Nancy hurried up the curved staircase with the bank president and his secretary. “Don’t say a word about this until we get to my office,” Mr. Charles instructed them. “Sound really carries in this place, and it’s absolutely necessary that no one besides us knows about this.”
As the stairway opened out into the lobby, Nancy took a quick look around. Everything seemed to be calm. Nothing was out of place, either, as they went up the next flight of steps, nor as they sped down the long hallway and into Ms. Kussack’s office.
The secretary’s office looked neat enough, but Nancy was sure the real damage lay behind the closed door of Mr. Charles’s office. Nancy turned and shut the outer door firmly behind them.
As the door clicked shut, Elaine Kussack burst out, “It’s awful, just awful!” Nancy noticed that her hands were shaking. “I was gone less than ten minutes. I just went to the coffee shop for our usual morning doughnuts. Before I left, I locked your door and my door, the way I always do. When I got back, both doors were wide open—and I saw this!” She flung open the heavy mahogany door to Mr. Charles’s office.
Mr. Charles gasped and Nancy’s eyes widened at what they saw. The whole room was a mess. Papers were scattered all over the floor. A few of Mr. Charles’s family pictures had been tossed from the wall and lay on the ground, surrounded by broken glass from the frames. The drawers of the desk had been wrenched from their places, but the papers in them hadn’t been dumped out. They remained neatly filed, as Mr. Charles had left them.
Worst of all, in the center of the wall behind the desk, a safe stood exposed to view, its supposedly impenetrable door wide open. Nancy hadn’t noticed the safe when she’d been in Mr. Charles’s office earlier, so she assumed it had been hidden behind one of the pictures that were now scattered on the floor.
“Oh no!” Mr. Charles cried, running to the safe. He stuck his head inside, peering carefully at its contents, taking account of what might be stolen.
Nancy hurried around his desk to get a better look. “What’s missing?” she asked.
Mr. Charles pulled his head out of the safe, a perplexed expression on his face. “Nothing!” he exclaimed.
“How strange,” Nancy commented. “Why go to all the trouble of breaking in here when you don’t intend to take anything?”
“That’s not the only strange thing,” Mr. Charles said. “The duplicate keys to the safe-deposit boxes—the ones I said were missing? Well, they’re back! Obviously the thief—” Abruptly, Mr. Charles interrupted himself. Turning to his secretary, he asked, “Elaine, would you do me a big favor?”
“Of course, Mr. Charles.”
“My nerves are pretty frayed right now. Would you run to the drugstore and get me some extra-strength aspirin?” He took out his wallet and handed her a five-dollar bill.
“I’d be happy to,” Ms. Kussack said, and headed for the door.
“Oh, and Elaine, do me an even bigger favor. Don’t mention this to anyone.”
The secretary nodded at him understandingly. “I’ll be right back.”
“That was wise,” Nancy told Mr. Charles. “The less anyone else knows about this, the better—even someone whom you trust, like Ms. Kussack.”
“It’s awful having to be suspicious of everyone, but I guess that’s what we’ve got to do.” Mr. Charles sighed.
Nancy nodded. “You know,” she said slowly, “none of this makes any sense. The thief must have stolen the duplicate keys much earlier in order to get into the vault the other night. So why go to all the trouble of breaking in a second time to put them back? What’s more,” she continued, “the thief ran a big risk coming in here in the middle of the day... But what was it Ms. Kussack said about your usual morning doughnuts?”
Charles smiled ruefully. “It’s a little ritual we have. Every morning around this time, Elaine goes down and gets us each a glazed jelly doughnut.”
“That could explain why the thief took the risk,” Nancy cut in. “If someone knew your secretary’s schedule and then saw you go downstairs, it would have been clear that your office was empty—a perfect time to break in. Which reinforces your theory that it’s an inside job.”
“At least the keys are back where they belong,” said Mr. Charles. The worry lines eased from his face just a little.
“But that doesn’t mean your troubles are over,” Nancy cautioned. “The thief could have made copies. Anyway, we still have a few questions to answer. Like, why break in twice? And how did the thief get through the two locks—on your door and Ms. Kussack’s?”
She glanced at the entry to his office, then walked over to examine the doorknob. The lock’s shiny metal was unscratched—no signs of tampering. A quick perusal of Ms. Kussack’s door showed a similar lack of marks.
