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ПРИЯТНОГО ЧТЕНИЯ!
Carolyn Keene
Nancy Drew Mystery Stories: Volume Eighty-Three
The Case of the Vanishing Veil
Copyright © 1988 by Simon and Schuster, Inc.
A Boston Wedding...
A Veiled Threat...
A Dangerous Environment...
When Nancy attends a wedding in Boston, she encounters a marriage marred by mischief. The groom may have stolen the bride's heart, but a thief has made off with her antique lace veil!
From a mansion in Cape Cod to a museum of witchcraft in Salem, Nancy, Bess, and George follow a trail of intrigue and deceit across the New England countryside. They uncover the shocking story behind the wedding-day prank -- and a $60 million mystery behind the vanishing veil!
The Veil Disappears
“It’s gone. We can’t find it anywhere and Meredith is hysterical,” George Fayne said to her friend Nancy Drew. George was a little out of breath, and she was whispering so no one else in the beautiful old stone church could hear her. The smell of fresh-cut flowers was everywhere.
Eighteen-year-old Nancy Drew pushed back her reddish blond hair. She turned in her pew and looked at George, who was standing in the aisle beside her.
“What’s gone?” Nancy whispered back.
“Meredith’s wedding veil,” said George. “It’s an antique, and she refuses to get married without it.”
“Are you sure it’s not just a case of prewedding nerves?” asked Nancy.
“I don’t know,” George answered, glancing toward the back of the church. “Oh — wait a sec. Someone’s motioning to me. Maybe they found it.”
George picked up the skirt of her long, apricot-colored brides-maid’s dress and hurried down the aisle toward the door.
Nancy watched George leave and then swiveled back toward her friend Bess Marvin, who was sitting on the bench next to Nancy.
“What should we do?” Nancy said with an uncertain expression on her face.
“Don’t look at me, “ Bess said. “ I didn’t take the bride’s veil. I’m just sitting here like a good wedding guest… waiting patiently. I mean, am I complaining because the wedding is half an hour late, and we’ve come all the way to Boston for a wedding where we don’t even know the bride or groom, and the church is stuffy, and my new heels are killing me? No. I’m focused on one thing and one thing only— “
“Catching the bridal bouquet,” Nancy said.
“Right,” Bess said.
Nancy looked at her watch for the tenth time in ten minutes. “Still, don’t you think we should go help them find it?” she said to Bess. “It’s getting late.”
“Find the bouquet?” Bess answered.
“No, silly! The veil!” Nancy laughed. “You really are focused on only one thing.”
“Don’t worry about the veil,” Bess replied. “It’ll turn up. Weddings never start on time anyway.
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The organist was playing the same three songs over and over. Wedding guests talked and shifted restlessly on the benches.
Nancy smoothed the skirt of her flowered print dress and listened to the conversations going on around her.
“Meredith won’t be the first bride to get cold feet,” a woman in front of her said.
Across the aisle two men were talking intently. “It’s amazing,” Nancy heard one of them say. “I read in the paper that they still haven’t found an heir to the Thorndike fortune. Sixty million dollars!” He shook his head slowly back and forth.
“Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom,” said a little boy in a loud voice. His mother sighed, but everyone else laughed.
“You friends of the bride?” asked a man next to Bess. He was sitting uncomfortably in a tuxedo with his hands on his knees. His wife and daughters were beside him.
“No, we’re friends of George Fayne — one of the bridesmaids,” Nancy said.
“George is my cousin,” Bess said, plucking an invisible piece of lint from her navy blue dress. “George and Meredith met at camp and have been friends ever since,” she explained.
The man’s wife looked confused. “Isn’t he going to feel silly being a bridesmaid?” she asked.
“George is a girl, ” Bess said coldly. She was going to say more but stopped herself when she saw George rushing back down the aisle.
“What’s going on?” Bess asked when George reached the pew.
George just shook her head and said quickly, “Don’t ask — follow me.”
“Let’s go,” Nancy said, picking up her handbag and straw hat.
The three girls were quiet until they reached the vestibule of the church. Then George began speaking as she led the way up some stairs. “I was hoping everything would go perfectly for Meredith. She deserves it,” George said in a serious voice. “She hasn’t exactly gotten all the breaks. I mean it’s awful how both her parents were killed in a plane crash when she was only eight.”
“I know what that’s like,” Nancy said. For a moment, Nancy thought of her own mother, who had died when Nancy was three.
“Yes,” George said sympathetically. “Anyway, Meredith is freaking out about her wedding veil. So I told her you were a detective and that maybe you could help.”
By then they were standing outside a carved wooden door on the second floor of the church. George knocked once and opened the door.
The room was small but bright with sunlight pouring through two windows. The largest piece of furniture in the room was a full-length mirror.
Meredith Brody was sitting alone on a metal folding chair when Nancy, George, and Bess came in. She had long black hair and skin even paler than her pearl-embroidered wedding dress.
“Meredith, this is my cousin Bess and my friend Nancy Drew,” George said.
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The twenty-year-old bride stood up and walked forward to shake hands with Bess first.
“So you’re George’s cousin. I’m so happy to meet you at last. You’re even prettier than she said.” Meredith’s manners were perfect, but her voice was filled with tension. Then she greeted Nancy. “Thank you for coming to my wedding. George always told me what a fabulous detective you are. But I never thought I’d need a detective on my wedding day.”
“At least the groom’s not missing,” Nancy said warmly. “I saw him downstairs. He looks nice.”
“Mark’s the greatest,” Meredith said, her face lighting up at the mention of her fiance, Mark Webb. But a moment later the tension returned.
“Tell me about your veil,” Nancy said. “Is it valuable?”
“No, but it’s my grandmother’s veil, the one she got married in,” Meredith answered. “After my parents died, my grandmother brought me up. She’s practically my only family. That’s why it’s so important to me.”
Meredith ran her fingers through her long hair and started pacing around the room. “I’ve got to find it, and soon. Everyone down there must be wondering what’s going on,” she said nervously. “Maybe it blew out the window when my back was turned.”
“It didn’t blow out the window,” Nancy said, her eyes darting around the room. “It’s too far from the window to that small chest of drawers.”
“How did you know I put the veil on the chest of drawers?” Meredith asked.
“There’s no other place in this room to put anything,” Nancy said. “Besides, that’s where your hair combs are. You’d keep them nearby.”
Meredith’s face seemed to relax a little. “George was certainly right about you. You are a fabulous detective.”
“Is there anyone else who knows how much the veil means to you?” Nancy asked. “Someone who might want to play a trick on you — a very cruel trick?”
