Dare to read: Нэнси Дрю и Братья Харди
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ПРИЯТНОГО ЧТЕНИЯ!
Carolyn Keene
Nancy Drew Girl Detective: Volume Twenty
Getting Burned
Copyright, 2006, by Simon & Schuster, Inc
Good news or bad news first?
Here’s the bad: The animal shelter where I volunteer just burned down, which left a lot of displaced orphaned animals. It also means a big case for me, because I just don’t buy the story that it was the result of “bad wires.”
The good news is that my friends and I are working on a concert to raise funds to rebuild the shelter—and it’s going to rock. Strange people keep joining the volunteer staff and someone’s trying to foil our plans, but all I can say is they picked the wrong gal to mess with. The animal shelter is close to my heart—and so is putting criminals behind bars.
Let me introduce myself. I’m Nancy Drew.
My friends call me Nancy. My enemies call me a lot of other things, like “that girl who cooked my goose.” They actually sometimes speak like that, but what can you expect from criminals? See, I’m a detective. Well, not really. I mean, I don’t have a license or anything. I don’t carry a badge or a gun, in part because I wouldn’t touch a gun even if I could, and also because I’m just not old enough. But I am old enough to know when something isn’t right, when somebody’s getting an unfair deal, when someone’s done something they shouldn’t do. And I know how to stop them, catch them, and get them into the hands of the law, where they belong. I take those things seriously, and I’m almost never wrong.
My best friends, Bess and George, might not totally agree with me. They tell me I’m wrong a lot, and that they have to cover for me all of the time just to make me look good. Bess would tell you I dress badly. I call it casual. George would tell you I’m not focused. By that she’d mean that once again I forgot to fill my car with gas or bring enough money to buy lunch. But they both know I’m always focused when it comes to crime. Always.
Nancy Drew
The Creepy Cloaked Thief
Ned and I ran through the streets of downtown River Heights. Our footsteps pounded in my ears like violent drumbeats.
“I think he went this way,” I called as I turned left down Sixth Street.
“Right behind you,” Ned replied.
As I searched I cursed myself for falling asleep while staking out Olde River Jewelers. If the sound of shattering glass hadn’t woken me up a few minutes before, I might have missed the thief completely. Now the slimeball had a lead, but I wasn’t about to let him get away. He couldn’t have gotten far. I still heard his raspy breathing, after all.
Following the sound, we looped around a large, old warehouse and ended up back on River Street where we’d started—except that now all the buildings were draped in a cool and foggy mist. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was twelve o’clock. This struck me as odd. It didn’t seem like noon or midnight. Looking more closely, I realized that the hands were frozen. My watch had stopped, leaving me with no idea of the time. Through the eerie half-light I could tell that the shops on River Street were closed. I figured it was pretty early in the morning.
With the entire world asleep, it was almost peaceful. It would have been romantic, too, if Ned and I weren’t chasing a violent criminal.
Let me back up and explain. My name is Nancy Drew, and I’m an amateur detective. I solve mysteries here in my hometown of River Heights, and sometimes beyond. I would call myself a detective, plain and simple, but it’s not like I’m licensed or anything. I’m just the type of person who likes helping others out whenever I can. And since I happen to live in a town where corruption grows faster than the weeds, my help usually involves solving mysteries. I’m very good at it too—maybe because I’m a natural, or maybe because I get so much practice. It’s probably a combination of those two factors. The how and why doesn’t really matter, I suppose. Solving mysteries is just what I do.
This particular slimeball had been on a crime spree for months, breaking into places all over town. He’d already robbed four homes on Bluff Street, the First Bank of River Heights, and two antique stores, making off with lots of cash and some valuable old silver. He’d even broken into my friend Harold Safer’s cheese shop and taken an entire shipment of award-winning French Brie. (I know. I was thinking the same thing: awards for cheese? Apparently they do exist, though.)
I had a hunch that he’d be striking the jewelry store next, so I was on a stakeout. My boyfriend insisted on tagging along, not that I minded. Ned Nickerson is the greatest—smart, sweet, and supportive. We’ve been together since practically forever, and he’s always there for me when I need him. Plus, he’s got beautiful, twinkling brown eyes, soft, floppy dark hair, and a smile that makes my knees go weak—figuratively speaking, of course. I mean, who could catch criminals with weak knees?
Just then I spotted the creep. It wasn’t easy. He was wearing a heavy, black, hooded robe that blended into the dark shadows cast by the surrounding buildings. We followed him down a narrow alley, and I soon found myself in a part of town that I wasn’t so familiar with.
It smelled like rotten food, and everything was damp. I was heading downhill, and moments later I was splashing through murky puddles. Before long, my sneakers and socks were soaked through. Turning another corner, I heard some squealing and whipped around in time to see a small, furry thing dart behind a pile of bricks.
A rat—yuck!
What was this place? I turned around, thinking I’d ask Ned if he’d been here before. But there was no Ned, and no sign of him. It was like he’d vanished into thin air.
The tall buildings towered overhead. They seemed to be closing in on me. I felt the skin on the back of my neck prickle. My hands started shaking a little too. This was getting eerie. River Heights doesn’t have buildings this tall.
When I heard the clatter of trash cans—too loud to have been another rat—I spun around. Then, swallowing my fear, I hurried toward the sound. A ripple of black cloak disappeared around the corner.
That’s when I realized it was time to call in the big guns. (Actually, the only guns, since I don’t carry one myself and never would.)
Reaching into my pocket, I carefully pulled out my cell phone. I called the River Heights Police Department, which was on my speed dial.
“Chief McGinnis, please,” I whispered to Tonya Ward, the police department receptionist.
“Nancy, is that you?” Tonya asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “This is an emergency, so can you please put me through?”
“Right away,” she said before transferring me over to her boss.
“Hello?” said a very gruff chief of police.
I guess he’d been tipped off that it was me calling. See, I’m not exactly his favorite person. Chief McGinnis thinks that mystery solving should be left to the professionals. It’s not that I don’t trust the police department. It’s just that there’s plenty of crime to go around for everyone—unfortunately. So I try to pick up the slack. “I found your jewel thief,” I told him.
After grunting impatiently he asked, “What jewel thief?”
“You’ll see. Know the back alleys behind River Street?”
“Yes,” said Chief McGinnis.