“The thief must have had a key, to get in and out so fast,” Nancy said as she reentered the bank president’s office.
“But that’s impossible,” Mr. Charles said. “Elaine and I are the only ones with keys. And I’ll show you something else that’s impossible.” Mr. Charles pointed to the door of the wall safe. “This lock wasn’t forced open, it was picked!”
“I don’t want to sound unsympathetic,” Nancy told him, “but a combination lock is all too easy to pick. It happens all the time. And if the culprit could break into the vault, wouldn’t a small safe like this be relatively simple?”
“No,” said Mr. Charles. “It would be a lot harder. You see, there are four people, including me, who could get into the vault. But I’m the only person who knows the combination to this safe. And the combination is so long and complicated, it would take even a master safecracker several hours to figure it out.”
Nancy tapped her fingers on the dark mahogany of Mr. Charles’s desk, thinking hard. There were just too many “impossibles” in this case. “So all we can really assume,” she concluded, “is that this is an inside job, given how quickly the robbery was done, and that the thief knew when you and Ms. Kussack would be out. But it seems our intruder also has magical abilities to open doors without keys and locks without combinations.”
“And we still don’t know what this person is after,” Mr. Charles added.
“Is anything else missing from your office?” Nancy asked.
Mr. Charles checked through the open drawers. Then he gathered the papers from the floor and quickly shuffled through them. “I think everything’s here,” he said finally, “though I’ll have to sort through all this stuff before I’m certain. It seems like whoever was here just wanted to make a mess.” Mr. Charles dropped tiredly to the brown upholstered armchair behind his desk. “At least, I hope that was all they wanted.”
“It can’t be all,” Nancy said. “No one goes to so much trouble for essentially nothing.”
Mr. Charles shook his head. “I know. But since technically there still hasn’t been a robbery, I’m not going to alert the police. Some nosy reporter over at the Bentley Times would get wind of this so fast, they’d have a banner headline about it in tonight’s paper. Then my customers would bring wheelbarrows to cart their money out of here.”
Nancy was barely listening as her keen blue eyes glanced around the room. “There has to be a clue,” she said. “Too much has happened already for there not to be something.”
“I’m giving you free run of the office,” Mr. Charles told her. “At a time like this, I can’t afford to keep anything from you. If you need me, I’ll be at Elaine’s desk.” Mr. Charles rose from his chair, and Nancy noticed his shoulders drooping as he disappeared into the adjoining office.
Alone, Nancy walked over to the open wall safe. She was glad Mr. Charles trusted her with the important papers and keys involved in running the bank. If he held back with her, the case really would be impossible to solve. She peered curiously into the safe. In it, a large key ring rested on top of a neat pile of papers. The papers hadn’t been touched—Nancy could tell because the edges of the pages lined up exactly. A thief in a hurry would never have taken the time to reassemble them like that. Picking up the ring, she saw that every key had a small number etched into it. She guessed that each one corresponded to a different safe-deposit box in the vault.
Well, the safe didn’t appear to hold any secrets—at least not the kind that would help her solve the mystery. Maybe she’d have better luck with the drawers. But as she started going through the files, Nancy realized that they were also a dead end. They hadn’t been disturbed.
But there had to be a clue somewhere. Nancy knew that criminals made mistakes. Sighing, she got down on her hands and knees. Maybe there was something on the floor, some paper or scrap that would provide a key to this strange mystery.
She couldn’t see too clearly in the shadows, but a small, dark object lay crumpled on the white marble floor. Reaching for it, Nancy felt something soft and smooth, like leather. Inching the object toward her, she pulled out a brown glove.
She sat up, leaning back on her heels. It was a woman’s right-hand glove, unusually small, and it had the letter S embroidered across the back of it in brown thread. Had the intruder worn this to avoid leaving fingerprints?
Nancy’s mind clicked away as it processed the information this first clue gave her. If this was the thief's glove, then that person was a right-handed woman with a small hand and at least one initial S. The initial knocked out all her suspects—except one. Evelyn Sobel, the only person besides Larry Jaye who knew the combination to the vault.
But maybe someone else had left the glove, someone uninvolved in the robbery, someone Mr. Charles had legitimate business with. Nancy scrambled to her feet and ran to the outer office.
