Crosscurrents

  “Oh, Nancy . . . I’m sorry. I was just going to call you, but there’s so much to do here, I don’t know where to begin,” he babbled uneasily.

  From the pallor of his face and the strained look in his eyes, Nancy could see that he was upset. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Has another animal been—”

  “No,” he answered quickly. He gestured for Nancy and George to follow him into his office, where he collapsed into his desk chair. The two girls stood expectantly in front of his desk.

  “It’s worse than that—much, much worse,” Dr. Winston told them.

  Clasping his hands over his eyes, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I just got a call from the Maryland State Police. Annie is dead.”

  Chapter

  Five

  DEAD? Nancy couldn’t believe it.

  She exchanged a look with George, who seemed to be just as shocked as she was. “That’s terrible,” George murmured.

  “How did it happen?” Nancy asked.

  “I’m not sure of the details,” Dr. Winston replied sadly. “The police told me that they found her body in the bay near Bodkin Point. Annie owns—or, rather, owned—a small cottage there. They’re still searching for her boat. Apparently, she drowned.”

  After waiting a moment for Dr. Winston to compose himself, Nancy said, “I’d like to drive out to Annie’s place and look around.”

  Dr. Winston nodded. “I’ll have Jackson drive you. The cottage is a little hard to find, but we’ve been there a few times for barbecues.”

  Dr. Winston summoned his son. A few minutes later Nancy and George were on their way to the parking lot with Jackson. Suddenly, they heard someone shouting after them. “Nancy! Wait up!”

  Turning, Nancy spotted Chris dashing out the aquarium door and past the seal pool. By the time he caught up with them, he was out of breath. “Just heard about Annie. Dr. Winston told me you were driving out to her place, and I’d like to go. Someone from the task force should be on hand, especially since Annie was getting those threats.”

  Chris’s blue eyes seemed earnest, but Nancy wondered at his interest in visiting the scene of Annie’s death. Chris and Annie hadn’t exactly been friends.

  “I’m parked in the employee lot,” Jackson said, and the group continued on to the car.

  As they drove out of Baltimore, the mood in the car was somber. After a few minutes of cruising on Interstate 95 they turned onto a narrow highway and continued south to Bodkin Point. Nancy peered out the window as the tall buildings of the city gave way to the tree-lined streets of suburbs.

  As they drove, Nancy thought of the events leading up to Annie’s death. There were the anonymous threats, the incidents at the aquarium, Annie’s heated argument with Chris, and now this—a tragic drowning. It might be an accident. On the other hand, it could also be the work of someone who was serious about stopping the task force.

  “Did you hear anything about those porcupine fish yet?” Nancy asked Chris.

  He nodded. “We were right. Someone dumped chlorine—lots of it—into that tank. That’s what killed the fish.”

  Soon the houses were spaced farther apart, and the group passed some marshlands with tall swampgrass and low-lying water. They passed unpaved side roads that twisted down to small waterfront cottages.

  “We’re getting closer to the water,” Chris said, pointing over the dashboard. “You have to turn left onto one of these dirt roads.”

  Jackson jerked the wheel to avoid a rut in the road. “We turn left at Lenny’s Bait and Tackle,” he said. “I remember it from the last barbecue Annie invited us to.”

  They had driven three or four miles when Nancy spotted the weathered wooden sign marking Lenny’s. “There it is.” The wheels spun as they turned onto the dirt road beside Lenny’s ramshackle wooden shack. Nancy noticed that the bait shop backed up to the water, where there was a tiny marina housing a handful of boats.

  Slowing the car, Jackson followed a curve in the road. The minute they rounded the bend, Nancy knew they had arrived.

  Two Maryland State Police cars and one county police car were parked on the grass in front of the small cedar-sided cottage. A large police van with the words Scuba Team painted on the side panel was parked in the dirt road, along with a handful of other cars. A television news team was on the scene, too, and people were swarming everywhere.

  Despite the action on the waterfront, a crowd seemed to be forming around the TV reporters. The camera crew was setting up equipment beside the scuba team’s van, and a blond woman, whom Nancy recognized as Holly Payne, was motioning two of the divers to step in front of the camera.