“Meet me there as soon as you can, and bring backup.”
“Well you’ve sure got a lot of—,” Chief McGinnis began. He was probably going to say nerve, but I’ll never know for sure since I hung up on him. There wasn’t any time to waste. I had to keep my eyes on the thief.
Creeping around one of the brick buildings, I saw his black hood poking out from behind a tall stack of tires. He thought he was hiding, I guess. If I stayed quiet and close, he probably wouldn’t move.
But what about when he heard police sirens? Surely he’d run. I had to come up with a way to keep him in one place. Glancing around the alley for something to use, I saw nothing but a bunch of garbage and some old car parts. There was a stack of bricks against the wall, and also, just an arm’s length away, a second pile of tires—tires that could be useful.
I carefully lifted one from the top of the pile, thinking I’d drop it over his head so he’d be easier to catch. I moved slowly, easing the tire up on one shoulder and creeping over to where the crook was crouched. I lifted the tire over my head, and then, holding my breath, I began to lower it. In just another second I’d...
“AHH!” I screamed, feeling a cold hand on my shoulder.
The tire fell to the ground, landing on my foot. “Ouch!” Spinning around, I found myself face-to-face with a very stunned Ned.
“Sorry, Nancy!” he said.
I was sorry too, because now the thief was on the run again. I tore after him through the alley.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Ned said as he followed.
“No problem,” I replied, pumping my arms harder. Picking up the pace, I leaped over a dented trash can, only to land ankle deep in another puddle.
“The cops are on their way,” I called, still running. My feet slid around in my soaking wet shoes and socks. “We’ve just got to keep him close.”
“I’m right behind you,” said Ned.
“Where did you go before?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “I’ve been here all along.”
It wasn’t true, but this was no time to argue. I had a thief to catch.
Moments later, we all ended up at a dead end. The thief was cornered. I heard sirens in the distance—finally. As I kept my eye on him, Ned whipped out his cell phone, called the police, and told them exactly where we were. I just hoped they found us soon.
“So who are you, anyway?” I asked. Sure, I was curious, but I was also trying to distract him. Too much silence could leave him time to think up an escape plan, and I wasn’t about to let the guy get away.
The slimeball pulled off his hood, revealing a pale face, a mess of stringy white hair, and black eyes that were as lifeless as two marbles. His cold gaze was unwavering, and his mouth was set in a severe, straight line. He clutched a brown paper sack, tightly—the jewels, I figured.
Chills ran up and down my spine. Suddenly it felt like the temperature had dropped by about twenty degrees. Something about this guy wasn’t normal. And I know this sounds crazy, but it’s true: He didn’t seem human.
When the first cop car screeched around the corner and sped toward us, I was so relieved. Another case wrapped up—or so I thought. Suddenly the thief threw the bag of jewels at me and flew away.
Huh? I blinked and gazed toward the sky. The guy was flying high, his dark cape rippling as he soared through the air. Seconds later, he disappeared into the early morning light. I’ve seen weird things in my life, but this was on a whole different level. This was in a whole different realm.
“What happened? How did he do that?” I asked Ned, who just shook his head, speechless.
Another cop car pulled up next to me, and Chief McGinnis, all six feet of him, stepped out. “Nancy Drew,” he said, and not kindly.
“You’re a few seconds too late,” I said, handing over the bag of jewels. “The thief was just here.”
“Sure he was,” said the police chief.
“He—you’re not going to believe this, but the guy flew away.” I felt ridiculous for saying so, but I was only being honest.
Chief McGinnis scrunched up his bushy eyebrows. “You’re right,” he said as he tossed the jewels to another officer. “I don’t believe it.”
“Well, fine,” I said. “But—”
Chief McGinnis didn’t let me finish my thought. Instead, he grabbed my arm, twisted it behind my back, and slapped a pair of handcuffs on my wrist. “You have the right to remain silent,” he began as he secured my other wrist. As if! “What are you doing?” I asked, struggling in vain. “This isn’t funny. The real criminal is getting away.”
“The real criminal has been getting away for a long time now,” said the chief. “But I’ve finally caught you.”
“That’s crazy,” I cried. “You’re making a huge mistake.”
The chief shook his head. “You had a great cover with this amateur detective business, Nancy. You really had us going there for a while.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Think about it,” said the chief. “Whenever there’s a crime, you’re always involved somehow. And it’s not just here in River Heights, either. You go to Costa Rica, and some endangered birds are almost smuggled out of the country. You visit a friend in Key Largo, and suddenly someone’s sunken treasure is at risk. Music students get kidnapped, and keys turn up hidden in old clocks, all under your watch.”
“But everything always works out,” I said. “I solved those mysteries.”
Chief McGinnis snorted. “That doesn’t change the fact that wherever you go, Nancy Drew, bad stuff happens.”
I struggled to break free and quickly learned something about handcuffs: They hurt—a lot, especially when you’re trying to get out of them. The more I pushed against them, the tighter they squeezed.
Turning to Ned, who seemed almost as stunned as I did, I said, “Tell him. Tell him there was a thief—and that he flew away...” I stopped talking because by that point, even I realized how crazy it sounded. I didn’t want the entire police force to think I was a raving lunatic, even though I was telling the truth.
Ned had this strange expression on his face. His mouth kept opening and closing, like he was struggling to speak, but he kept choking on his words. It was as if he had no voice. Our eyes met. Mine widened, and his did too.
The sirens were getting louder. More cop cars were speeding toward me. Officers in navy blue were surrounding me, staring me down. There were so many of them that their faces blurred, and they were treating me like a dangerous criminal.
What was happening?
The sirens grew louder and louder still. It was like they were blaring right in my ear.
I squeezed my eyes shut, tightly. This couldn’t actually be happening. No way could it be real.
Opening my eyes, I found myself in darkness. Where had the time gone? Had they thrown me in solitary confinement? Did I black out? I blinked a few times so my eyes could adjust.
I found myself in my bedroom, which is when I realized I’d been dreaming. There was no creepy-cloaked, flying jewel thief. There was no line of police officers staring me down, and there were no handcuffs.
I sighed in relief, but then realized that there were still sirens going off. They were coming from somewhere nearby, and they seemed to be getting louder.
I glanced at my bedside clock and saw that it was five a.m.