“Have you found something?” Mr. Charles asked excitedly.
“Maybe you can tell me,” Nancy responded. “Have you ever seen this before?” She held out the glove.
Mr. Charles took the soft leather, examining it carefully, then shook his head.
“Has anybody been in your office recently? Anyone with the initial S?”
Mr. Charles thought a moment. “I don’t usually have anyone up here except Elaine. When I meet with my managers, it’s usually in the conference room down the hall. So I guess the answer is no.”
“Then this is our first clue,” Nancy replied, retrieving the glove from Mr. Charles. A small smile spread across her face. She was sure this one would lead to a second, a third, and finally to a solution. “By the way, I ought to get out of here before Ms. Kussack gets back with your aspirin. She’s probably already wondering what an intern like me is doing spending so much time with the boss. I don’t want to blow my cover.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” said Mr. Charles. “Elaine is very discreet. That’s one of the reasons I hired her when dad’s old secretary, Rita, retired six months ago.”
Nancy smiled. “It’s good at least something at the bank is going right.” She tapped the glove. “And now something is going right with this case.” She stashed her first clue in her purse, then turned to leave. “I guess I’ll go check on Bess and George. Maybe they’ve learned something more.”
Mr. Charles nodded. “If you need any help or information, you know where I am.”
***
Half an hour later Nancy, Bess, and George sat lunching at Kathy’s, a sidewalk Cafe in the middle of Bentley’s quaint downtown area. A cheery green-and-white-striped awning shielded them from the midday sun, and the view of the marina with the lake beyond it couldn’t be beat. Nancy settled comfortably into the green-and-white-striped cushion of her chair. All in all, it had been an interesting morning.
“Maurice told us this is where all the bank employees hang out,” Bess said, biting into her pizza burger and reaching for a french fry at the same time. “So maybe we’ll pick up a clue or two while we eat. That’s my kind of detective work!” She let out a giggle.
George made a face as she watched her cousin. “How can you eat that stuff?” she asked. “Do you realize how much fat and cholesterol is in there?”
Bess shrugged. “I worked hard this morning,” she said. “Counting money burns a lot of calories.”
“What else did Maurice tell you?” Nancy asked her friends.
George took a bite of her spinach salad. “Well, the very first thing we learned is the Bentley Bank motto.” Bess chimed in as George recited, “At Bentley Bank, our goal is to serve you.
“Other than that, it was just a lot of stuff about bank procedure,” George added. “You know, how to take a deposit, how to issue a withdrawal. And lots of rules and regulations.”
Bess put down her pizza burger long enough to pull a truck packet of papers out of her bag. Dropping it on the table, she said, “This is the tellers’ training manual. Can you believe we have to read all this? You definitely got the better job.”
Nancy smiled, but she was too intent on questioning her friends to respond to Bess’s joke. “Were you able to find out anything more about what happened this morning with that girl Jill?” she asked. “It’s just possible that the fight ties in with the break-ins.”
“I asked Maurice about that,” George agreed with a nod, “but he wouldn’t say a word. He seemed really nervous, though, all morning. And he left us a couple of times—to make phone calls, he said.” Nancy picked absentmindedly at her tuna-fish sandwich as she listened to her friend.
“What’s it all about?” George wondered. “Have you learned anything?”
Nancy reviewed the details she’d gathered so far: the break-in in the vault and the one in Mr. Charles’s office, the “dual control” system to enter the vault, and the small leather right-handed glove.
“I think we can safely say it’s an inside job,” Nancy concluded. “But other than that, there’s still not much to go on.”
“What I want to know,” said Bess, “is why someone would go to all the trouble of breaking into the basement vault and then not steal anything. Especially with all that jewelry!”
“There’s just one way to explain it,” Nancy said, and her eyes seemed fired with determination as she spoke. “They’re looking for something more valuable to them than jewelry. Since they haven’t found it yet, we know one thing for sure. They’ll be back!”
Dead End
The idea had come to Nancy in a flash. Something more valuable than jewelry! That had to be the answer.
Bess dropped her pizza burger back on her plate in surprise. “What could possibly be more valuable than diamonds and rubies?” she wondered. Then, quick to recover her appetite, she reached for the fries. “Well, at least you know the thief isn’t a woman.”