  “I guess Holly Payne will have a real story now,” Nancy said sadly as they got out of the car.

  “Let’s watch,” George suggested. “We might pick up some useful details.”

  Jackson and Chris were already edging toward the television crew.

  “You guys go ahead,” Nancy said, glancing toward the waterfront. “I want to see what’s happening down on the beach.”

  As Nancy wove through the crowd, she saw that the house was cordoned off with police tape. She followed the tape to the side yard, where she came upon two men who seemed to be discussing the case.

  Nancy listened in as a tall, uniformed state trooper spoke quietly with a dark-haired, olive-skinned man wearing a well-tailored cashmere coat and leather gloves.

  “Our scuba team found the girl early this morning, near Terns Landing,” the trooper said, pushing back his wide-brimmed hat. “Looked like a drowning, but we won’t know for sure until the medical examiner checks out the body. We’ll send you a copy of the report, Detective DePaulo.”

  DePaulo? Nancy’s eyes locked on the Hispanic man in the cashmere coat. This was the Baltimore City detective whom Dr. Winston had mentioned. DePaulo had been investigating the threats against Annie and the aquarium.

  Nancy glanced down the frozen lawn to where the land gave way to a small, sandy beach. Two divers in wet suits were standing there, drinking something hot and steaming from cups. A short distance out in the choppy water a dinghy carried two other men from the scuba team along the narrow inlet.

  “What about the boyfriend?” asked Detective DePaulo. Getting a closer look at him, Nancy saw that he had deep hazel eyes and sandy brown hair.

  The state trooper glanced down at his clipboard. “Stuart Feinstein’s the name. He reported her missing at three-forty this morning. The guy was pretty broken up when we finally found the body. Started shouting that she’d been murdered.”

  “That’s him over there.” The state trooper added, nodding toward a young man sitting on a cedar picnic bench between the cottage and the sandy beach. He was huddled over, his blond head resting in his hands. Nancy could see that he was shivering, despite the big red parka he wore.

  “We’re taking him back to headquarters,” said the state trooper. “We’ll have him sign a statement there. Then he’ll be released—unless we stumble on some new developments in the meantime.”

  “I’d like a word with him before you take him in,” Detective DePaulo said.

  The trooper nodded. “No problem.”

  Nancy watched as the detective went over, brushed off the picnic bench, and sat down beside Annie’s boyfriend.

  “Look at him sitting there, playing the despondent boyfriend,” Chris said bitterly.

  Surprised at his tone, Nancy turned to find that Chris, George, and Jackson had joined her. She noticed that Chris’s fists were clenched as he scowled at Stuart.

  “I don’t know. . . .” George shrugged. “He looks pretty upset to me.”

  “Probably an act,” Chris snapped. “He could be the one who cost Annie her life. Who knows—maybe he pushed her off the boat himself.”

  “That’s a serious charge,” Nancy said. “Besides, Annie’s death might have been an accident.”

  Chris grinned cynically. “Yeah, sure. Remember yesterday I told you about two companies accused of polluting the bay?”
>
  Nancy nodded. “The Mills Company and Paperworks, Incorporated. You said that the task force was investigating them.”

  “Right. And one of those companies—Mills—employs Annie’s boyfriend, Stuart Feinstein,” Chris finished, still glowering at Stuart.

  No wonder Annie and Chris were arguing last night! Nancy thought. As far as Chris was concerned, Annie was a traitor, dating the enemy.

  Glancing back at Stuart Feinstein, Nancy realized he was a likely suspect. Stuart might have gotten involved with Annie just to keep her from investigating Mills. But did the thin, blond man have the nerve to kill Annie Goldwyn when she refused to go easy on the company that employed him?

  As Nancy watched, Detective DePaulo backed away from Stuart, then thanked the state trooper. “I’ll be in touch with your office if I come up with anything on my end,” said Detective DePaulo.

  A female officer took Stuart’s shoulder and led him into a police car. As he passed by, Nancy could see that Stuart had big blue eyes and high, prominent cheekbones. She had a few questions of her own for Annie’s boyfriend, but she realized he would be held up at police headquarters for a while. Instead, she pressed forward against the police barricade and waved at Detective DePaulo.