Leaping out of bed, I ran to the window just in time to see three fire trucks racing by. They were heading toward the south side of town, where I saw billows and billows of heavy gray smoke.
Grabbing my jacket and car keys, I ran downstairs and outside. Once in my blue hybrid, I turned on the car and raced toward the smoke. Speeding through town, I had the worst feeling about where it was coming from. Still, I hoped that my premonition was wrong.
Ten minutes later, I was at the River Heights Animal Shelter, where I volunteer once a month. What used to be the animal shelter, I should say. Now the building was engulfed in flames.
A ring of firemen surrounded the mess. All were working hard to hose down the structure. The flames were high and fierce, seemingly relentless.
Thinking about the poor, defenseless animals inside, I cried out and ran toward the burning building. I didn’t give a thought to my own safety. All I could think about were those animals. I had to save them.
Up in Smoke
“Nancy, wait!”
I was just a few yards away from the entrance when someone grabbed my arm and stopped me from entering the burning building.
Turning around, I was surprised to see that it was Justine Tamworth, the executive director of the River Heights Animal Shelter. Justine was so crazy about cats and dogs, I’d have expected her to be leading the rescue effort. Yet here she was holding me back. I didn’t get it.
“But what about the animals?” I asked.
“It’s okay, they’re all gone,” Justine said.
I looked around and, sure enough, there wasn’t a dog or a cat in sight. The fire had already eaten its way through half the building. The firefighters were still trying to hose it down, but the water seemed to make the flames grow larger.
My heart sank. “Gone?” I cried. Straining my ears, I listened for barking dogs and screeching cats, but all I heard was the crackling fire. “How can you be sure? Maybe it’s not too late.”
“I mean they’re not here,” Justine explained as she pulled me away from the fire. “All of the animals were moved to the shelter in West River two days ago. There are none in that building.”
We’d been standing so close, my entire body felt overheated. Beads of sweat were forming above my eyebrows. But now, at a safe distance, we both watched as the flames danced wickedly in the early morning breeze. “That’s such a relief,” I said.
“Tell me about it,” Justine replied, her dark brown eyes crinkling in sadness as she watched the burning building.
“But why were the animals moved?” I asked.
“We were in the middle of having the building painted, and I was worried the fumes would be bad for them. Imagine if they were still in there.”
“It would have been the worst thing I’d ever seen,” I said.
We both shuddered at the thought.
Standing on the sidelines, I noticed that the scene was growing. When I’d first pulled up, I’d seen only the firefighters and then Justine. While we were talking, a few police cars had arrived. Some of my friends from River Heights had trickled in too. I recognized a few animal shelter employees and also some volunteers, but that wasn’t all. Joshua Andrews, a baker who’s famous for his banana bread, was there. So was Mrs. Diver, the music teacher, with wild, curly red hair—and Harold Safer. People kept coming. Ten minutes later, it seemed as if half the town were there.
As soon as Chief McGinnis strolled onto the scene, a pale guy dressed in running shorts and a T-shirt approached him. They shook hands and spoke for a while. The guy was short, with dark brown hair. I didn’t recognize him, and my curiosity was piqued. They spoke for a while, gesturing toward the burning building. Unfortunately I was too far away to hear what they were saying.
Minutes later, the firefighters put out the blaze for good. With the flames gone and the smoke clearing, all that was left at the scene was the building’s charred frame.
“Years of hard work down the drain,” Justine said with a sigh as she kicked at the dirt with her sneakers.
I could only imagine how heartbreaking this was for her. Justine is passionate about animals. She’d given up a successful career in investment banking in Paris to move to River Heights to attend veterinary school. Before she came along, the River Heights Animal Shelter was tiny and run-down, but Justine quickly changed that. Almost single-handedly she’d raised the money and supervised the construction of a brand-new, state-of-the-art facility. Thanks to Justine, our town’s strays have an excellent place to go—at least, they did until this morning.
“We’ll build a new one,” I said, resting my hand on her shoulder. “It’s horrible, yes, but at least none of the animals were harmed.”
“This is true, but I still can’t believe this is happening. That so many years of hard work are now gone, up in smoke.” Justine glanced at the cluster of firemen huddled nearby. “I’m going to talk to the firefighters. Maybe they’ll know what caused this.”
“Mind if I tag along?” I asked.
“Not at all,” she replied.
By the time we’d walked over to the group, which included Cody Cloud, the chief of the fire department, Chief McGinnis was there.
I hung back, behind Justine, figuring things would go more smoothly if I stayed out of Chief McGinnis’s line of vision.
“Excuse me,” she said, tapping Chief Cloud on the shoulder. “I’m Justine Tamworth, executive director of the River Heights Animal Shelter. What can you tell me about the fire?”
“Cody Cloud,” said the chief, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Nice to meet you, and I’m very sorry about your building. I only wish we’d gotten here sooner. Then we’d have been able to save more of the structure.”
“I’m just glad you got here before anyone was hurt,” said Justine. “No one was hurt, right?”
Chief Cloud shook his head. “Not a soul. It’s amazing luck that the animals had all been moved.”
“So what caused the fire? Do you have any idea?” Justine wondered.
“It’s hard to tell just yet. There are no obvious signs, but we’re thinking it’s a case of faulty wiring,” the fire chief replied.
Justine’s forehead wrinkled. “But that’s impossible,” she said. “I just had the entire place inspected, from top to bottom, by an excellent electrician. She certainly would have told me if there was a problem.”
“Sorry, Ms. Tamworth,” Chief McGinnis said. “I know this is a huge loss for you and the entire community, but accidents happen.” He was writing in his notebook and didn’t even look up at Justine when he spoke. “You know how these old buildings are.”
“Actually,” said Justine, “the building was kind of new. It was only built three years ago.”
The police chief smiled and said, “Then that must be the reason. You know they just don’t make things like they used to.”
“We’ll do a more thorough search, but I can’t promise you we’ll find anything,” Chief Cloud added.
“Ah, don’t bother,” said Chief McGinnis, closing his notebook and putting it in his back pocket. “This building was new, so obviously there was a design flaw of some sort. If you think the fire was caused by faulty wiring, then I’m sure that’s what it was.”
That’s exactly the kind of thing that drives me crazy about Chief McGinnis. Too often he takes the easiest explanation as fact, without really doing a thorough investigation. “But you’ve hardly done an inspection!” I cried.