Meredith shook her head no. “Honestly, I don’t think I have a single enemy. I can’t explain it. One minute my veil was right there and the next minute it was gone.”
“What were you doing before you noticed the veil was missing?” Nancy asked.
“Well, by that time everyone in the wedding party except George had gone downstairs. I was standing at the mirror adjusting my dress, and someone knocked on the door,” Meredith said. “There in the doorway was a woman with red hair and a lot of makeup. Her face was all smiles. Just looking at her made me feel good — as though she thought I was the most beautiful bride on earth. She introduced herself as Mrs. Petry, the minister’s wife. She said Reverend Petry had to see me right away. So I went with her.”
“Where?” Nancy asked.
Meredith walked quickly out of the small room and into the dark, narrow hallway. George, Bess, and Nancy followed, their high heels clicking on the stone floor.
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At the end of the hallway, Meredith stopped in front of a solid wooden door.
“She said her husband was waiting in his office for me,” Meredith said. “Go on in, Nancy. You don’t have to knock.”
Nancy reached for the smooth brass door handle and opened the door. Inside, a single bare lightbulb swung back and forth. It took a few seconds for Nancy’s eyes to adjust to the dimness. But when they did, she saw nothing but brooms, mops, and buckets sitting on the floor.
“Gee,” said Bess, “you’d think a minister would have a better office than this.”
“It’s a broom closet, Bess,” said George.
Bess coughed.
“What did Mrs. Petry say after you opened the door?” Nancy asked Meredith.
“I turned around and she was gone.”
“All fight,” Nancy said, turning to Bess. “Could you go find Mrs. Petry? And George, you go tell the minister that Meredith needs ten more minutes before the wedding can start.”
Bess and George hurried off to find the minister and his wife, leaving Nancy alone with the unhappy bride.
“Cheer up,” Nancy said kindly to Meredith. “You look absolutely beautiful — veil or no veil.”
“You don’t understand,” Meredith said. “I have to get it back.” She looked around in the hallway. “Maybe I carried the veil with me when I came into the hall, and then dropped it somewhere.”
“That’s not what happened,” Nancy said. “You didn’t lose the veil. Someone stole it.”
Meredith let out her breath in a sigh. “That’s what I think, too. But how? Besides, the minister’s wife — a thief? It doesn’t make sense.”
“We’ll see,” Nancy said. “Let’s reenact what happened. I’ll turn around and open the door to the broom closet again. This time, you try to go back to the dressing room.”
Nancy opened the closet again and stared at the cleaning tools for a moment. “Stop!” Nancy shouted, and Meredith’s footsteps stopped.
Nancy turned around. “I looked inside and realized there was some kind of mistake, just as you did. So I turned around to ask Mrs. Petry what was going on, just as you did. But you said she was already gone.”
“She was, and I’m only halfway down the hall,” Meredith said.
“Right,” Nancy answered, “which means she must have exited somewhere between here and the dressing room. She couldn’t have made it all the way back there to steal the veil.”
“So Mrs. Petry is innocent,” Meredith said, relaxing against the wall. “I’m glad. It would have been embarrassing to tell Reverend Petry thanks for a wonderful wedding and by the way, your wife’s a thief.”
Both young women laughed and walked back into the dressing room.
“No, Mrs. Petry didn’t steal it,” Nancy said. “But I think she tricked you into leaving the room — so that someone else could. ”
Meredith’s face suddenly collapsed. “I was afraid of this. It’s coming true. The prediction is coming true — and my whole marriage is going to be ruined!”
She fell back onto the folding chair, and after one last brave moment, burst into tears.
Nancy opened her handbag and pulled out a handful of tissues.
“The bride’s not supposed to cry at the wedding,” she said. She handed all but one of the tissues to Meredith. “Here. I’m keeping one for myself — to use during the ceremony. Now come on and tell me what this is all about.”
Meredith dried her eyes and gave Nancy a small smile.
“What a good friend you are,” Meredith said. “And you don’t really even know me.” Then she blew her nose a few times and began talking.
“It’s about a prediction,” Meredith said. “You see, about a year ago, I was really down. Nothing was going right for me. So just for fun, I went to see an astrologer — Helga Tarback. She told me a lot of things about myself — all her predictions came true. Then she said I’d meet a man who had dark, angry eyes, but that I shouldn’t be afraid of him because I was going to marry him.”
“Mark Webb, your fiancé, has dark eyes,” Nancy said. “In fact his eyes are riveting — I noticed.”
“Right. Well, two days after I talked to Helga, I rear-ended a green sports car in a parking lot,” Meredith went on. “The driver — who was Mark — jumped out, ran over, and began yelling at me. But then we looked at each other and, believe it or not, it was love at first sight. That was a year ago.”
“And you went back to see Helga Tarback again?” asked Nancy.
“Yes, about three or four times,” Meredith said. “Because she always told me good things, and everything she said seemed to come true. But the last time I saw her, she said she had bad news. She said that something was going to be lost or stolen on my wedding day, and if I didn’t get it back, my whole marriage would be shrouded in a cloud of bad luck. Those were her exact words — ’a cloud of bad luck.’“
Before Nancy could speak again, Bess and George walked back into the room.
“I couldn’t find Mrs. Petry,” Bess said. “But George found Reverend Petry, and wait till you hear what he said.”
Nancy waited. George didn’t speak up.
“Well? What did Reverend Petry say, George?” Nancy asked.
George bit her lip. “He said he’s not married, and he never has been!”
Just then a car horn blasted from the street below. It played “Here Comes the Bride” three times loudly. But the horn was only half as loud as the rough voice that called out afterward.
“Meredith! Meredith Brody!” shouted a young man at the top of his lungs.
Suddenly Meredith jumped to her feet and looked out the window. “Oh, no,” she said, backing as far away from the window as possible. “I knew he’d ruin my wedding!”
“Meredith!” he shouted again. “Are you listening, sweetheart? I told you I’d be back!”
Visitor from the Past
Meredith opened her mouth to say something, but only a small sob came out.
Nancy rushed to the window and looked down at the street in front of the church. A young man was standing on the roof of a car with his hands on his hips. “Meredith, you can run but you can’t hide,” he shouted.
“Who is he?” asked Nancy.
“His name is Tony Fiske,” Meredith answered, anger flushing her cheeks. “And I’m sorry to admit it, but he was my boyfriend once upon a time.”
“We all make mistakes,” George said dryly.
“Well, my mistake with Tony was thinking that he’d outgrow talking loudly, running stop lights, and getting into fist fights. Eventually I realized what a jerk he was and told him I never wanted to see him again. But he kept trying to see me — even after Mark and I were engaged. A week ago he even had the nerve to call up to say he wouldn’t let me marry anyone else.”