  “Excuse me, Detective,” she said. “Are you in charge of this case?”

  The attractive detective walked over to Nancy. “Well, that’s a matter of opinion. As you can see, we’ve got officers from the state, county, and coast guard working here. I work for the city, where Ms. Goldwyn reported some threats. But I wouldn’t say I’m in charge of the case, Miss . . . ?”

  “Drew. Nancy Drew,” Nancy offered.

  “Nancy Drew . . . yes, Dr. Winston told me he was going to bring in a private detective to work on that matter at the aquarium. So you’re the new P.I., huh?”

  “Confidentially.” Nancy smiled and shook Detective DePaulo’s hand. “Dr. Winston has been trying to keep the aquarium’s problems from the public, so I’m trying to keep a low profile.”

  DePaulo nodded. “Things are going to start heating up once that camera crew across the yard gets wind of this whole story.”

  Glancing back at Holly Payne and the TV crew, Nancy shrugged. “There’s no stopping them, but I hope they stick to the facts. At this point, speculation could be very damaging to the aquarium. Do you think that Annie’s death is related to the threats she was receiving?” Nancy asked him.

  He scratched his chin. “Oh, so I see you’re trying to get in on my case.”

  “Only if it’s related to mine,” she said.

  Detective DePaulo smiled. “Hmm. Well, as a detective, you’ll appreciate the fact that I can only speculate at this point. The boyfriend says that he and Annie were out on a little excursion last night on Annie’s cruiser, the Friendly Fin.”

  Had Annie been patrolling for the task force, looking for polluters? Nancy decided not to reveal all her information. “Isn’t it a little cold at this time of year to go boating?”

  “Exactly what I thought,” DePaulo said. “But the boyfriend claims that they were doing some investigating of their own. Says they got an anonymous tip about illegal dumping in the bay. They spotted an idling boat, a twenty-foot cabin cruiser. Saw somebody tossing barrels overboard.”

  “So they caught them!” Chris exclaimed. “Great! Now we can really nail them.” He stepped toward the detective. “Were they from Mills or Paperworks?”

  The detective paused, then asked Nancy, “Who is this guy?”

  “Chris Marconi,” Nancy explained. “Chris is a curator at the aquarium and a member of the Chesapeake Bay Task Force. And these are my friends George Fayne and Jackson Winston.”

  “I see.” Detective DePaulo scratched his chin again as he eyed Chris. “I’m sorry to say, your friends couldn’t identify the boat or the people on it.”

  “Or maybe Stuart doesn’t want to admit that they’re from Mills,” Chris commented.

  Nancy realized that he had a point. Stuart could be trying to cover for people he worked with. But the police were still searching Annie’s cottage, and the coast guard was still combing the bay. Maybe, by the end of the day, they would have clues to help piece together Annie’s death.

  “Where did they see the suspicious boat?” Nancy asked the detective.

  “According to Stuart, they came across the cabin cruiser not far from here, near an area known as Terns Landing,” DePaulo explained, shivering and flipping up the collar on his coat. “As soon as they spotted the illegal activity, Stuart and Annie returned here. She called the police, and he went to the road to flag the police car down, since this place is in such an isolated spot. When Stuart returned with the cops, Annie and the Friendly Fin were gone.”

  “Have you found the boat?” Nancy asked.

  “Not yet.” DePaulo looked across the choppy water of the inlet as a small coast guard boat cruised by. “But our scuba team and the coast guard have been searching since dawn. The boat is bound to turn up soon.”

  Nancy glanced up the road at Lenny’s, the bait and tackle shop with the small marina behind it. She was itching to check out the inlet, and the only way to do that was to get a boat.

  After thanking the detective, Nancy and the others walked up the dirt road. “This may sound crazy,” Nancy said as they reached the paved roadway, “but I think it’s time for a boat ride.”

  “Are you kidding?” George asked, pushing her collar over her ears as a brisk wind blew a tuft of saw grass past them.