Nancy turned to face Bess, puzzled. “Why do you say that?”
“Do you honestly think a woman would pass up all those jewels?”
Nancy frowned. Bess thought all women were into the same things she was. “Actually, I think the intruder probably is a woman,” Nancy told her friends. “Or at least one of them is.”
“Why do you say that?” George asked.
Nancy pulled the glove from her pocket and held it out in the palm of her hand. “It’s so small,” she said. “I seriously doubt a man’s hand would fit into it.”
Bess reached out to take it, and in a single movement tried unsuccessfully to pull the glove over the short, plump fingers of her right hand. “Even my hand won’t fit in it,” she commented. “And I’m really small-boned.”
“I can’t say who is the owner of that glove,” Nancy commented, “though Evelyn Sobel came instantly to mind when I saw that S. But there might be other possibilities.” Nancy pushed back her chair and stood up, glancing at her barely touched sandwich. She didn’t have time to finish it now—the mystery was just beginning to heat up. “If you two are done with lunch, let’s get back to the bank,” she said. “We have some clues to follow.”
A few minutes later Nancy was back in Mr. Charles’s office, staring over his shoulder and into the glow of his computer monitor. Luckily, Ms. Kussack was out on her lunch break, which gave Nancy the perfect chance to check files without putting her cover identity in danger.
“This will just take a second,” Mr. Charles said. He tapped on a floor switch with the toe of his shoe. A second later the computer beeped and a menu appeared on the screen. Mr. Charles hit a few keys with his index finger and a list of names appeared.
Nancy scanned the list, her eyes peeled for the letter S. There were several Susans, a Sarah, and one Sylvester. She wrote each one down in her notebook. Then her gaze traveled down the last names. She jotted down each one that began with an S. She triple underlined one in particular. Evelyn Sobel, the assistant branch manager.
“I’d like to take down a few addresses,” Nancy told Mr. Charles, “in case I need to track someone down after banking hours.”
“Of course,” Mr. Charles said.
Nancy jotted down Evelyn Sobel’s address as well as those of Larry and Maurice. That covered everyone who knew the combination to either the vault or the alarm. “There’s just one more I need,” she said. “What’s Jill’s last name—you know, the girl who stormed out of here this morning?”
“Adler,” Mr. Charles said.
Nancy found Jill’s address. “Sixty-four Mountain Avenue,” Nancy murmured, writing it down. Then she snapped the notebook shut. “I’m going to pay Ms. Adler a visit, to try to find out what that blow-up was all about.”
“Mountain Avenue’s just a few blocks from here,” Mr. Charles told her, and he gave her some quick directions.
“In that case, I’ll walk,” Nancy said.
Nancy knew she had to talk to Bess and George before she left, so she made a point to stop in the lobby. Bess was working with a customer, but George was over by the photocopy machine making copies from a thick three-ring binder. Checking first to make sure none of the other bank employees were within earshot—and hoping they wouldn’t notice the two of them talking—Nancy hurried over.
George grinned as she saw Nancy, then rolled her eyes. “I’m copying all the bank transactions for the past month. Let me tell you, working at a bank can be really boring sometimes.”
“Well, I’ve got an assignment for you,” Nancy whispered, “so maybe that will liven things up.”
George smiled. “At Bentley Bank, our goal is to serve you.”
Nancy laughed, then said, “In connection with the glove, keep your eyes open for Evelyn Sobel.”
“Anything specific you want us to find out?”
“Whatever you can,” Nancy said. “And while you’re at it, take a look at her hands. Those gloves were pretty small.”
“Got it,” George said.
Nancy gave her friend’s hand a squeeze, then started across the lobby. Pushing open one of the big wooden doors, she emerged into the afternoon sunlight. A fresh summer breeze was blowing up the hill from Lake Bentley. Closing her eyes, Nancy let the cool wind tickle her neck, and she lifted her face to catch the warmth of the sun. It was such a beautiful day. Too bad she didn’t have time to enjoy it.
Nancy shook her head. She needed to concentrate on the task at hand. As she followed Mr. Charles’s directions past the police station, Kathy’s Cafe, and Bentley Hospital, she couldn’t help wondering what she was walking into. After all, she already knew Jill Adler had a very nasty temper.
