004 Smile and Say Murder

  “Yes, I’d like to speak to Ned Nickerson,” Nancy said, trying not to sound like herself.

  “Hold one moment,” Scott said. He hadn’t recognized her voice.

  The next voice Nancy heard was Ned’s. “Hello?” he said.

  “Hi, Ned, this is Nancy. Are you alone?”

  “Oh, wow, I’m so glad you finally called!” Ned exclaimed happily. “I’ve missed you so much. When can we get together and talk this thing out?”

  “Hold on. I’m not calling to make up, and I don’t want to hear the sordid details of your relationship with Sondra.”

  “What sordid details?” Ned cried. “All we did was—”

  “I don’t care.” Nancy cut Ned off. “I need to talk to you about something much more important.”

  “More important than us, Nancy? I don’t think that exists.”

  “Great. Butter me up, Ned Nickerson. Give me the whole dairy farm! It still doesn’t excuse what you’ve done to me—to us!”

  Ned sighed. “Please, let’s not fight again.”

  “Right. I don’t have time for it. We’ve got to meet. Stay at Flash. I’ll be over there as fast as it takes me to catch a taxi downtown.”

  “What’s up?” Ned asked.

  “I’ve solved the mystery!” Nancy announced. Suddenly she was full of energy and excitement again.

  “And you need my help to catch the person who’s responsible, right?”

  “Not person—people,” Nancy told Ned.

  “You mean there’s more than one?” Ned said, incredulous.

  “Yup, there are two! And you’ll never guess who!”

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  TWO, NANCY? WHO?” asked Ned.

  “Well, one of them’s David Bower.”

  “That’s no big surprise,” Ned said. “What about the second?”

  Nancy took a deep breath. “You’re not going to believe this, but—Yvonne Verdi!”

  “Yvonne? Nancy, that’s impossible. Yvonne’s the one they’re trying to kill!”

  “Nope, Yvonne’s the one they’re trying to make it seem as though they’re trying to kill. But really, Mick’s been the target of this scheme all along. I’ll explain the whole thing later. Just be at Flash when I get there.”

  “Okay, Nancy. I love—” But she had already hung up the telephone.

  Nancy dashed out of the hospital. She found a taxi right away and within seconds was shooting downtown, the driver dodging bikers and pedestrians. I hope Yvonne and David haven’t gone home yet. I hope I haven’t missed them! she thought.

  The ride to Flash took only fifteen minutes, but it felt like hours to Nancy. Wrapping up a mystery and catching the criminals was always hard, but this time an extra complication was going to make it even tougher.

  Oh, Ned, Nancy cried to herself, why did you have to leave me? Then her anger flared. How dare you leave me! And how am I ever going to keep my mind on my plan when I feel like this? Nancy nibbled nervously on the nail of her index finger.

  Nancy forced herself to think of the plan she was about to carry out—a plan which, if it worked, was going to nab her two attempted murderers. She’d have to play it cool and time things perfectly with Ned. Otherwise there was a good chance she would be the next victim!

  Suddenly Nancy called to the taxi driver, “Hey, stop here, in front of this Woolworth’s. Keep the meter running. I’ll be back in two minutes, okay?”

  “Fine with me,” the driver said, pulling up in front of the store.

  Nancy jumped out of the car and hurried into the store. She spent less than five minutes inside. When she ran back out she was clutching a small brown paper bag. “I think I just broke the shopper’s speed record,” she commented to the driver as she jumped into the taxi. As he peeled away from the curb, she stuffed the package into her shoulder bag.

  It didn’t take long to reach the Flash building. Nancy paid the driver and tumbled out of the car. Once again she rode the elevator upstairs. She glanced at her watch. It was just after five-thirty. Good, she thought. She was sure that at least one of the crooks was still there and the rest of the staff was probably gone, so they wouldn’t mess anything up.

  The elevator doors opened on the sixteenth floor, and Nancy stepped out. There was Ned— but he wasn’t alone! A yellow-haired figure stood next to him.

  Nancy marched angrily over to Ned. She was seething but she hid her feelings as best she could. “Hello,” she said evenly.

  “Sondra insisted on coming,” Ned told Nancy.

  “I want to help,” Sondra explained. “It’s the least I can do for the girl who saved my brother.” She gave Nancy a smile full of warmth and hope.