“So you do have an enemy,” Nancy said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t think of him as an enemy. He’s just a huge mistake in my life, and I wish he would disappear.”
Bess glanced at Nancy. “I’ll bet Tony Fiske stole the veil,” she announced. “What do you think, Nancy?”
“I think I’d like to have a word with him,” Nancy said, heading for the door.
“I’m coming with you,” Bess said.
“You can tell him two words for me — get lost, “ Meredith called as Nancy and Bess hurried out of the dressing room.
They ran along the hall and down the long set of steps to the main floor of the church. Nancy pushed the heavy wooden church door open, and stepped across the threshold. Outside, it took a minute for the girls’ eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight, but as soon as they could see again, Nancy and Bess realized that Tony Fiske had vanished.
“Do you think he really stole the veil, Nancy.” Bess asked.
“I don’t know.” Nancy sighed. “Tony’s gone, Mrs. Petry’s gone, Meredith’s veil is gone. Nothing stays in one place long enough for me to find anything out.”
“And the limo’s gone, too,” Bess said out of the blue.
Nancy turned to her friend. “What do you mean, Bess? The limo is parked right in front of us.”
“Not that dark limo. Didn’t you see that milky white stretch limo?” Bess replied. “It was parked across from the church when we arrived.”
Nancy nodded.
“I noticed it because it had one of those one-word license plates on it. LICORICE. Pretty funny for an all-white car,” Bess said. “I thought for sure it was Meredith and Mark’s getaway car for after the wedding. But it’s gone.”
Why would the bride and groom’s limo leave the wedding without them? Nancy wondered. It didn’t make sense.
“It’s a due, isn’t it?” Bess asked, following quietly behind Nancy. “I can see it written all over your face.”
Nancy, lost in her own thoughts, didn’t answer her friend. Instead she walked across the church lawn and stood in front of the ivy-covered wall underneath Meredith’s dressing-room window.
“Meredith!” Nancy called to the second-story window.
Meredith’s head leaned out.
“Your astrologer said the veil had to be found,” Nancy called. “But she didn’t say it had to be found before the wedding, did she?”
“No,” Meredith called back.
“Great. Then why don’t you and Mark get married before all of your guests leave and I’ll find the veil afterward?”
“Good idea!” shouted Meredith.
“You’re a genius,” Bess said, taking Nancy’s arm. “But we’ve got to hurry. Now that I know the bride, I want to get a better seat!”
“Okay.” Nancy laughed. “But we left our bags upstairs. You get the seats and I’ll be right back.”
Bess headed into the church, and Nancy climbed the stone stairs once more to retrieve their handbags. But when she got to the dressing room, a tall, imperious woman stood in front of Meredith and George, blocking the doorway. Even from the back, Nancy could see that the woman was elderly. Her gray lace dress and pillbox hat were many years out of fashion. Still, she carried herself with dignity and grace.
“Merry,” said the white-haired old woman, “there are over a hundred people waiting for you downstairs. What’s your problem? Second thoughts? Cold feet?” The old woman thumped her cane on the floor.
“No, Grandmother Rose,” Meredith said. “It’s just that my veil has been stolen.”
“Your veil has been stolen?”
“Grandmother, I’d like you to meet Nancy Drew. She’s a friend of George’s and she’s been trying to find my veil for me.”
“Well, where is she?” the old woman said, thumping her cane again.
“Behind you,” George answered.
Meredith’s grandmother turned around.
“Nancy, meet my grandmother, Rose Strauss,” Meredith said.
Nancy held out her hand. “How do you do?” she said. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
Mrs. Strauss quickly shook Nancy’s hand. “Nice to meet me — hmmph. Were you a counselor at that summer camp, too?”
“No,” Nancy explained. “George and Meredith were counselors together and I’m a friend of George’s from home. We both live in River Heights.”
“Another Midwesterner,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, I’m from Maine. Maybe we Yankees take some getting used to. We don’t care much about being polite — just honest. Now, what’s this about the veil?”
“Someone seems to be sabotaging Meredith’s wedding,” George said. “A mysterious woman was walking around pretending to be the minister’s wife, too.”
“I expect that’s the minister’s problem,” said Rose Strauss. “And as for that veil — I never should have given it to you in the first place, Merry.”
“Why not?” Meredith asked. She sounded hurt.
“It just covers up your pretty face,” Mrs. Strauss said. “Now let’s get this show on the road.”
Rose Strauss walked over and started brushing Meredith’s hair. Then she turned her granddaughter around for a final inspection.
“There — you look perfect,” Rose said. Meredith gave her grandmother a hug and then the bridal party rushed downstairs to take their places so the wedding could begin.
The ceremony was simple, short, and lovely — just what the hot and thirsty wedding guests wanted. Meredith looked radiant, even without a veil.
Afterward Nancy and Bess congratulated the newlyweds in the receiving line outside the church.
“I’m so happy and grateful to you,” Meredith told Nancy. “But I still want the veil back. After Helga’s prediction, I can’t help it — I guess I’m just superstitious.”
“Don’t worry,” Nancy reassured her. “I’m on the case already. Just do me one favor: Keep your eyes open at the reception and tell me if you see the redheaded woman again. Okay?”
Meredith promised that she would.
The reception was held in a beautiful hotel in Cambridge, on the banks of the Charles River. Nancy and her friends gazed at the graceful, meandering river as their cab sped across one of the many small bridges that connected Boston to the smaller, quieter Cambridge.
As soon as Nancy, Bess, and George walked into the hotel ballroom, George was whisked away to pose for photos.
“Look at this place!” Bess gasped, her head tilted back to take in the elaborate chandeliers which hung from the ceiling. Thick, plush red carpeting covered the floors, and the walls were covered in gold and white brocade wallpaper.
“I know,” Nancy agreed. “And there are three other ballrooms just like this one. We passed them in the corridor.”
Nancy and Bess found seats at one of the small round tables draped with white tablecloths. But Bess didn’t sit down.
“I’ll get us some food,” Bess offered. Eating was one of Bess’s favorite occupations, whatever the occasion.
While Bess was gone, Nancy looked around the room and thought about the missing veil. Was there someone among the wedding guests who might have stolen it? Nancy wondered. Was the phony minister’s wife involved? Did Tony Fiske take it as a prank? Or was something else going on?
Conversations at the nearby tables snapped Nancy out of her private thoughts. The talk seemed to be divided into two topics. Either people were saying how beautiful the bride, the ceremony, and the reception were, or they were talking about Boston’s famous and recently deceased multimillionaire, Brendan Thorndike. Nancy couldn’t help overhearing what they said.