Suddenly noticing me, Chief McGinnis smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, if it isn’t Nancy Drew,” he said.
I’d meant to let Justine handle this by herself, but it was too late now. I stepped around from behind her and said, “Surely an electrician would have found an electrical problem, especially since that’s what she was looking for in her inspection. Aren’t you at all suspicious?”
“No,” said Chief McGinnis. “Accidents happen. It’s a sad fact of life.” Yawning, he looked at his watch. “And I need to get going.”
“We’ll conduct a thorough investigation, Nancy,” said Chief Cloud. “Don’t you worry.”
I thanked the fire chief but turned back to Chief McGinnis and asked, “I was wondering, who was that guy you were talking to before? The one in the running shorts.”
Chief McGinnis said, “That was David Wells, the guy who called 911.”
“Why was he out here so early?” I wondered.
“He was out jogging and saw smoke. Good thing, too. See that office park over there?” asked Chief McGinnis, pointing to a group of buildings in the distance. “That’s part of Rackham Industries. Imagine if the fire had spread to there—to the biggest employer in all of River Heights. Now that would have been truly horrible.”
“It’s truly horrible now,” I said. “And I still think there’s more to the story.”
Chief McGinnis rolled his eyes. Pointing at me, he said to Justine, “Don’t let this one fill your head with ideas of scandal. You’ll only waste your time.”
I couldn’t believe this. “Come on,” I said. “Don’t tell me you’re not looking into this.”
Chief McGinnis stared down at me. “Look, Nancy. In all my years on the force, never have I had to answer to a young woman wearing pajamas with pink bunnies all over them, and I don’t intend to begin now.”
I felt my face burn red. I didn’t need to look at my outfit to realize what Chief McGinnis was talking about. I just wish I’d noticed it sooner. I was in such a hurry to get to the fire this morning that I hadn’t bothered to change. I was plenty mad at the chief of police, but I was also embarrassed. It figures that while all of my other, regular pajamas are perfectly respectable, I just happened to be wearing the pink bunny ones on the day that the entire town saw me. Dad got them for me for Christmas last year, and I hardly ever wear them. Seriously, I don’t.
As Chief McGinnis walked away, Chief Cloud told me and Justine that we could check in with him later in the afternoon.
“Do you have any other theories?” I asked.
Chief Cloud tipped his hat back and scratched his forehead. “Too soon to say. We’ll keep investigating, but it’s not likely that we’ll find anything definitive,” he said.
“Thank you for trying,” said Justine, handing him her card. “This is my number. Please call day or night if you have news.”
“Will do,” said Chief Cloud. “Nice to meet you, Justine. Nancy, good to see you.”
As he strolled to his truck, I turned to Justine and said, “Sorry about that. It was wrong to question the police chief so blatantly. I just couldn’t help myself. It’s too soon to jump to conclusions, you know?”
Justine put her arm around my shoulders. “I’m not surprised by the police chief’s attitude, Nancy. That’s why it’s good that we have you around.”
“Well, I don’t care what Chief McGinnis says. I’m not going to let a pair of pink bunny rabbit pajamas stop me from investigating things further.”
Justine laughed. “Now that’s the Nancy Drew we all know and love. I’m going to meet with the shelter employees, but let’s talk later on today.”
“Sounds good,” I replied.
As Justine walked away, Harold Safer rushed over to me. “Isn’t it horrible, Nancy?” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “But at least the animals weren’t harmed.”
“But where will they go?” asked Harold. “The West River Shelter is tiny. They don’t have room to keep them all. And you know what happens at that shelter when it gets too crowded...”
Even though my body was still sweating from the heat of the fire, I suddenly felt my blood run cold. Harold raised an issue that hadn’t even occurred to me.
There are two types of animal shelters in the world: kill and no-kill. A no-kill shelter will keep animals for as long as it takes to place them. A kill shelter is one that will put animals to sleep after a certain amount of time. The length of time varies, depending on the shelter’s policy. It could be three months or three days. The River Heights Animal Shelter was very humane and strictly no-kill, of course. But as far as West River went, well, I didn’t know, and I was afraid to find out.
I shivered, then changed the subject. Remembering my dream from the night before, I asked, “Hey, Harold, is there such a thing as award-winning French cheese?”
“Of course,” he said, looking at me strangely.
“And do you ever worry about it getting stolen?”
Harold raised his hand to my forehead. “Are you feeling okay, Nancy? Are you sure you didn’t get too close to that fire?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “And don’t worry about the animals. We’ll come up with a solution.”
“Good,” said Harold. “I like your outfit, by the way. It’s good to see young people taking fashion risks.”
“Thanks,” I said, not realizing until it was too late that he was teasing me.
We both laughed. “See you later, Harold,” I said, waving.
“Always a pleasure, Nancy.”
I scanned the crowd for some sort of clue and noticed the pale guy in running shorts—the one Chief McGinnis told me had called 911.
I walked over to him, asking casually, “Crazy fire, huh?”
“Yup,” he said.
“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Nancy Drew.”
The guy offered his hand. “David Wells.”
“Do you live in River Heights?” I asked.
“Yes, I just moved here from New York City. I’m the vice president of new business development at Rackham Industries.”
“Chief McGinnis told me you discovered the fire,” I said.
“It’s true. I’m the one who called 911,” he explained.
“What were you doing out here?” I asked.
“Jogging,” he said, meeting my eyes with his cool, brown-eyed gaze. “I always jog early in the morning.
Suddenly I felt a strange sensation—chills running up and down my spine. Something wasn’t right. The problem was, I didn’t believe David. Sure, he was wearing jogging shorts and a T-shirt, but he was also wearing shiny brown loafers, which is a strange choice. Who goes jogging in loafers?
I didn’t question his footwear, but he answered me like he knew what I was thinking.
“I just moved here. Meaning, my stuff is still on the way. I had to get out and run, but my sneakers haven’t yet arrived.”
“Do you live nearby?” I asked. There were lots of beautiful places in River Heights to go running—the park, the country roads, the dirt path along the river—and this was not one of them.
Apparently, this was the wrong thing to ask. David Wells got really hostile. He narrowed his eyes and took a few steps back. “Look here, I don’t need to defend myself to you. I’ve done nothing wrong. I saved the day, in fact. Who are you, anyway?” he asked.