  Nancy was silent.

  “Nancy,” Ned said, moving closer to her, “I told you, it’s not the way you think it is. You’re supposed to be a detective. Please don’t jump to conclusions before you have all the facts!”

  Suddenly Sondra cut in. “Hold it, you two. You both sound ridiculous. Why don’t you try to communicate for real? First thing, Ned, is that you have to be more understanding of Nancy. She probably has good reason to feel a little jealous. But, Nancy, you haven’t let Ned explain a word! How’s he supposed to get through to you? I’m going to have to take charge here, or we’ll never catch the crooks we came for!”

  Sondra looked from Nancy to Ned and back.

  “Good. Now that you’ve both shut up long enough to listen, I’m going to set you two straight. Nancy, I didn’t steal your boyfriend, no matter what you think. I’ll admit at first I was really attracted to Ned. But that was before I found out you two’d been going out for so long. Ned’s really helped me recently, at a time when everything seemed to be going wrong. I appreciate it,” Sondra said simply. “He’s been a good friend to me, a close friend—and that’s all!

  “But, Ned,” Sondra continued, “I think you used me to get back at Nancy a little. You were mad at her for not spending enough time with you, and the fact that she got so jealous did wonders for your ego. Come on, you know it’s true!”

  “I refuse to admit a thing,” Ned said, but a tiny smile played at the corners of his lips.

  “It’s clear to me that you two love each other. But to tell you the truth, I don’t care about any of this,” Sondra said, “at least not right now. Because we’ve got some serious detective work to do. The three of us are just going to have to make up. Got it?”

  Nancy glanced at Sondra out of the corner of her eye. She had to admit Sondra knew how to get things done. If it had been up to me and Ned, the crooks would have gotten halfway to Acapulco before we even stopped fighting, Nancy said to herself. Nancy couldn’t help but admire Sondra. She’d really be okay—if only she’d stay away from Ned!

  “All right,” Nancy said at last. “Are Yvonne and David still here?”

  “Yvonne is,” Ned answered. “David went home an hour ago.”

  “That’s fine. Once we’ve gotten a confession out of Yvonne, David will be easy to nab.”

  “So where do we start?” Sondra wanted to know.

  “In the darkroom, across from Yvonne’s office. You two stay there. I’ll be with Yvonne. Give me fifteen minutes, then come out and make sure I’m okay.” Nancy reached into her shoulder bag. “Here, Ned, I have something to give you.” Then she pulled out a small pistol. She was holding it by the barrel.

  “Nancy!” Ned exclaimed. “What are you doing with that thing? You’ve never even touched one before, and neither have I! And what’s more, I don’t intend to start now. Throw it away!”

  Nancy giggled. “Good, I’m glad it’s so convincing. Ned, it’s a water pistol, and one of the most realistic I’ve ever seen. I bought it at Woolworth’s on the way over here. If I really do get in trouble with Yvonne, running into her office and yelling ‘Boo’ isn’t going to help. But a gun—or what she thinks is a gun—will!”

  Sondra laughed. “Catching a crook with a toy gun! My brother would really appreciate this!”

  Ned fro
wned, but pocketed the water pistol. “Nancy,” he said, “I think you have a few disconnected wires.”

  “It’s called improvising,” Nancy said with a smile. “You guys ready?”

  “Sure, I’ve got my plastic gun, haven’t I?” Ned joked. Then his expression changed to one of concern. “Nancy, be careful.”

  “I will. Don’t worry. Now come on.”

  Nancy, Ned, and Sondra sneaked quietly down the corridor to the darkroom off of Mick’s office. “How are we going to get in? It’s locked,” Sondra whispered.

  Nancy pulled out her credit card and gave Sondra a grin. In half a minute the door was open. “Okay, you two. Remember, fifteen minutes, just long enough for me to get the confession on tape. You’re my life insurance!”

  Ned and Sondra stepped into the darkroom and Nancy closed the door gently. Then she reached into her shoulder bag and pushed the record button on her tiny portable tapedeck. Walking across the hallway, she knocked softly on Yvonne’s office door. There was no answer, even after she knocked a second time.