At the table next to her, a husband and wife were leaning close to each other.
“Just think, Betty, if I could somehow prove that I’m the only living heir of Brendan Thorndike, the old buzzard’s sixty million dollars would fall right into our laps,” said the husband. He took a big gulp of champagne.
“That would be great, Dirk,” said his wife, smiling fondly at him. “But half of Boston is trying to pull that same seam. Besides, you aren’t related to Brendan Thorndike.”
“A small detail,” Dirk said, laughing.
Nancy’s attention was suddenly drawn away to the opposite end of the room. At the table where champagne punch was being served was a woman with startlingly bright red hair.
Nancy jumped up and cut through the crowds of talkers and dancers, trying to reach the table before the red-haired woman got away. Had Meredith seen the woman? Nancy wondered. No — she was busy cutting the cake. When Nancy finally reached Meredith, the bride and the groom were laughing and wiping bits of chocolate cake and white icing off their fingers.
“Meredith,” Nancy said. “Look over there. Is that the red-haired woman you saw? The one who pretended to be Mrs. Petry?”
Meredith had to wait a moment for the woman across the room to turn around. When she did, Meredith laughed. “Oh, Nancy,” she said. “That’s Mark’s aunt Pat.”
Nancy shrugged and carried pieces of wedding cake away for Bess and herself. On the way She scanned the room, looking for Meredith’s grandmother, Rose Strauss. Finally she found the older woman sitting at a center table, eating a plateful of mints and nuts.
“Mrs. Strauss,” Nancy said, sitting down for a moment, “I’ve been trying to catch you ever since we left the church. Would you mind telling me about the veil? What does it look like?”
“It’s old, handmade lace,” Rose said. “And it has a very large rose worked into the center of the back. It’s the only thing I saved from my wedding, and now I wish I hadn’t.”
“Do you have any photos of it?” asked Nancy.
“No.”
Her answer was curt and definite, as if to say the subject was closed. But then she went on. “I know Meredith wants you to get the veil back. But it’s of no great consequence to me, and I don’t give a hoot for astrologers” predictions. As far as I’m concerned, that veil will bring Merry more bad luck if she has it than if she doesn’t. Just look at how it almost ruined her wedding.”
Rose Strauss eyed Nancy sideways before saying any more.
“Meredith is already married, so do yourself a favor, young lady. Forget about the veil and just enjoy the rest of the day.”
Before Nancy could say another word, Rose stood, and the band leader stepped up to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom will lead off the first dance. Clear the floor, please.”
Nancy returned to her own table and watched Meredith and Mark dance. As George and the best man, Mark’s brother, joined the couple on the dance floor, Bess dropped down next to Nancy with a plateful of sandwiches.
“Great food,” she said. “Try a sandwich.”
The girls spent the rest of the reception sampling the food and dancing with a few of Mark’s friends. Finally the band leader announced that the bride and groom would be leaving soon.
“Will everyone please gather outside the hotel to see them off?” he said.
Instantly Bess appeared at Nancy’s side and whispered one word: “Bouquet.”
“Don’t count on it,” Nancy warned her friend.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Bess replied. “I made a deal.”
When they got outside, the sun, which had been bright earlier, was hiding behind clouds. The air felt cooler and damper. The sky threatened rain.
And as soon as Meredith and Mark stepped out of the hotel it did start raining. But it rained rice, not raindrops. The young couple laughed and tried to cover themselves, but the rice came from every direction. Then, with a wink, Meredith threw her bouquet into the air and directly into Bess’s waiting hands.
“Invite me to your wedding!” Meredith teased Bess.
Mark and Meredith then pushed their way through the crowd and jumped into the black limo waiting at the curb. “Goodbye, Gram! Goodbye, George!” Meredith shouted and waved behind the closed, smoked-glass window of the car.
The driver started the engine and began to pull away. But suddenly a large black cloud of smoke and an explosion burst from the back end of the car. The startled crowd jumped back, and watched in horror as the limo lunged forward onto the side-walk — and then smashed into an iron fence!
The White Limousine
“What happened?”
“Call the police!”
“Are they hurt?”
Everyone was shouting at once and running toward the car. Its back fender was crumpled and its front end was wedged up against the iron fence.
After a long minute, the limo driver swung his door open and climbed out. He was shaking his head, confused and dizzy. But he was uninjured. He jerked the back door open and looked in as the crowd closed around him.
“They’re all right!”
The word spread quickly, but Nancy didn’t feel relieved until Meredith and Mark climbed out of the car. Rose Strauss, who was standing away from the crowd with Bess, took a deep breath.
“I heard that big boom, and I just lost control,” the driver explained over and over. “I just lost control.”
When Nancy reached the car, Meredith was leaning on it, crumpling a “Just Married” sign in her hand. Mark was beside her, his arm wrapped snugly around her shoulders.
“I can’t help it, Mark,” she said to him. “It’s true. We are starting our marriage under a cloud of bad luck.”
Mark’s dark eyes looked steadily into Meredith’s, and his voice was calm. “Meredith,” he said, “we don’t have to cancel our honeymoon just because a couple of weird things happened.”
“Do you want a life filled with accidents?” she said.
“This wasn’t an accident,” Nancy interrupted. “I just checked out the rear of the car. Someone put some Small plastic explosives in a tin can and tied it to the bumper.”
“Explosives?” Meredith said. “Oh, great!”
“It’s not that serious,” Nancy said. “It was just meant to make some smoke and noise. The can bouncing on the cobblestone street probably set it off.”
The crowd let Rose Strauss and Bess through, and Meredith gave her grandmother a long, clinging hug.
“We’re both fine, Mrs. Strauss,” Mark said. “We just want to get out of here.”
“Speak for yourself,” Meredith said. “I don’t want to go. I want my veil back so this horrible prediction won’t come true.”
Mark gave Nancy a pleading look, and at the same time, Bess poked Nancy in the side. Everyone expected her to do something.
“Meredith, listen,” Nancy said, mustering her most confident tone of voice. “I promised I’d find your veil and I will. Really. Go on your honeymoon, and by the time you get back, I’ll have solved this case.”
Meredith still hesitated.
“If anyone can do it, it’s Nancy,” George reassured her friend.
Meredith seemed to relax a little when she heard that.
“Okay, but I’ll call you every day to find out how it’s coming,” Meredith said.
One of Mark’s friends hailed a taxi and then transferred the luggage and the bride and groom into the cab. The guests stayed to watch the taxi bounce away down the narrow stone street, making certain Meredith and Mark were safely on their way this time.
“It was a nice wedding, even with the extra excitement, wasn’t it?” George said to her friends.