“I never said you did anything wrong,” I said, completely surprised by his quick change in attitude.
Suddenly I felt someone tap my shoulder. “Ms. Drew,” said a familiar voice.
Uh-oh. Gulping, I turned around and said, “Hi, Chief McGinnis.”
“Didn’t I ask you not to go poking your nose into other people’s business?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “But even if you had, I wouldn’t have listened. I’ve been volunteering at the shelter for ages, so technically, this is my business.”
“Last time I checked, harassing the innocent citizens of River Heights is illegal,” said Chief McGinnis. “If you don’t believe me, I can take you downtown and we can discuss it at the station.”
I couldn’t believe that Chief McGinnis was almost threatening to arrest me, like he had in my dream. What was going on?
“I wasn’t harassing David,” I said. “I was just asking him a few questions.”
“Actually,” David said, “it kind of felt like harassment.”
“I’m very sorry,” I insisted, holding my hands in the air as if to surrender. “Honestly, I didn’t mean it. I’m just trying to get as much information as I possibly can because I’m worried about the shelter. Um, welcome to River Heights.” I turned to leave, realizing I’d have to figure out some other time why David was so defensive. There had to be a reason, and I wasn’t going to get anywhere with Chief McGinnis watching my every move.
I went to find Justine, who was still talking to some of the shelter’s employees. After pulling her aside, I told her what happened.
Justine sighed. “I appreciate your help, Nancy, but I don’t want you to get in trouble with the police.”
“I’m not worried about that,” I said. “I just want to figure out how this fire started. You said you were having the building painted, right? Who was doing the painting?”
“Peter Sandover, of Peter Paints,” said Justine. “It’s a new business.”
“And he was painting the inside of the building?”
Justine nodded. “Yes.”
“Does that mean he had keys to the shelter?”
“Yes, he did,” said Justine. A worried look crossed over her face. “I hope I didn’t make a mistake. He seemed like a nice guy.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’m going to check it out, just to be safe. Do you have his phone number?” I asked.
“He gave me a flyer, which I left in my office in the shelter,” said Justine, frowning at the remains of the building. “I probably wrote it in my organizer, but that’s at home.”
“No big deal,” I said. “I can look it up. I’ll call you later.”
Justine said, “Thank you, Nancy. I really appreciate this.”
“Don’t thank me, yet. I haven’t done anything.”
“Well, you’re willing to look into the matter. That’s more than I can say for the police department in this town.”
Not wanting to bad-mouth the chief, which would have been too easy, I said good-bye and headed on home.
After showering, getting dressed, and shoving my bunny pajamas into the back corner of my pajama drawer, I turned on my computer so I could research David Wells. I checked the online archives of the River Heights Bugle first. Sure enough, there was an article about him in last week’s business section. He’d been hired to head the new business development team.
It was a pretty big job. Rackham Industries is one of the largest companies in the entire Midwest. Like David had mentioned, the article said he came from New York, where he was working at a big bank. Before that, he worked for an energy company in Houston, and before that, he was at Harvard Business School, where he graduated at the top of his class. There was a photo accompanying the article. In it, a slightly younger version of the David Wells I’d met that morning smiled brightly. All in all, there was nothing out of the ordinary about what I read, so I don’t know why the nagging feeling that something was awry persisted.
While I was online, I decided to look up Peter Paints, the company Justine had told me about. But there was no business by that name in River Heights, or in any of the surrounding towns. This was surprising, but not shocking. Sure, we’re in the twenty-first century, but not everyone is technologically adept.
I turned off my computer and checked the phone book. Strangely, I couldn’t find the name of Peter’s painting company or Peter Sandover anywhere. I called information and they didn’t have a listing either.
It got me thinking—sure, Justine said the company Peter Paints was brand new, but what if it didn’t actually exist at all?
Added Threats
Something didn’t add up—but it was too soon to tell what, exactly, it was. Later that day I was still thinking about the fire at the River Heights Animal Shelter, when I heard a knock at the front door.
I wasn’t at all surprised to find that Justine had come to visit. “I was just about to call you,” I told her. “Please come in.”
“Thank you, Nancy.” Justine walked inside. She looked tired and stressed, not that I could blame her. I was feeling the same way myself.
“Hannah just made some delicious iced tea. Can I get you a glass?” I asked.
“Did someone call my name?” Hannah asked as she bustled into the entryway, carrying a duster in one hand. Hannah Gruen works as our housekeeper, but she’s more like family. I’ve known her forever, and love her dearly. She takes excellent care of me and my dad.
When she saw Justine, her face clouded over with concern. “Oh hello, dear. I’m so sorry to hear about the fire. Such horrible news.”
“Thanks for the concern,” Justine replied with a sigh. “It’s a horrible thing, but I keep trying to get myself to look on the bright side. No one was hurt—human or animal.”
“That’s true,” said Hannah. “You know, my cousin’s nephew’s restaurant burned down years ago, and it turned out to be the best thing. He rebuilt it and tripled his business.”
Justine seemed too puzzled to respond, and I felt the need to step in and explain. “That’s one of the amazing things about Hannah. She never fails to have an anecdote at the ready for every single occasion.”
“It’s true,” said Hannah, smiling bashfully.
“And they’re always related to her distant family members too,” I added.
“Okeydokey,” said Hannah as she headed back toward the kitchen. “I’ll get that iced tea.”
“Thank you,” Justine and I said.
Once we were seated in the living room with our drinks, I told Justine that I couldn’t find any information about her painter.
“Oh, I’m not surprised,” said Justine. “The company is brand new. In fact, the owner, Peter Sandover, offered to paint the shelter for half price in order to help drum up business.”
“That’s a nice offer,” I said. “What was he doing before he started painting?”
“Oh, he told me that he’s been a painter for years, and that he used to work for a large company in Florida. He wanted to branch out on his own and figured River Heights would be a good spot, so he moved here a few weeks ago.”
“I’d love to speak to him,” I said. “Perhaps he saw something suspicious. Did you ever find his number?”
“I’m afraid not. I looked in my organizer, but for some reason, I don’t have it. Things have been so crazy. I guess I forgot to copy it down. It’s a shame that I only had one copy of the flyer, and now it’s gone—incinerated,” said Justine.