  Finally Nancy pushed open the door. The publisher wasn’t there. Well, I’ll just have to wait for her, Nancy decided. She knew Yvonne hadn’t left for the day because her door was unlocked.

  Nancy closed the door and leaned thoughtfully against the leather couch. So Yvonne had turned out to be just as selfish and egotistical as she’d seemed to Nancy that first day. However, she also had an evil streak that Nancy hadn’t counted on. She hadn’t really cared about the magazine at all, just her own success and her wallet. She’d even been willing to kill off Mick, an old friend, when he’d gotten in the way.

  Nancy started pacing the room. Where was Yvonne, anyway? Nancy had told Ned and Sondra to appear in fifteen minutes. If Yvonne didn’t show up soon, the timing of the plan was going to be thrown off!

  All at once the door flew open and Nancy found herself face-to-face with the publisher. “Nancy!” Yvonne exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” She gave her a sugar-coated smile.

  Nancy smiled, too, just as falsely as Yvonne had. “I have great news,” she said. “I’ve discovered who’s to blame for the murder attempts!”

  “Oh, how wonderful,” Yvonne said. Nancy could tell from the tone of her voice that Yvonne didn’t think she’d been found out. “Sit down.” She ushered Nancy onto the black couch. “Tell me all about it.” Yvonne took her customary seat behind her desk.

  Nancy sat down coolly on the couch. “It was an interesting case,” she began, “very cleverly planned in the criminal’s mind. I almost didn’t crack it! But in the end I was able to, thanks to my partners—Agatha Christie, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and all the other fabulous mystery writers whose books I’ve read over the years.”

  A strange expression crossed Yvonne’s face. It took Nancy a moment to realize that the publisher was scared! And that’s the proof, Nancy decided. She knows I know the truth and she’s frightened!

  Nancy hurried on. “Yes,” she said, “I’ve gotten tons of ideas from books. And I’ve found that criminals sometimes get ideas from books, too.”

  Yvonne pursed her lips. “What does all this have to do with the problems at Flash?”

  Nancy wasn’t about to answer the publisher’s question—at least not yet. She smiled and asked, “What mystery writers do you like to read, Yvonne? I’ve just discovered a new one who’s very interesting to me. Ivan Green. Ever heard of him?”

  But Nancy hadn’t counted on what happened next. Suddenly she was staring into the gleaming barrel of a hand revolver—and Yvonne was smiling evilly at her from behind it.

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  DON’T MAKE A sound,” Yvonne said smoothly, not lowering the polished revolver, “or your face is going to be such a mess even plastic surgery won’t help.”

  “I won’t make a peep,” Nancy replied. She hoped Yvonne wasn’t trigger-happy. Otherwise she was going to be a memory before Ned and Sondra even had a chance to try the toy gun trick.

  “You’re smart, Nancy Drew,” Yvonne was saying. “Smarter than I counted on. I didn’t think you’d catch on to my little game. Well, it doesn’t make much difference now because, my young detective, you’re not careful enough!”

  Nancy glanced anxiously over her shoulder at the door. Where were Ned and Sondra? They should have been there already, plastic pistol blazing.

  “By the way,” Yvonne added cruelly, “someone left the door to the darkroom open. I made sure it was locked from the outside before I came in here.”

  Nancy sucked in her breath. Uh-oh. She was on her own. “What are you going to do with me?” she asked calmly.

  “In just a moment, I’m going to let you join your friends,” Yvonne told her gleefully. “Then I will simply dispose of you all. But before I do, I’d like to know how you guessed my secret. I thought I’d created the perfect crime.”

  “Even the best-planned crimes have flaws,” Nancy said. “Yours had a few. The most important one was that you lied to me.”

  “That’s only a flaw if I did it badly,” Yvonne cut in, “and I obviously did, since you found out the truth. Which lie are you talking about?” she asked.

  “The first day I met you,” Nancy continued, stalling for time, “you made a big deal about putting down mystery novels. Then Mick happened to mention that you loved them and had even written a few. I asked myself why you would lie about that to me. What did you have to hide? Then I remembered the copy of Deadly Potion, Deadly Bite that I’d seen in Mick’s office just after the tarantula appeared in your desk.”

  “You were supposed to remember it,” Yvonne commented sourly. “I planted it there to make Mick look guilty to you. I even stole one of his buttons, to make it absolutely clear.”