Turning onto Mountain Avenue, Nancy saw that it was extremely steep. She peered down the hill, saw a dead end, and at the bottom, a tall metal barricade. Beyond it, Lake Bentley sparkled in the sun. The street was so narrow that there wasn’t even a sidewalk, and the rows of parked cars that lined both sides of the pavement were squeezed up against the high hedges of the houses. Nancy started down the slope, walking in the middle of the quiet street.
As she walked, she went over what she knew so far. At least two criminals had to be working together to get inside the vault. Larry Jaye and Evelyn Sobel were the only ones who knew the vault combination. Mr. Charles and Maurice Grun knew the alarm code. One person from each pair had to be in on the job.
It was pretty unlikely that Mr. Charles would undermine his own business, and besides, he was the one who had called her in on the job. So the criminal who knew the alarm code had to be Maurice Grun. Now the question was, who was he working with, Evelyn Sobel or Larry Jaye? And was anyone else in on the crime—like Jill Adler?
The sound of a motor interrupted Nancy’s thoughts. Turning, she saw the front end of a car as it pulled off a side street and paused at the corner of Mountain Avenue. Nancy checked the numbers of the house nearest to her. Number 64, Jill’ s house, must be down at the bottom of the hill.
The question was, how did Jill fit into the puzzle? She didn’t have access to the vault. Still, Nancy couldn’t rule her out as a suspect. Maybe she had other information the thieves needed. Without knowing what her fight with Maurice had been about, Nancy guessed that the two had a close relationship. Whether their connection was personal or criminal, Nancy wasn’t sure. But she needed to find out.
The slope took an even steeper dip as Nancy neared the bottom of the hill. The metal barrier was just a few yards ahead of her. She took a deep breath as she stepped toward the last house on the right, number 64, a well-tended two-family home.
Before Nancy could reach the door, the sound of a car motor cut into the serene afternoon. Nancy turned to glance over her shoulder at the noise, then froze in horror. The car she’d seen above her on the hill was racing down Mountain Avenue straight toward her. In another instant it would send her slamming fatally into the metal fence!
Nancy looked frantically to her right and left. She was hemmed in on either side by parked cars, and there was nothing but the ten-foot-high metal barricade directly ahead of her. With nowhere to turn, she had time for only one shocking realization. The car had no driver!
A Broken Engagement
Escape was impossible! Nancy hadn’t an inch to spare, and in a few seconds the driverless car would come crashing onto her!
Reacting with pure instinct, she leapt to her right. She could feel her back come slamming down onto something metal—the hood of a parked car. Rolling over it, she slid across the hedge and dropped down to the private lawn on the other side. The moment she landed, she heard a deafening boom and felt a rush of heat as the car exploded.
For a moment Nancy lay still, her ears ringing with the noise, her heart pounding. Then, taking a deep breath, she grabbed the scratchy branches of the bush and cautiously pulled herself to her feet.
The explosion of light from the fire was so intense that she had to shield her eyes from it. The black outline of the driverless car was still visible inside the bonfire of orange flames that rose high into the air. The sweet-smelling lake breeze was now sooty with smoke.
Nancy shuddered. To think that she had almost been caught in the middle of it all! Taking a slow, deep breath, she checked herself over. Luckily, she hadn’t suffered anything worse than a few bruises and some grass stains on her blue suit.
She was sure it was no accident that a driverless car had suddenly taken off like a missile down the very street on which she’d been walking. Someone wanted her dead! And that someone had probably seen her leave the bank, followed in the car, and jumped out just before it crashed!
Nancy scanned the hill, although she was certain the would-be murderer had long since escaped. Sure enough, the only people she saw were coming out of their houses to check out the terrible fire. Nancy frowned, feeling shaken and angry. She didn’t know who the driver had been. She had, however, learned an important fact about the suspects. They might not have committed a robbery—yet—but they certainly weren’t above committing murder!
“Are you all right?” a woman called out.
Nancy turned. The upstairs door to 64 Mountain Avenue had been thrown wide open. Jill Adler was running down the exterior staircase and across the lawn toward her. An expression of fear and concern gripped the petite girl’s pretty features, and her dark hair bounced as she ran.