“It was wonderful,” Bess agreed with a sigh. “But now let’s go back to our hotel and recuperate.”
“Good idea,” George said. “But I feel an attack of tourist-it is coming on. How about going for a sunset Swan Boat ride?”
“Not until I get out of these high heels,” said Bess.
“And I want to call my dad first,” Nancy said. The three friends quickly hailed a cab and hopped in.
“To the Ritz!” Bess said to the cabdriver in her most theatrical voice.
They were staying in the famous Ritz-Carlton, one of Boston’s most elegant hotels. Ordinarily, the Ritz would have been too extravagant for the three teenagers. But the hotel had a special rate for guests staying more than just a few days. By splitting it three ways, Nancy, Bess, and George could afford to indulge in a little luxury.
Nancy entered their room, which faced a beautiful park, and flopped down onto one of the brocade bedspreads covering the enormous beds. Bess kicked off her shoes and collapsed in a huge chair. And George, who was never really comfortable in a dress, immediately changed into pants.
“I’m hungry,” Bess announced, heading for the room’s mini-refrigerator. It was stocked with sodas and juices, nuts and candy bars.
“But you just ate at the reception!” George teased.
“That doesn’t count,” Bess complained. “Everyone knows that you never really get full at a buffet like that. You just keep filling those tiny little plates, and then when you get home, you still feel like you haven’t had anything to eat. Where’s the room-service menu?”
While Bess read the menu, George thumbed through a sightseer’s guide to Boston, and Nancy called her father, Carson Drew, River Heights’s most prominent attorney.
“Guess who,” Nancy said into the phone.
“The Queen of England? I’ve always wanted to get a call from her,” said Carson Drew, laughing.
“You’re funny sometimes, you know that?” Nancy said.
“Thank you. I do my best. How’s Boston? And how was the wedding?”
“Beautiful … but, Dad, I need a favor,” said Nancy.
“That’s strange,” Carson Drew said. “You only say that when you’re working on a mystery — not when you’re a guest at a wedding.”
“Actually, Dad, there is a mystery involved; the bride’s veil was stolen.”
“So you are working on a case,” Nancy’s father said with surprise. “What’s the favor?”
“You’ve always said you have a friend in every police department across the country,” Nancy began. “Who is it in Boston? I need to trace a license plate.”
“No problem,” said Carson Drew. “Lieutenant Burt Flood. He’s an old friend.”
“Thanks, Dad, I’ll tell him you said hello.” After hanging up with her father, Nancy made a quick call to the police station to let the lieutenant know she was coming.
Thirty minutes later her taxi pulled up to the precinct house.
She found Lieutenant Burt Flood at his desk, surrounded by stacks and stacks of papers, files, newspapers, and memos. When he stood up to greet Nancy, he wore a big smile.
“Carson Drew’s daughter? I don’t believe it,” the heavyset policeman said in a gravelly voice. “His little girl is three years old.”
“I was three — fifteen years ago,” Nancy said. She moved a stack of folders to sit down in a chair by his desk.
“Has it been fifteen years? I don’t believe it,” said Lieutenant Flood. “So what are you doing in Boston? Vacation?”
“I came here for a wedding, but now I’m working on a case,” Nancy said. “I’m a detective.”
“I don’t believe it,” he said again.
“My dad said you’d help me trace a license plate,” Nancy went on, ignoring his skepticism.
“Well,” he said, looking at her intently for a long minute. Then he broke into a broad smile. “For Carson Drew’s daughter, anything. I can have that for you in just a few minutes.”
The lieutenant tapped a few keys on his computer keyboard. “Okay, I’m ready. What’s the plate number?”
“It’s actually a one-word plate — LICORICE.” Tap tap tap. Lieutenant Flood squinted at the screen as he wrote down a name and address and handed it to Nancy. “Very fancy address. Lives in the Beacon Hill area,” he said.
“Thanks,” Nancy said.
“Any time,” the policeman answered. “It was great seeing you again. I’ll bet your dad’s real proud of you.”
As soon as Nancy left the precinct, she opened the folded piece of paper.
It said: Cecelia Bancroft, 1523 Chestnut Street.
Nancy looked at her watch, eager to follow up this lead. But there wasn’t time. She had promised to join Bess and George back at the hotel to go for a Swan Boat ride.
Well, Nancy thought to herself, a little tourist activity before starting this new case wouldn’t be a bad idea. Things would get pretty intense soon enough. Her cases always did.
When she got back to the hotel, Nancy phoned her friends from the lobby telephone. A few minutes later, they were in the Boston Public Garden, a park right across the street from the Ritz. Nancy was happy to finally see the famous Swan Boats, named for their swan shape. Now, at least, when every hotel clerk and bellboy asked, “Have you been on the Swan Boats yet?” Nancy could say yes!
The three friends enjoyed the relaxing ride as they watched the beautiful green garden pass by and dusk slowly fall.
After a supper of seafood and chowder, they returned to their room and collapsed. Each girl found a comfortable spot and sat with pencil and paper, writing. George made a list of places she wanted to see in Boston. Bess made a shopping list. And Nancy sat on her bed, working on a list of suspects and clues in the stolen veil case.
“We have two suspects,” Nancy said, as she began to write. “One has a name — Tony Fiske — and a very good motive. He’s Meredith’s old boyfriend. He’s hot-tempered and he wanted to make her mad. The other suspect has red hair. She has a name, too, but we don’t know what it really is.”
“We do know that it isn’t Mrs. Petry,” George said, looking up from her own paper.
“And now we add Cecelia Bancroft to the list, because she owns the white limo which was parked right outside the church when the veil was stolen,” Nancy said.
Nancy looked at the list for a full five minutes without saying a word.
“I think Tony is our man,” she finally said to George. “But I’ll see what Cecelia Bancroft has to say tomorrow.”
The next morning Nancy found Tony Fiske’s number in the phone book and called him several times. No one answered.
So she, Bess, and George dressed quickly and went over to Beacon Hill. It was an area famous for its beautiful old houses with wealthy, old Boston families in residence. There they found Cecelia Bancroft’s house on a historic, tree-lined street.
Nancy turned the brass crank-handle doorbell, which was in the middle of a solid wooden door. A noisy dog began barking on the other side.
The woman who opened the door was in her forties, very pretty with soft blond hair. She wore a satin jumpsuit and held a small black poodle tightly in her arms.
“Cecelia Bancroft?” asked Nancy.
“Yes,” answered the woman. “If you three girls have come about the ad in the paper, I’m afraid you’re too late.”
Nancy shook her head no. “No, we’re —” But before Nancy could say anything more, the dog started barking again.