  “Right, but I realized later that the author, Ivan Green, was you.”

  “I see,” Yvonne said. “Then it wasn’t a flaw in my planning. It was just a silly coincidence—Mick mentioning that I wrote mysteries.”

  “Silly coincidences are a detective’s best friends,” Nancy said seriously. “I’ve rarely solved a mystery without one. But you did make one mistake. When I felt your pulse after you ‘fainted’ the day the gunman ‘broke into’ Flash, it was racing. So your body tipped me off to another lie—you weren’t really unconscious.”

  “You’re thorough,” Yvonne said disdainfully, “but clearly not thorough enough.” She glanced down at her gun with a satisfied smile.

  She’s so sure of herself, Nancy thought. She studied Yvonne’s face. I’ve got to get a full confession, she told herself. She needed undeniable evidence—just in case she managed to get out of this situation alive. The tape was running inside her bag. All she had to do was get Yvonne talking.

  “I have a few questions, too,” Nancy said after a moment. “How did you pull off the ‘shooting’ in your office? There’s no way you could have shot the gun, planted it in Mick’s office, and gotten back to your own office in the few seconds it took for us to run to your aid.”

  “It was a rather ingenious scheme, if I do say so myself,” Yvonne bragged. “I shot the bullet into the wall on Thursday, the night before the incident.”

  “That’s right,” Nancy said, suddenly understanding. “I saw your signature in the security guard’s book when I came in to Flash on Saturday. That explains why the bullet was so far off the mark. You weren’t aiming at any specific target! I figured no one was such a bad shot!”

  “Very good,” Yvonne said condescendingly. “Anyway, as you can guess, I also planted a gun in Mick’s desk that night. Then on Friday, I used a second gun to get everyone’s attention. I just shot out the window. Then I took it home with me since I knew you’d search my office. And I counted on your searching Mick’s, too.”

  “Well, things almost turned out just the way you wanted,” Nancy responded. “And now I’ve got one more question. Where does David fit into all this?”

  “David?” Yvonne smirked. “That wimp? He’s too stupid to pull off something like this. I wa
s just using him to get to the top people at MediaCorp. I did it all, Nancy Drew, with no help from anyone!”

  Well, I’ve got the confession, Nancy thought. Now if I can just get it and myself out of here. . . . But Yvonne was already standing up, holding a length of rope she’d obviously stashed in one of her desk drawers. Grinning nastily, she walked toward Nancy. Without taking either her eyes or her gun off the girl, she reached into Nancy’s shoulder bag and removed the tape recorder.

  “An old trick,” Yvonne said, triumphantly flicking off the record button and ejecting the cassette. “This one’s been used by mystery writers for a long time, too. Oh, well. I don’t care if the confession’s on tape—as long as I’ve got the tape.”

  Nancy swallowed hard. She hated being outsmarted.

  Yvonne pocketed the tape and nudged Nancy’s cheek with the gun. “Get moving, Detective. You’ve got a hot date—very hot, believe me.

  Nancy didn’t know what Yvonne was talking about, but she stood up and allowed Yvonne to direct her out of the office and toward the darkroom. Then the publisher reached into her pocket and handed Nancy the keys to the door. “Open it,” she said. Nancy unlocked the door and Yvonne shoved her inside.

  “Nancy!” Ned and Sondra shouted at once.

  “Hi, guys. I think we messed up,” Nancy said.

  “Are you all right?” Ned cried. “If she’s hurt you—”

  “I’m fine,” Nancy assured him. “Besides, there’s nothing you can do to her, so you might as well not make idle threats.”

  “Smart girl,” Yvonne said, obviously enjoying her power. “Okay, Nancy, you’re about to become my assistant. I want you to tie up your friends. This gun will be trained on you while you work, so no funny stuff. If the knots aren’t good and strong, the gun goes off. Got it?”

  “Yes,” Nancy muttered.

  Yvonne handed Nancy the rope, and the young detective got to work tying Ned’s hands behind his back. Yvonne watched over her shoulder, giving her directions and ordering her to pull tighter at every step. Nancy did her best to put a little slack into the knot, but when she was finished she had to admit that the knot wouldn’t be easy to untie.