I frowned. “I searched online and called information, but he’s not listed.”
“Oh, right,” said Justine. “His landline wasn’t working yet, so he gave me his cell phone number.”
“That’s too bad,” I said.
“I know,” Justine replied. “I wish I could tell you more, but my life has been so hectic lately, I guess I haven’t been paying close attention. I’m in my last year of vet school and I have some really big exams coming up. It’s all I can do to get dressed in the morning, I’m so busy studying.”
“Well, don’t worry about this. I still might be able to track him down. Can you tell me what Peter Sandover looks like?”
“Sure,” said Justine. “He’s tall and pale, with scruffy, bleached-blond hair and green eyes. I’d guess he’s in his thirties.”
“How much had he painted?”
“Not much.” Justine took another sip of her iced tea and then set the glass on the coffee table. “He’d just started working two days ago.”
“And what was the rest of his crew like?”
“His crew?” Justine asked. “Actually, every time I went to check up on him, he was working alone. I thought that was a little strange, so I asked him about it. He told me he’d have more help next week.” Glancing at her watch, she added, “Oh, but I don’t want to keep your father waiting.”
“My father?” I said.
“Yes, there are some legal issues surrounding the shelter, and I need his help,” Justine explained.
My dad is one of the busiest lawyers in River Heights. Besides representing his regular corporate and individual clients, he does a lot of pro bono work, mainly for nonprofit organizations that wouldn’t ordinarily be able to afford legal assistance. Dad has been representing the animal shelter, free of charge, ever since Justine built it.
“The shelter’s having some sort of legal problems?” I asked.
“Now, Nancy,” I heard my dad say.
I turned around to find him standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrows raised.
“I’m just asking out of concern, Dad,” I said.
“I know, honey, but you have to respect my clients’ privacy, even when that client is a friend.”
Justine stood up and smoothed out her skirt. “It’s okay, Carson. I don’t mind letting Nancy know what’s going on. She’s been volunteering at the shelter for some time now, so this concerns her, too. In fact,” she said, turning to me, “do you want to join us?”
She didn’t need to ask twice. I stood up and followed them into Dad’s wood-paneled study.
“What seems to be the trouble?” Dad asked, once Justine and I had each settled into one of the two leather club chairs opposite his desk.
Justine sighed. “It’s Rackham Industries. As you know, they own all of the buildings and most of the land surrounding the River Heights Animal Shelter, but apparently that’s not enough for them. They want the shelter’s land, as well. They’ve made me many offers over the last few years, even though I’ve been quite clear that I have no intention of ever selling.”
Dad nodded as if he knew all about this. It was news to me, though.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“Well,” said Justine, “they just made me another offer this afternoon. And it’s one that I may not be able to refuse.”
“That’s crazy,” I said. “The fire was a huge setback, but you’re going to rebuild the shelter. No way would you ever sell that land.”
“Believe me,” said Justine, “I have no interest in selling. They know that better than anyone. This is the third offer they’ve made this month. The problem is, I don’t have the money to rebuild. And according to the zoning laws, as their team of lawyers just informed me, if I can’t rebuild the shelter, I must accept any reasonable offer of purchase for development.”
I looked to my dad, confused. He cleared his throat and explained. “In other words, if she doesn’t have immediate plans to develop the land, she’ll have no choice but to sell it.”
“That’s horrible,” I cried. “Dad, you can’t let this happen.”
“Settle down, Nancy,” said my dad. “You know I’m going to do everything that I can.” Turning to Justine, he added, “I’ll take another look at the zoning laws, but right now I have to tell you, it sounds as if the law is on their side. Justine, if you can’t come up with the money to rebuild, then you can’t hold on to the land.”
If I was suspicious before, now I was sure there was something fishy going on. “Isn’t it a little too convenient?” I asked. “I mean, that the fire just happened to burn down the building when Rackham has been trying to buy the land for years?”
“It is strange,” said my dad. “At the very least, I would say it’s extremely lucky for them.”
“Luck, or sabotage,” I mumbled to myself.
For some reason, Dad didn’t like this. “Nancy,” he said, “please don’t jump to conclusions. Not everyone in River Heights is corrupt, and without ample evidence, you can’t be so quick to accuse.”
“I’m not accusing anyone,” I said. “I’m just saying that it all seems a little suspicious. At the very least, it merits an investigation.”
“True,” said Dad. “But you must allow for the fact that sometimes there is no mystery, just bad luck.”
Okay, something was definitely up. Dad is usually proud of the fact that I solve mysteries. Of course he doesn’t like it when I do things that he thinks are dangerous, but he’s never so blatantly discouraged me from trying to help out. What’s more, he was a big supporter of the animal shelter, and he was thrilled that I volunteered there. He’s also a good friend of Justine’s. So, what was going on here?
“Don’t you want me to do everything I can to help?” I asked.
Rather than look at me, Dad started fiddling with the stapler on his desk. “To be honest, Nancy, I got a call from police headquarters a little while ago.”
“And?” I said.
He shifted in his seat before answering me. “Chief McGinnis asked me to have a talk with you.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. All I was doing was trying to help.”
“I believe that,” my dad replied. “Now, I’d never try to stop you from doing what’s right, and I know that you and the police chief don’t always see eye to eye, but I’d prefer you not to get in his way. He is the chief of police in this town, and he deserves respect.”
I leaned back in my chair, completely stunned. “I can’t believe he called you,” I said.
“I was surprised too,” my dad admitted. “And I defended you, of course. But please, do me a favor and try not to step on any toes.”
“I won’t,” I said. This was irritating and crazy, but I didn’t want to argue in front of Justine.
Dad turned to her and said, “Don’t worry. Rackham Industries is not going to get that land without a fight. I promise you that I’ll do everything in my power to keep it from happening.”
“Thank you, Carson,” said Justine as she stood up to leave. “How long do you think all of this will take?”
“Months, perhaps,” said my dad.
Justine sat back down again. “Oh, dear,” she said. “I was afraid of that. You see, West River only agreed to hold the animals for a week. They’re overcrowded as it is.”
“I’m sure you can work something out with them,” my dad said.
“Actually,” said Justine, “I’ve already spoken to them. They’ll give me an extra two weeks if they have to, but that’s it. And here’s the biggest problem: While the River Heights Animal Shelter is strictly no-kill, West River Shelter can’t make that promise.”