“Oh, hush up, Licorice, hush up,” Cecelia said.
“I’m Nancy Drew,” Nancy said. “We haven’t come about the ad in the paper, but we’d like to ask you a few questions about a robbery.”
“A robbery!” the woman gasped. “Here? On Chestnut Street?”
“No,” Nancy replied. “Yesterday, at the Park Road Church.”
Cecelia looked puzzled, but she showed the girls into a large room. The dog followed, growling at their feet.
“You chose your license plate to go with your dog’s name, didn’t you?” Nancy asked, keeping an eye on the unfriendly black dog.
“Well, of course,” Cecelia said. “It would be stupid to do it the other way around — name your dog after your license plate — wouldn’t it? Then you’d end up with a dog named T2485, or something! But how do you know my license plate?”
“We saw your car parked outside the Park Road Church yesterday,” Nancy said.
“Oh, I see,” Cecelia said. “You have a miniature poodle too. Wonderful doggies, aren’t they?”
“No, we don’t own a poodle,” George said.
“Then what were you doing at Bruno’s French Poodle grooming shop?” asked Cecelia.
“We weren’t at the poodle grooming shop,” Nancy said. “We were at the Park Road Church — at a wedding.”
“Oh, of course. That’s right across the street from Bruno’s,” said Cecelia. “You know, I always cry at weddings. Of course, I always cry when Licorice is groomed, too. That’s why I drop him off and leave as fast as I can. Who was married?”
“My friend, Meredith Brody,” George said.
“I don’t know her, but I’m sure she was a lovely bride,” Cecelia answered.
Nancy looked at George. Both girls wondered if Cecelia was putting on this airhead act to confuse them. Nancy decided to get right to the point.
“She would have been lovelier if she had had her veil to wear,” Nancy said.
“Did she forget it?” Cecelia asked, playing with her dog’s ears.
“It was stolen,” Nancy said.
“A robbery — during a wedding — in a church! How unusual!”
“So you weren’t at the church after all,” Bess muttered. “I guess that would explain why the car disappeared.”
“Sorry,” Cecelia apologized, shrugging her shoulders.
“Well, I wonder if you saw anything or anyone suspicious when you were there?” Nancy said.
Cecelia shook her head, then giggled. “It’s funny — you sound just like a detective.”
“I know,” Nancy said. “I am.”
But Cecelia didn’t seem to hear and went right on. “You know the same thing happened to me at my wedding only it was completely different.” She put the little dog in her lap and thought for a moment. “I was so nervous, I went to the wrong church. And there was a wedding going on in there, too. So I strolled down the aisle. Can you believe it? I came this close to marrying a man I didn’t even know.”
Nancy decided to give up on this line of questioning.
“Well, thank you for your time anyway,” Nancy said.
Nancy, Bess, and George stood up to leave, but Cecelia stayed seated.
“I’ve got to tell you,” she said, “I feel terrible for that poor girl. I know what it’s like to start off a wedding on the wrong foot.”
“Thanks,” Nancy said. “I’m sure we’ll find the veil.”
“I’m sure you will. What are you going to do next?” Cecelia asked.
“We’re going back to the church,” Bess said.
“Isn’t there something I can do to help?”
Nancy tried to think of a polite way to decline Cecelia’s offer, but she took too long.
“Now see if this doesn’t sound like a good plan,” Cecelia said. “I’ll put on my thinking cap and try to remember anything suspicious. And if I do, I’ll meet you at the church in two hours.
Cecelia showed them to the front door, talking non-stop every step of the way. “It’ll take me that long to explain to Licorice why I’m going out without him. He’s very protective. My husband goes off and leaves me alone every day — of course, he has a job and Licorice doesn’t.”
Outside, the three girls were happy to be out in the sunlight — and away from the chattering Cecelia Bancroft.
“I wonder what her thinking cap looks like,” George said, giggling.
“She’s very friendly, which is more than I can say for her dog,” Bess said. But then she noticed that Nancy wasn’t listening to her.
Nancy was giving her full attention to a figure lurking behind a lamppost across the street. “That’s Tony Fiske,” Nancy said.
“You’re right,” George replied. “What’s he doing here?” Bess said.
That was exactly what Nancy wanted to know. Was he following them? Not likely. Tony didn’t even know who they were. Was he there by coincidence? Or had he come to see Cecelia?
Just then, Tony moved sideways a little and looked directly at Cecelia’s front steps. Nancy froze for an instant, waiting to see what he would do. He didn’t seem to recognize her at all. Instead he casually lifted the lid of a heavy metal garbage can near the curb and tossed an empty soda can inside.
Nancy ran quickly down the steps and started across the street.
“Tony Fiske?” she called.
At the sound of his name, Tony stepped into the street. He waited a second — until Nancy drew closer — and then he reached behind him. With one swift motion Tony Fiske sent the trash can rolling dangerously in Nancy’s path!
The Clue in the Church
As a surprised Nancy tried to dodge the trash can, Tony Fiske took off, running like a rocket down the cobblestone street. She managed to sidestep the rolling can, but she tripped over the lid and fell, skinning her hands on the pavement.
By the time Bess and George reached her, Tony was at the corner of Chestnut Street, crossing the street diagonally. He’s getting away, Nancy thought as she dashed into the street, ignoring the oncoming traffic. A car horn blared at her as its tires squealed to a stop. She gave the driver a quick backward look of apology as she ran on. But a bus had pulled up near the curb, blocking the sidewalk. When Nancy finally wove her way through the jumble of vehicles, Tony was gone.
“He got away,” Nancy said. She was completely out of breath when Bess and George caught up with her.
“I wonder what he was doing here? I mean, outside Cecelia’s house?” Bess asked.
“Maybe following us…“ George suggested.
“I don’t think he was following us,” Nancy said. “But if he was, we’ll see him again.”
“And next time,” George said, running her hand through her short hair, “we’ll be faster.”
On the way to the Park Road Church, the girls bought postcards and then stopped for a cold soda. As they drank their soft drinks, they wrote out their postcards to Nancy’s boyfriend, Ned Nickerson, who was a student at Emerson College.
“Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here,” wrote Nancy.
Bess wrote, “Nancy’s name has been linked with a Tony Fiske. Aren’t you dying?”
George’s note was the shortest of all: “Don’t believe Bess!”
Exactly at noon, they arrived at the Park Road Church, half expecting to see Cecelia’s white stretch limo parked outside. The parking spaces were empty, however.
Yesterday, the church had been cheerful and festive for Meredith’s wedding. But today it seemed as though the newlyweds had taken all the happiness with them when they left. Now the old stone church looked dark and gloomy. The stained-glass windows had been shuttered over from the inside, and so only narrow streaks of sunlight, like dusty stripes, fell across the wooden pews.
