and white kitchen. “This is the very room in which Carson Clue was shot,” she shivered, staring at the linoleum in front of the Frigidaire where the well-known attorney had lain. She had to admit she was still a little shaken up by all the talk of ghosts. Just then Cherry felt something brush her calf. “Eek!” she cried, spinning around to find, much to her relief, that it was only Nancy’s little terrier, Gogo, playfully nipping at her ankles.

“Phew,” Cherry breathed with relief. She reached for the box of crunchy dog biscuits at the back of the counter and accidentally knocked a tea cake off the platter piled high with treats that Velma had baked especially for Hannah’s birthday party. Gogo immediately pounced on the sweet, and quick as a bunny, pushed open the screen door and fled. Cherry raced after her.

“I hope she doesn’t make herself sick,” Cherry thought worriedly as she searched the fragrant garden for the small dog. She had stomach-ache potion in her first-aid kit, but she had no clue how much to give a terrier. It didn’t matter—Gogo was long gone.

Cherry sighed. From where she stood, she could see Nancy’s bedroom window, her light ablaze. “I’d better get upstairs before Nancy starts to fret about me,” Cherry thought. But she couldn’t bring herself to go inside just yet. Somehow, she just didn’t feel ready to face Nancy—or those shantung silk lounging pajamas!

“I’ll sit for a moment first and enjoy these lovely flowers,” she told herself, plopping down on the wrought-iron bench overlooking Hannah’s award-winning begonias.

“Just last week, I sat on this bench with Jackie,” Cherry remembered. “She held my hand and looked into my eyes and—” She blushed when she recalled the day Jackie had asked her to return with her to San Francisco. Detective Jackie Jones had already spent a week in River Depths, and her vacation time was running out fast. Cherry knew she was waiting around for an answer—but what answer would she give her? Would Cherry travel west with the dashing police detective or would she choose to stay in this Midwestern fairyland in an attempt to recapture her lost love?

“Oh, Cherry Aimless, Registered Nurse, you’re such a silly goose,” Cherry cried aloud, as she was wont to do when faced with a particularly puzzling predicament. As a nurse, Cherry had made many a tough decision and always reacted with lightning-quick action and a cool head, earning her the respect of nurses everywhere. But in matters of the heart, never before had she been so unsure of her feelings.

“Well, just that once, when I had a mad crush on Miss Peebles, the School Nurse, and mother explained to me that when a girl likes an older girl, it’s not a crush in the romantic sense, but rather it’s that she admires the way the older girl carries herself: her poise, charm and attractive, modern way of dress,” she mused.

Cherry chastised herself loudly. “You’re acting like a lovesick schoolgirl!” She shook her head and resolutely jumped up off the bench. “A cool bath and a fresh outfit might be just what I need,” she reasoned. She headed for the house, but as she mounted the back stairs she got a sudden surprise. Jackie was lounging on the wide porch swing, gazing at the sparkling night sky.