  “I’m afraid not,” Nancy replied. “I’d like to cruise along the bay and check for clues. Do you think we could rent a boat from Lenny’s?” she asked, nodding toward the ramshackle cedar-sided hut on the main road.

  Chris snapped his fingers. “That’s a great idea! And I can get us to Terns Landing—that stretch of land the detective mentioned. I’d like to check it out, but we’ll need a boat to do it.”

  So Chris was familiar with Terns Landing. Suddenly, Nancy wondered how he knew so much about this area—and about Annie’s affairs. Although Chris livened things up, she had to remind herself to stay objective. Annie herself had pointed Nancy in Chris’s direction. He was still a suspect, and Nancy couldn’t let her guard down.

  While George and Jackson waited outside, Nancy and Chris went inside the small bait shop. A gum-chewing teenager with slicked-back blond hair agreed to let them use his boat for a small fee. “We don’t usually rent out our boats, especially not in the winter. Most people don’t want to go out this time of year,” he said, cracking his gum.

  “We’re bird-watchers,” Chris improvised, surprising Nancy. “We just want to cruise up to Terns Landing and look for nests.”

  Shrugging, the boy scribbled out a receipt and handed over the keys. “Take the Lazy Daze.”

  Outside, Nancy waved the keys in the air victoriously.

  “Great!” George called as she and Jackson ran over to the dock.

  Passing by a handful of boats covered with royal blue canvas tarps, they climbed into the Lazy Daze, a twenty-foot Boston Whaler. An open motorboat, it was small enough to maneuver easily. Chris took the wheel, and the rest of the group found seats as he started the boat and steered it into the inlet.

  “Keep your eyes peeled,” Nancy shouted above the noise of the engine.

  “What’re we looking for?” asked Jackson.

  Nancy shrugged. That was a good question. The coast guard had probably combed this area already, but Nancy wanted to get a look herself. “Watch for any signs of the Friendly Fin—or anything that looks unusual.”

  The bow of the boat rocked as they moved out of the inlet into a larger neck of the Chesapeake. Shielding her eyes from the sun, Nancy studied the shoreline. There were patches of sand, rocky coves, small weathered docks leading to private launches, and gold patches of tall swamp grass, but no sign of the missing boat. Nothing that looked the least bit suspicious.

  Staying low to keep her balance, Nancy joined Chris at the wheel. “We’ll go as far as Te
rns Landing,” he told her.

  “You know the bay pretty well,” she commented. “Have you been to Terns Landing before?”

  He nodded. “It’s been a hot topic for the task force. We’ve been arguing with the developer who bought the land—a woman named Lydia Cleveland. She wants to build waterfront condos where some endangered species of birds now live.”

  As the waterfront whizzed past, Nancy looked for any clues that might give her a better idea of exactly what had happened to Annie. Other than a small coast guard boat that moved past them, Nancy didn’t notice anything unusual.

  Ten minutes after they had left Lenny’s marina, Chris cut the engine and let the boat drift into a slip at a newly built wooden dock that was the only man-made structure on the wild marshland. Glancing along the horizon, Nancy saw that the wetlands gave way to tree-covered hills in some spots.

  “That’s Terns Landing,” Chris said, pointing along the beach. “This strip here, all the way up to that old lighthouse on the point. Three hundred acres of unspoiled land, inhabited by thousands of wild creatures.”

  Jackson tied the Whaler to the pier, then held the boat steady as George, Nancy, and Chris climbed onto the dock. The four of them walked to the end of the pier, where Chris warned them not to leave the beach area.

  “The dunes are filled with the nests and eggs of terns and plover. The plovers are an endangered species,” he explained. “If you stay near the waterline, you won’t disturb them.”

  A flock of birds scattered as the group filed onto the beach. “Let’s split up and see if there’s anything of interest here,” Nancy told the others.

  “Good idea,” George agreed, stretching. “And I could use some exercise. Race you to the point?” she challenged Jackson.

  “You’re on.”

  With that, they tore off toward the lighthouse. Nancy followed Chris in the opposite direction. “It’s beautiful here,” she said as they walked.

  “I understand why people want to live on the bay,” said Chris. “Though I don’t believe an undeveloped spot like this should be sacrificed.”