Slowly the three friends entered the church and walked from the door into the chapel.
“Looking for someone?” a voice asked in the dark. Footsteps approached. Then a familiar face came out of the shadows. It was Reverend Petry, the minister. He was a quiet but cheerful man in his fifties with silver hair and glasses. “I’m not really trying to create the atmosphere of Dracula’s castle,” he said, turning on a tall lamp that stood on the aisle. “I’m just trying to cut down on the electricity bill.”
“Reverend Petry, we were here yesterday,” George said, “for Meredith and Mark’s wedding.”
That made the minister smile. “I was afraid for a while that it wasn’t going to happen,” he said, grinning. “Too bad I don’t get paid for overtime. Well, have you come back because you left something behind?”
“No, we came back to look for the bride’s veil,” Bess said.
“But I understood that my wife stole that,” the minister teased.
“We’re trying to find out who really did steal it,” Nancy said.
Just then the front door opened with a bang. “Anybody home?” called out a woman’s voice from the doorway.
Nancy turned. “Uh-oh, bad news,” she murmured to her friends as she recognized the soft blond hair. “Cecelia Bancroft decided to show up after all.”
“Hello, ladies,” she said with a wave. She came forward into the aisle and held her hand out to Reverend Petry. “Hello. Cecelia Bancroft.”
“Roger Petry,” the minister said, shaking her hand.
“It’s a tad gloomy around here, don’t you think?” asked Cecelia.
Reverend Petry cleared his throat. “Well, the Sunday morning services are over,” he said.
“Reverend Petry, would it be all right if we looked around the second floor of the church?” Nancy asked.
“Sure,” said the minister. “Though I doubt you’ll find the veil.”
Nancy didn’t hold out much hope for it either. In fact, she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. At the very least, she hoped she might find out how the red-haired woman had disappeared so fast — and how someone had gotten in and out of the dressing room without being noticed. At most, she hoped for a clue to the thieves’ identities.
Cecelia and the three girls went up the dark staircase to the second floor, and had been searching in the long, narrow hallway for only a minute when Cecelia cried out, “Look at this!” She was holding something in her hand.
“What is it?” asked Bess, who was shining a penlight on a nearby section of the hallway.
“A penny,” Cecelia said. “Things are looking up.” She handed it to Bess. “You can put it in the collection box.”
Nancy sighed and walked back down the dark hallway from the dressing room to the broom closet. This time she opened all the other doors along the way. Closet. Orifice. Storage room. Main stairway — no, door. Office. Fuse box with circuits. Another stairway. And finally the broom closet Meredith had been led to.
Nancy stepped back to the door before the broom closet.
“This is how the woman with the red hair disappeared so fast,” Nancy announced. “She must have known about this other stairway. She ran down the steps while Meredith’s back was turned.”
“But who took the veil? And how did that person get away?” Bess asked.
“I don’t know,” Nancy said.
“I’ll check out this other stairway,” George volunteered. Cecelia went with her.
Nancy stayed in the main hallway because the beam of her flashlight had caught something in its light. She walked over to the storage closet door and stooped to pick up her discovery.
“Find something?” asked a voice behind her. Nancy jumped.
“Bess,” Nancy said, “make more noise, will you?”
“Sorry about that, Nancy,” Bess said. “What is that?”
Nancy stood up and opened her palm. In it was a flower, fading and dry. “It’s probably from Meredith’s bouquet.”
“Is that a clue?” Bess asked.
“I don’t know,” said Nancy. “I doubt it.”
“Hey!” George shouted.
Nancy and Bess could hear her footsteps as she came running up the back stairway and into the hall. Cecelia followed.
“Nancy, Cecelia found something on the stairs,” George said.
Cecelia held a thin, rectangular slip of paper. The three girls crowded around to read it in Nancy’s flashlight.
“It’s part of an airline ticket,” Bess said.
Nancy was too busy reading the handwritten information on the ticket to say anything.
“The passenger’s name is Markella Smith,” Nancy said finally. “She flew from Denver to Boston yesterday.”
“Look at that!” George said. “She arrived just three hours before Meredith’s wedding.”
“And she’s scheduled to fly back to Denver tonight!” Nancy said. Her mind was racing. The ticket had been issued yesterday. That meant it had to be dropped there either yesterday or today.
“Let’s say that Markella Smith has red hair,” Nancy mused aloud. “Yesterday, she flies from Denver to Boston. She comes to this church. We know she couldn’t have done this alone. So, she and her accomplice sneak up this back stairway together, and wait.”
“She tricks Meredith into leaving the room,” George added.
“Right,” Nancy agreed. “And her accomplice is already hiding in that office — down the hall.” Nancy pointed to the office near the dressing room. “When Meredith leaves, the accomplice sneaks into the dressing room and takes the veil. Then he or she sneaks back into the office and waits till the coast is clear to sneak out of the church.”
“Meanwhile, Markella Smith has already gone down the back stairway,” George added.
“But she lost a page of her ticket while she was waiting there,” Bess chimed in.
“Whew!” Cecelia Bancroft whistled. “You girls are serious!”
“But why — that’s the question, isn’t it, Nancy? Why would Markella Smith want to steal Meredith’s wedding veil?” Bess asked.
“It’s the question, all right. And it’s a question only she can answer,” Nancy said, putting the ticket in her jeans pocket.
“What are you going to do?” Cecelia asked. “Fly to Denver?”
“If I have to,” Nancy said. “But first I’ll try calling her.”
“But that won’t help,” Cecelia interjected. “Markella Smith isn’t home yet. She’s flying back to Denver tonight, remember? Maybe you should go to the airport and catch her there.”
“Good idea,” Nancy admitted. “Thanks for your help, Cecelia.”
“Anytime. Too bad I can’t come along,” Cecelia said. “My husband and I are giving a dinner party tonight so I have to hurry home. But remember to let me know how things turn out.”
Cecelia left the Park Road Church first, and after thanking Reverend Petry, Nancy, Bess, and George followed.
“Well, we don’t have to be at the airport until this evening,” Bess said when they were alone on the sidewalk. “Let’s take a bus to Filene’s Basement — and spend some cash!”
Nancy had never been to Filene’s department store, but she had heard about it for weeks from Bess. As they walked through the revolving doors, Nancy saw that everything Bess had said was true. Filene’s was a normal department store from the ground floor up. But in the basement there Were racks and racks of famous designer clothing being sold at a fraction of the original price. The entire basement display area was packed from wall to wall with eager, shoving, no-nonsense bargain hunters.
