CHAPTER XXIII

A Curious Letter

Shortly after Peter was discharged from the hospital, a letter came, addressed to Irene and postmarked Roulsville. It bore no return address.

“That’s funny. It was forwarded to me from the studio,” Irene said, turning it over in her hand. “My show is on a local channel. I don’t have any fans in Roulsville.”

“You know some people there, don’t you?” Judy asked.

Irene shook her head. “Only you and your family. But they live in Farringdon.”

“Horace could have been driving through Roulsville,” Judy said, “but it isn’t his handwriting. Anyway, he usually types—”

Peter interrupted, his blue eyes twinkling.

“The best way to find out who the letter is from is to open it,” he suggested.

Dale laughed. “Why make such a mystery out of an ordinary letter?”

“Did you say an ordinary letter? This isn’t—it can’t be, but it is!” Irene exclaimed as she tore open the envelope.

“You aren’t making any sense,” Judy began.

“Does this make sense?” Irene waved four crisp five-dollar bills before her face. “Clarissa sent them! She returned our money. Oh, Judy! I can’t believe it!”

“I can’t either,” Judy agreed. “How does Clarissa happen to be in Roulsville?”

“Wait till I read the letter,” Irene said. “It’s directed to all four of us.”

Judy’s bewilderment grew as Irene read:

“Dear Irene, Judy, Flo, and Pauline:

Enclosed are four five-dollar bills. Thank you for helping me, a perfect stranger. Do good and gain good, my father always says. Trust people and you will be trusted. Please tell the police and the FBI that I am safe at home and they can stop looking for me. I saw it all in the papers. Dad thinks I ought to give up the idea of a career on TV until I’ve finished high school here in Roulsville. I am sorry I had to leave the theater in such a hurry, but Francine Dow’s aunt mistook me for her. I convinced her of her mistake and went home only to find that my parents were moving. I told you Dad used to be a minister, didn’t I? He doesn’t have a pastorate at present, but hopes to become active in church work. What church do you attend, Judy? I remember hearing you say you lived somewhere in the vicinity of Roulsville. We’ve bought a beautiful home here....”

“I’ll bet they have,” Peter commented, reading over Irene’s shoulder. “Clarence Lawson has enough cash to buy a real beaut—”

“Clarence Lawson!” exclaimed Judy. “What are you saying, Peter? Clarissa’s with her father.”

“So the letter says. But did Clarissa write it?”

“It does sound a little stilted,” Judy admitted. “And I’m not familiar with her handwriting.”

“Well, I am familiar with some of those sayings she attributes to her father. _Do good and gain good_, for instance. Lawson’s overworked that one. Those were the very words he used when he approached Francine Dow’s husband for a donation. Dow and Francine had quarreled over her comeback on TV, and she’d left him to live with an aunt who had just come east from California.”

“Did you interview the aunt?” asked Dale. “Or aren’t you at liberty to say?”

“I didn’t. I checked with our field office there. The real aunt is still in California. Lawson had found out about her, some way. The ‘aunt’ who called at the stage door and left with Clarissa really did mistake her for Francine Dow. That’s one fact that is straight in the letter.”

“But the others? She says she’s living with her parents in Roulsville. Aren’t these people really her parents? It is odd she didn’t mention her brothers and sisters. Didn’t she say she was one of six children?” Judy asked.

“I didn’t hear her say that. I didn’t hear her say a lot of the queer things you girls said she said when you were on that tour of Radio City,” Irene replied. “I didn’t hear her call herself a changeling, for instance, or say she looked in the mirror and saw no reflection. Maybe she is trying to trick us after all.”

“It isn’t Clarissa. It’s Lawson who’s trying to trick us,” declared Peter, “but this time he won’t get away with it. He’s picked you for a sucker because you lent money to a stranger. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he finds out who you really are, Angel.”

“You mean when he finds out I’m married to an FBI man,” Judy laughed. “Peter, when can we leave for home?”

They had planned to return to Pennsylvania in a day or two, anyway. The letter made their return more urgent.

“Let’s leave tomorrow morning,” Peter suggested. “Maybe you’d better call your mother and ask her to open up the house. Otherwise it will be pretty cold. And I’m afraid you’ll have to do most of the driving.”

The Beetle had come through the gun battle with one small dent in its fender. That was repaired, and the car now looked like new. A few telephone calls were made and then the packing began. The following morning, Judy and Peter were on their way home.

“I don’t like New York much,” Judy admitted when they were out of the city, “especially Madison Avenue and what Flo calls the rat race to get a monopoly on all the big accounts. I don’t want anything big. I guess I’m just a country girl at heart.”

“My love for you is as big as all outdoors,” declared Peter. “Don’t you want that?”

The car went into a wild skid. Judy righted it and said, “There! Of course I want your love, but from now on I’m paying strict attention to my driving. All outdoors is pretty big this morning. We have three hundred miles of icy roads ahead of us with who knows what at the other end. Peter, take care this time, won’t you? Please don’t be alone when you meet Clarence Lawson.”

He promised that he wouldn’t be alone. He had seen to that. He also told Judy he would soon be leaving for Washington. “I need that refresher course. A fellow has to keep in training to be able to defend himself against such men,” he said grimly. “I know how Lawson works, but I want to be prepared for his little surprises.”

“How does he work?” asked Judy.

“He makes people like him for one thing. He looks and acts like a perfect gentleman. He and his wife are just the type of people you expect to see in church on a Sunday morning. With a lovely young ‘daughter’ like Clarissa to cover up for him, nobody will believe he isn’t the real Pastor Valentine. He may get himself elected treasurer of the church as he did some years ago when he was known as David Barnes. I see what his plans are all right, but this time,” Peter said with a determined look on his face, “we’re going to nip them right in the bud. It’s too bad Clarissa didn’t put her street address on that letter.”

“Roulsville isn’t so big. Can’t you check with the real estate office and find out who’s bought property?”

“That’s the usual procedure,” agreed Peter. “I’ll check with the churches, too. We’ll find him if I have to canvass every house. It looks as if this case is going to wind up fast. Roulsville, of all places! Lady Luck has certainly smiled on us for once.”

“Was it Lady Luck or good clear thinking on Clarissa’s part?” asked Judy. “She didn’t say what she meant in that letter, but I could read between the lines. I know your work is secret and I shouldn’t talk about it, but if Clarissa did happen to overhear our conversation in the restaurant she may know you’re with the FBI. That letter could be her way of asking for help without arousing the suspicions of her so-called parents.”

“You’re right, Angel. Clarissa isn’t the only one who’s been doing some good clear thinking,” declared Peter. “Your nightmares haven’t affected your thought processes in the daytime.”

“I don’t have them any more. I wonder....”

Judy’s wonderings went on for mile after mile of uninterrupted driving. Were things falling into place too neatly? Certainly someone had planned this. Could it be Clarence Lawson himself? Had he dictated that letter and forced Clarissa to write it?

As they neared home Peter expressed what Judy had been thinking. “I wonder what Lawson is up to this time,” he said. “Does he really think Clarissa will keep on pretending to be his daughter? He may have threatened her into leading us right into his trap.”