I felt chills travel up and down my spine. “What are you saying?” I asked.
Justine paused and took a deep breath. When she answered, her voice trembled. “The animals are safe for now. And if I can scrape together enough money quickly, we can at least come up with a temporary structure to house them before breaking ground on the actual building...”
“How much do you need?” I asked.
“Twenty thousand dollars, minimum,” Justine replied.
“That’s a lot of money. What happens if you don’t get it?” I asked.
Justine shook her head and wiped the dampness from her eyes.
No one said anything. No one needed to. We all knew how gruesome this could turn out to be.
When Monkeys Fly
This is heart wrenching,” said Justine as we left my dad’s office. Shoulders slumped, she shook her head. “I can’t believe that so many years of hard work have suddenly become meaningless, overnight. And all because of one fire and one little law.”
“It’s not fair. We can’t let Rackham take that property,” I said.
“It would be a disaster if they did, but I don’t know how we can stop them,” Justine replied sadly. “I’m going to run home and go over the shelter budget again, but I’m pretty sure that the money just isn’t there.”
As I walked Justine to her car, I realized what we could do. “If a lump sum of money is the only thing holding us back right now,” I said, “we should have a benefit concert.”
Justine turned to me and grinned. It was the first time I’d seen her smile all day. “I’m intrigued,” she said. “Tell me more.”
Biting my bottom lip, I looked over my shoulder. I didn’t want Dad getting upset with me. And, okay, he’d asked me not to meddle in the investigation of the fire—but he didn’t say anything about not helping the animal shelter. The reality was that I had to do something. There was no way I could just sit back and let the animals suffer some horrible fate. Dad would understand that.
“Well, there are tons of animal lovers in River Heights,” I explained. “Some of them have to be musicians. We can get a bunch of them together for a benefit concert. Mrs. Diver will help out, I’m almost sure of it. She was at the fire, so she knows how devastating it was. I’ll give her a call.”
“That’s a wonderful idea. Mrs. Diver adopted a cat from us a few months ago,” said Justine. “There’s only one problem. I’m behind on my studying. I don’t think I can organize a concert and pass my exams.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I said. “I’ll organize the entire thing. I love doing stuff like this.”
“Are you sure?” asked Justine. “It sounds like a lot of work.”
“I’m positive. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do. Well, besides finding out if that fire really was an accident—but there’s time for that, too.”
Justine laughed as she got into her car. “Thank you, Nancy, but be careful. I don’t want you getting into trouble—with your dad or with the police.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, waving good-bye as she pulled away from the curb.
Hurrying back into the house, I called my partners in anticrime: Bess Marvin and George Fayne, and, of course, Ned. They’d all heard about the fire. Everyone in town must know by now. But the news that Rackham Industries was trying to take the animal shelters land was a shock to all three. All of them wanted to help, and luckily they were all free to meet me for lunch that afternoon to hear my plan.
By the time I got to Susie’s Read & Feed, Bess and George were already sitting in a booth at the front of the café. Each had a tall glass of lemonade in front of them. By the way, Bess and George are first cousins who grew up together—and they’re my best friends. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said, sliding into the booth next to them.
“It’s my pleasure,” said Bess. “I just finished changing the oil in my car and fixing the engine in my dad’s, so I’m totally free for the rest of the day.”
George grinned and said, “I’ll bet she’s the only person in town to go from working under a car to changing into a pink sundress with a matching cardigan.”
I had to agree.
“You should learn a thing about style,” Bess argued jokingly as she surveyed George’s khaki pants and solid green T-shirt.
“I know everything I need to know,” George countered, “like that I should never go out in public in pajamas with bunny rabbits printed all over them.”
Leaning my elbows on the table, I covered my face with both hands and groaned. “You heard about that?”
“ Everyone’s heard about that,” said Bess. “But no one is surprised.”
This town is small, and people know me well. I get so focused on mysteries that I often forget about stuff like matching my clothes and brushing my hair. Luckily no one holds that sort of thing against me.
“So, how’s Justine doing?” asked George.
“She’s depressed, but hanging in there,” I said.
“I don’t blame her,” said George. “I biked to the shelter site this morning. There’s nothing left but ash and rubble.”
“Yeah, it’s grim,” I said.
Just then, Ned strolled into the café. Checking his watch, he asked, “Am I late?”
“You’re right on time,” I said.
“Good.” Smiling, he bent down to give me a kiss and then slid into the booth opposite me. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Well, as I mentioned on the phone, we need to raise a lot of money, fast, or the animal shelter—and perhaps the animals that were in it—will be history,” I began. “I was thinking of throwing a benefit concert. I already spoke with Mrs. Diver, and she loves the idea. She’s going to call a few of her more promising students to see if they’ll be willing to perform. We’ll make money off ticket sales, and we can set up a bake sale at intermission too. I’ll bet Joshua will donate a batch of banana bread for the cause.”
Joshua Andrews was a shelter volunteer, and he also owns the best bakery in River Heights. Usually he only bakes banana bread on Thursdays—but I had a hunch he’d make an exception for the cause.
“Ooh,” said Bess. “Last week I waited in line for an hour for a loaf. And it was totally worth it. Just thinking about that banana bread makes my mouth water.”
“Glad to hear your mouth is watering,” said Susie Lin, the café owner. She stood over us with her order pad in one hand and a pen poised in the other. “So, what will it be?”
After we all ordered lunch, Ned said, “I have a friend in the River Heights University Orchestra. I’ll bet he could convince the other musicians to perform.”
“Excellent,” I said. “Then we can—”
I was cut off rudely by none other than Deirdre Shannon, who’d just come into the café and was lingering by our table. “Ned Nickerson!” she exclaimed, taking off her sunglasses before giving Ned a hug.
Typical. While Deirdre can’t stand me or my friends, she’s always had a thing for Ned. She seems completely baffled by the fact that he’d rather date me, and she makes no pretense of hiding her feelings.
I had to give her credit, though. She is skilled in some ways. She somehow figured out how to flirt with Ned while turning her nose up at me, Bess, and George at the very same time.
Deirdre is my age and her dad is also a lawyer here in River Heights, but that’s about all we have in common. Most people would agree that Deirdre is a snob, and I wouldn’t argue with them. Her family has a lot of money, and she thinks that makes her better than everyone else.