“I think I’ll wait until after the fight is over,” George said, standing back by the elevator.
“They aren’t fighting,” Bess said. “They’re shopping! Let’s go!”
Bess took a deep breath and disappeared into the crowd.
With a laugh, George asked Nancy, “Think we’ll ever see her again?”
A few hours after the shopping spree, they dropped their packages off at the hotel and then went to pick up the rental car Nancy had arranged for shortly after leaving the church earlier that afternoon. Soon the three friends were headed for Boston’s Logan Airport. After parking their car, they checked the monitors for the number of the flight from Boston to Denver, and found that it was scheduled to depart from Gate 10. Then they settled into chairs just outside the security checkpoint to wait for Markella Smith.
The problem with this arrangement, Nancy soon realized, was that hundreds of passengers were going through security every hour. There was no way to know which ones were headed toward Gate 10 and which ones were headed toward the other nine gates in this section of the airport.
“If we could just go through security,” Bess said, “it would be better. Then we could wait in the area right near the gate.”
“Yes,” Nancy agreed, “but as the sign says —”
“— only ticketed passengers are permitted beyond this point,” George said, imitating the airport security people.
“We need a new plan,” Nancy said.
She got up and walked back to the ticket desk. “I’d like to find out if a passenger named Markella Smith has checked in yet,” Nancy said to the woman behind the desk, whose name tag said Ms. Palomino.
“I can’t give out that information,” Ms. Palomino explained.
“It’s very important that I talk with her,” said Nancy. “I missed her when she came in on Flight 320 yesterday morning.”
“No, you didn’t,” answered the woman.
Ms. Palomino’s remark caught Nancy by surprise, but she had a good reason for saying it. “Flight 320 was canceled yesterday,” she explained. “Maybe she came in on another airline.”
“Right,” Nancy said.
“Anything else, miss?” asked Ms. Palomino with an edge in her voice. There was a long line of people waiting behind Nancy.
“Yes,” Nancy said. “I’d like to buy a ticket to Denver. Can you give me the seat next to Markella Smith?”
Ms. Palomino sighed, but she tapped on her computer keyboard. Then she shook her head. “There isn’t anyone named Markella Smith on the passenger roster. Believe it or not, there’s not a single Smith listed on the flight.”
“Are there any other flights to Denver?” Nancy asked.
“Not tonight,” said Ms. Palomino.
George and Bess were clearly disappointed when Nancy reported that it was time to go back to the hotel.
“But we didn’t learn anything,” Bess exclaimed.
“This mystery seems to have fizzled out,” George agreed.
“Not for me,” Nancy said.
To Nancy, the fact that Markella Smith didn’ show up at the airport made the whole thing even more mysterious. Did this mean Markella Smith was still in Boston? And who was Markella Smith anyway? Had she been invited to the wedding? And if so, as a friend of the bride’s or the groom’s? Or was she a stranger — a stranger who for some reason was interested in Meredith’s veil?
“Tomorrow we should find out if Markella Smith was on the guest list,” Nancy said as George drove through the exit at Logan Airport.
But George wasn’t paying any attention to her. Her mind was on the road.
“Nancy, it’s so dark,” George said. “Does it look to you like our right headlight is out?”
“Pull over and I’ll check,” Nancy volunteered.
“No — don’t pull over,” Bess said sharply. “Please, don’t stop!”
By then, George was almost on the highway. Nancy started to turn around, to find out why Bess was upset. But Bess leaned forward from the backseat and grabbed Nancy’s arm so tightly that Nancy almost cried out. Nancy turned a little and looked into her friend’s frightened face. “What is it?” Nancy asked. Bess held her breath.
“Don’t look now,” she whispered, “but we’re not alone. We’re being followed!”
Blackout!
Nancy looked out the back window of the car. “Who’s following us?” she asked.
“Don’t you see that silver car? It followed us all around the airport parking lot,” Bess said. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
George checked the rearview mirror and the side mirrors.
“Which silver car?” George said. “The one next to us, the one in front of us, or the one in back?”
“I can’t tell now,” said Bess. “There’s too much traffic.”
“Well, there’s one way to find out if Bess is right,” Nancy said. “Quick, George. Take the next exit.”
George jerked the steering wheel to the right. Their rental car jumped from the middle lane to the exit lane, knifing in front of several cars. Surprised drivers blasted their horns.
“Now everyone thinks I’m a lousy driver,” George said.
“Maybe,” Nancy said, watching a sleek silver car behind them make the same fast maneuver. “But now we know Bess is right.”
“I knew it!” Bess said triumphantly. Then she shuddered. “At times like this, I hate to be right.”
“Okay, fasten your seat belts for takeoff,” George said. She stepped on the gas.
George got off the highway and made several fast turns, trying to lose the silver car behind them. Soon the girls found themselves on a narrow dirt road. Nancy glanced backward. The silver car was still behind them.
“He’s pretty smart. He’s got his high beams on so we can’t see his face,” Nancy said. “And there’s no license plate on the front of the car.”
“What do you bet it’s Tony Fiske?” Bess said. “I’m not making any more bets with you,” Nancy said with a smile. “Besides, Tony doesn’t own a car. Remember? Meredith told us yesterday in the church.”
“But we don’t own a car either — not in Massachusetts, anyway,” Bess said. “We rented one — remember?”
“Good point,” Nancy said.
Their car sped onto a dark, two-lane road that dipped and twisted. They passed small farms. George’s lips were pressed tightly together, and she drove with both hands gripping the wheel. Nancy looked back at the silver car.
“He could catch us if he wanted to. But he’s hanging back,” Nancy said. “Maybe he wants to see where we’re going.”
“Where are we going?” asked Bess.
“I don’t know,” George said.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” cried Bess. “You’re the driver!”
“But I’ve been trying to lose this guy,” George said. “I haven’t been watching the road signs.”
“Relax. We’ll come to asign soon,” Nancy said.
“Maybe it’ll say River Heights,” Bess said, trying to hide her fear with a joke.
But George didn’t laugh. “I hope it says Gasoline,” she said pointedly.
Nancy and Bess looked at the needle. It registered E, for empty.
How many things could go wrong at once? Nancy thought with frustration. They were lost, traveling down a dark two-lane road. An unknown driver was following them, and they were about to run out of gas.
Just then a sign appeared announcing that the next city was only two miles away.
“Wait!” Bess said when she saw the name of the town on the sign. “Are you sure we want to go to Salem, Massachusetts? That’s where they burned witches at the stake.”
“That was three hundred years ago, Bess,” Nancy replied. “Besides, we’ve got to find a gas station. Keep driving, George, there’s bound to be one ahead.”