Though still dazed, Nancy realized this was a lucky break. Now she had the perfect excuse to talk to Jill.
“I’m fine,” she reassured Jill, “but I think I’d better sit down for a moment—and someone needs to call the fire department. Would it be okay if I used your phone?”
“Oh sure,” Jill agreed readily. “Come on up.”
Nancy followed Jill toward the shingled white house. There was a front door at street level, and stairs ran up the side of the house to another door on the second floor. Jill headed up the flight of stairs, with Nancy close behind her.
As Nancy stepped inside, she found herself in a small living room with a faded flowered sofa and chair with saggy cushions. The telephone sat atop an old oversize TV that was set into a fake wood cabinet.
Jill seemed a little embarrassed about the decor. “The furniture used to belong to my parents,” she explained apologetically. “They unloaded it on me when they got their new living room set.”
“It’s fine,” Nancy reassured her with a smile.
“Why don’t you sit down and relax a bit while I call the fire department and the police,” Jill suggested. “I’m sure you don’t feel up to much right now.”
“Thanks,” Nancy said. As she sank into the chair’s soft cushions, she realized she was more tired than she thought. She appreciated Jill’s consideration at this moment. Could this really be the same person who’d thrown the money trays around the bank that morning?
Jill handled the emergency calls in a straightforward, clear manner, and Nancy found herself actually liking her suspect—especially after Jill hung up the phone and hurried to get her a tall glass of orange juice.
When Jill settled into the flowered sofa across from Nancy’s chair, Nancy noticed that Jill’s eyes were red and puffy, as if she’d been crying.
“You look like you haven’t had a much better day than I have,” Nancy said sympathetically.
Jill shrugged. “I just quit my job.”
“I know,” Nancy said. “In fact, that’s why I was coming to see you, believe it or not.”
Jill looked at her suspiciously. “Who are you?” she demanded, her friendliness vanishing instantly.
Nancy had already figured out a story to explain her presence. It wasn’t too much of a lie, but she couldn’t be sure that Jill would buy it.
“I’m Nancy Drew,” she began. “I’m a new intern over at the bank. Mr. Charles asked me to come over here to make sure you’re all right. We were all pretty concerned about you this morning.”
Jill laughed without humor. “Not all of you,” she replied bitterly. “I know one particular bank employee who isn’t the least bit concerned. In fact, if it hadn’t been for him, I’d still have a job right now.”
Nancy chose her words carefully. “I realize we don’t know each other, but if you feel like talking about it, I’m a good listener. Maybe I could even talk to Mr. Charles and help you get your job back.”
“For an intern you seem to have a lot of clout with the boss,” Jill commented suspiciously.
Nancy silently chastised herself. If she didn’t watch it, she’d have no cover left by the time she finished with Jill. But her own worries turned to genuine concern for Jill when she saw the other girl’s expression crumble and big, wet tears begin snaking down her cheeks. Jill buried her face in her hands and great, heaving sobs racked her whole body. Nancy rummaged through her purse, looking for a tissue. She came up with a clean, slightly rumpled one.
“Here,” she said, holding the tissue out to Jill. Jill took it and blew her nose. “Is there something I can do?” Nancy asked. “Really, I’d like to help.”
Jill didn’t answer, but soon she began to cry more softly. Then she wiped her eyes and took a deep breath.
“I might as well tell you the whole story,” she said. “Sometimes it’s easier talking to someone you don’t know.”
“Who are you upset with?” Nancy asked, not letting on how much she knew.
“His name is Maurice Grun,” Jill said with a sigh. She picked nervously at the frayed upholstery of the sofa. “When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t upset with him at all. In fact, I was engaged to him. We were supposed to be married next month. But today, as soon as I got to work, he came up to my station and said, 'It’s over. I’d like the ring back.’”
“Just like that?” Nancy asked incredulously. “Didn’t he give you any explanation?”
Jill nodded sadly. “He said he’d met someone else. As simple as that. I just couldn’t believe it. I kept staring at him, thinking it was some kind of cruel joke. Then I realized he meant it, and I exploded! I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry in my entire life. How could he have done this to me? How could he tell me he loved me one minute, then go behind my back the next? If I ever get my hands on him, I’ll—” Jill broke off as she began to sob again.