(#16) The Clue of the Tapping Heels by Carolyn Keene Page B

were selling.
    Nancy studied the man who was in charge. He was short and rather stocky. Was he the one who had worn the spiked golf shoes?
    George spoke to the man. “You have some beautiful cats here. I saw them a few minutes ago and went to get my friend. She’s crazy about Persians.”
    “Yes, I am,” said Nancy. She asked the price.
    When he named it, she said, “Why, that’s cheap for such fine animals. They’re pedigreed, of course?”
    “Oh sure,” the man replied.
    “Do you have the pedigree papers with you?” Nancy asked.
    The man hesitated for a few seconds, then said, “They’re here some place. You buy one of the cats and leave your name and address. I’ll send you the pedigree later.”
    Nancy smiled at him. “But I want to see the pedigree before I buy.”
    The man’s attitude changed. “If you don’t want to buy on my say-so, don‘t,” he said. “Next customer?” He turned away from the girls, ignoring them completely.
    They walked off. “Nancy, what do you think?” George asked.
    “I strongly suspect he’s a phony. It wouldn’t hurt to call the police. If the man has nothing to hide, he won’t be in trouble. But if he’s the thief—”
    Nancy stopped at a nearby phone booth and put in the call. The sergeant on duty said two men would be sent to the cat show at once. He instructed Nancy to wait for them at the Carter booth so she could go with the officers to point out the suspect.
    “I wonder if Bess sold any cats,” said George as the girls went on. As they neared booth ten, they saw only four cats.
    Bess greeted them with a giggle. “Want to know who the real salesman is around here?” she asked, thumping her chest.
    “Congratulations,” said Nancy. Then she told Bess about the man in booth thirty and said the police would be arriving in a few minutes to talk to him.
    Bess gave Nancy a long look and shook her head. “Everywhere you go there’s excitement.”
    Nancy laughed. “This may not end up being exciting at all. Here come two men now. I wonder if they’re plainclothesmen from the police department, or potential customers.”
    The men stopped at the booth.
    “Miss Drew?” one of them asked.
    When Nancy acknowledged her identity, the two men opened their coats and showed police detective badges. They requested her to point out the suspect to them. Bess asked to go along.
    “George, see if you can sell a cat while I’m gone,” she teased.
    Nancy led the way toward booth thirty. As they approached it, she gasped. The man and all the cats were gone!
    “He isn’t here!” she exclaimed, embarrassed.
    The group stood in front of the empty booth, mystified. Nancy was sure that the detectives felt that a hoax had been pulled on them.
    “Are you sure this is the right place?” one of them asked Nancy.
    “Oh, yes.”
    “Now listen, young lady!” the other officer said. “Don’t you know it’s a serious offense to bring out the police on a wild-goose chase like this?”
    Bess was aghast. She said quickly, “Nancy has done nothing wrong. She’s an amateur detective and we’ve been trying to trace cats that were stolen from a woman we know. Her name’s Carter.”
    The taller of the two men looked at Nancy. “Amateur detective, eh?” He scoffed. “Well, if there’s one thing in this world I have no use for it’s an amateur detective.”
    Nancy was stung by the remark. Somehow she must prove to these men that she was not faking. She saw a woman in booth thirty-one who was busy grooming some Maltese cats. She dashed over and touched her arm.
    “Pardon me, but could you tell us where the man went who had the cats in booth thirty?”
    “I can’t tell you where he went,” the woman answered, “but I can tell you this: after you and the other young lady left here, he began to act strange. He mumbled to himself and then called out to passers-by:
    “ ‘Want to buy a cat cheap?’ The price was so ridiculous, he sold them all in a couple of minutes. Then he