Flinging her dark, curly hair over one shoulder and adjusting the strap of her designer purse, she said to Ned, “You should join me and my friend at the back. I’m having lunch with Langston Murphy. You know Langston—he lives in that huge house in Mission Hill.”
“Sure, I know him,” said Ned, not exactly impressed and more than a little uncomfortable.
“We have a better table,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder and batting her eyelashes. “And it would be much more fun if you were there.”
George rolled her eyes. Bess shook her head. I just sat there smiling up at Deirdre and acting like she didn’t bother me. Of course, that always seemed to annoy her even more.
“I’m okay here, thanks,” Ned replied, winking at me.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Positive.” He nodded. “We’re just discussing how to help out at the animal shelter. Did you hear that it burned down?”
Deirdre wrinkled her nose and said, “Yes, and good riddance.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say,” said George.
“Well, I’m sorry, but the entire place smelled like animals,” Deirdre replied.
“Is she serious?” George asked in a whisper.
I shrugged.
“Anyway,” said Deirdre, “I heard that none of the animals were hurt, and we don’t need a shelter here anyway. Anyone who wants a dog can get a pure breed from a breeder.”
“Why pay for a fancy, name-brand dog when there are so many adorable, unique stray mutts?” asked Bess.
“Because mutts are gross,” Deirdre said as she scrunched up her nose. “And they’re so common.”
Bess almost choked on her drink. George narrowed her eyes at Deirdre. “Do you mind letting us eat?” she asked.
“Sorry,” said Deirdre. “I should have just stayed at the country club for lunch. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
As she walked to her table, Susie came back with our food.
“Great,” said George. “I’m starving.” She took a huge bite of her turkey club sandwich.
I turned to my friends. “Now, where were we?” I asked.
George chewed and swallowed. “The concert is a good idea, but I was thinking... you know Nikki Kolista?”
“Of the Flying Monkeys?” I asked. “Of course. She’s the lead singer of the biggest band around.”
“Didn’t the last Flying Monkeys albums go platinum?” asked Bess.
“Yes,” said George. “Actually, all of their albums have. Nikki does solo stuff, too. And did you know that she’s from River Heights? And that she’s a big animal rights activist?”
Realizing where George was going with this, I grinned. “You don’t think she’d come here, do you?”
“Why not?” asked George, with a shrug of her shoulders. “There’s no way of knowing until we ask.”
Bess’s eyes widened. “People would come from all over the place to see a Nikki Kolista concert. Can you imagine how much money that would rake in?”
“With hope, it’ll be enough to save the shelter,” I said.
“But how are we going to get in touch with her?” asked Bess. “She’s a huge rock star.”
“I’ll bet I can find her agent’s information online,” said George. “Let’s go to my place after lunch.”
“Great,” I said, already feeling better.
As we were finishing up, Deirdre walked over to our table and said, “Ned, can you give me a ride home?”
Although he was halfway out the door, Deirdre’s friend Langston overheard and turned around. “I’ll take you home, Deirdre.”
“That’s okay,” said Deirdre. “My place is on the way to Ned’s.”
“It’s on the way to mine, too,” said Langston.
“I said I didn’t want a ride from you, Langston,” said Deirdre. “Good-bye.”
“Sorry,” said Langston, throwing up his hands and backing out of the café. “I’ll see you later.”
Bess and George both raised their eyebrows at me.
“Um, Deirdre,” said George, “didn’t you drive here?”
“Yes, but my car is making funny noises,” said Deirdre. “A lot of these new fancy models just aren’t that reliable. It’s crazy, since they look so good and they cost so much money, but—oh, well. I’m afraid that if I drive it anymore, it’ll break down.”
“I can take a look at it,” said Bess, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “What kinds of noises is it making?”
“Um, it’s hard to describe,” said Deirdre. “I’d much rather have a professional work on it. In fact, I already called the garage to come tow it. So what do you think, Ned?” She put her hand on his shoulder again. “It’s on your way, isn’t it?”
“He’s not going home,” said Bess. “We’re all going to George’s house.”
“Actually,” said Ned, “I promised my dad I’d help him cut down some trees after lunch. So I guess I will be heading home.”
“Perfect,” said Deirdre. “I’ll be waiting outside.”
Once she was gone, Ned pulled out his wallet and left some money on the table. Standing up, he shook his head. “Sorry about this, everyone.”
“It’s okay,” I said. It was, too. I wasn’t going to blame Ned for being too polite to refuse to help Deirdre, even if she didn’t really need help. It wasn’t his fault she was such a flirt. A few minutes later, we loaded George’s bike into the back of my car and then drove to her house, with Bess following in her car, close behind.
Once in her room, George pulled out one of her laptops and searched for Nikki’s information. In a matter of minutes she’d managed to track down a phone number for Nikki’s talent agent.
Bess called him up and explained the situation. The agent was nice, but he couldn’t give us Nikki’s phone number. He didn’t want to violate her privacy, which was understandable. Bess turned on the charm, though, and managed to get him to agree to give us her e-mail address.
We wrote to her right way, explaining about the fire and the animals over in West River and the Rackham Industries threat.
Then we played a couple of card games, just to kill time. We also listened to the latest Flying Monkeys CD for good luck. Nikki was incredible. Her voice was so powerful, and she was amazing on guitar.
I was getting ready to leave when George got a new message in her in-box.
Hey Nancy, Bess, and George,
Thank you for writing. Wow—I haven’t been back to River Heights in ages, and I can’t think of any better reason to come now than to help our town’s animals. You’ve caught me at a great time. My band is on break, and I have some new material I’ve been wanting to try out. Definitely count me in. You said you needed this done quickly, so how is Saturday night?
Talk to ya soon,
Nikki
Bess, George, and I looked from the screen to one another, too stunned at first to actually speak.
“The famous Nikki Kolista is actually coming to River Heights,” George said, still blinking at her computer screen.
“I can’t believe it,” I marveled.
Bess clapped her hands and jumped up and down. “This is the best news!” she exclaimed.
“The animals of River Heights will be saved,” I said.
All at once, we started to cheer and give one another hugs.
Rejoicing with my friends at that moment, I was filled with such hope. Everything seemed so bright. I had no idea that things were about to take a turn for the worse.