The Perfect Plot

  It took her three minutes of work with her own bedroom key, nail file, and bent paper clip, but she finally got the door open. Slipping inside, she shut it behind her, then checked out the room. It contained two single beds, one of them still made up. The ornate furniture and heavy curtains were old-fashioned, although Nancy didn’t recognize the particular mystery genre they represented. The most modem touch was the cordless phone on the table between the beds.

  Nancy went straight to the closet and began turning the coat hooks. On the fourth try, a hook moved and the secret panel opened. Clutching her flashlight, she stepped into the passage. The door closed behind her.

  A flight of concrete steps led down to a narrow passage, with tunnels leading off it. Nancy tried to visualize the layout of the rooms and halls on the ground floor, then chose one of the passages. Soon after, she let out a soft whoop of triumph. Directly in front of her was the red door. She worked the latch and pushed. On the other side was the small office and file room that adjoined the study.

  Hurrying across to the study door, she opened it and said, “Peek-a-boo!”

  George had been standing by a table, leafing through a magazine. Now she dropped the magazine, and whirled around. “How did you get there?”

  Nancy showed George the bookcase hiding the door to the network of secret passages. “There’s a passage that leads from Bill Denton’s room right here, which happens to be near the safe.”

  George’s mouth fell open. “You mean you think he stole the figurines? But how—”

  Nancy held up a hand. “I have to check something out with Kate before I can be positive,” she said. “Come on!”

  They found Kate in the dining room, eating a breakfast of dry toast and tea. In response to Nancy’s questions, she told them that Bill had been given a room away from the construction noise, but he had gone to Kate and asked to be moved to a room where he had often stayed when Dorothea was still alive. He said he felt sentimental about it.

  “Do you happen to have the home number of the construction-crew foreman?” Nancy asked.

  “I should have it somewhere,” Kate answered. She left the table, returning a few minutes later with a slip of paper. “Good luck,” she said as she handed it to Nancy. “It’s the weekend, you know. He may have gone fishing or something. But that’s what you’re doing, too, isn’t it?”

  “Not really,” Nancy replied. “Fishermen throw out their bait and wait to see what bites. It’s different for me. I have a very good idea of what I’m going to catch.”

  Once she and George were back in their room, Nancy dialed the number Kate had given her. The call was answered on the third ring. She spoke for a few minutes, then put the handset back on the base.

  “Now will you tell me what this is all about?” George asked, sitting on Nancy’s bed.

  Nancy grinned. “Sure. Remember Bill’s alibi? He said he was on the phone from about noon to one. And Mallet, the guy he was talking to then, noticed how noisy the call was. Bill said it was because of the construction going on outside his window.”

  “But Bill chose that room,” George protested. “He must have known it was going to be noisy.”

  “Oh, he knew, all right,” Nancy said. “Except for a very minor detail. On Friday, the construction crew took its lunch hour from noon to one. And that was exactly when Bill was on the phone with his client.”

  “Wait a minute, didn’t you just say they were on their lunch hour?” George asked, holding up her hands. “There wouldn’t have been any noise then.”

  “Exactly,” Nancy said triumphantly. “Bill knew that Kate was going to be away from the study, meeting with Julian and Patrick, from noon to one. So at noon, he placed a call to his chattiest client, on the cordless phone in his room. Then he went through the hidden passage to the study, opened the safe, took the figurines, and returned the way he had come, carrying the phone with him the whole time. That’s why the phone call was noisy—the farther he got from the phone base, the more static there was. And he explained it to his friend as construction noise.”

  “Nancy, that’s brilliant! Then he killed Maxine because she found out what he’d done and threatened to expose him.”

  “Maybe,” Nancy said. “But I think he had another motive, too. There was that phone call with Dorothea that Maxine had taped—Maxine hinted that the call indicated that Bill had been embezzling money from Dorothea. I bet that a careful check of the books from Bill’s literary agency will show that he’s not only broke, he’s a crook as well.”

  George’s face fell. “But we don’t have a single bit of evidence against him,” she pointed out.

  “Maybe not, but I know where we might be able to find some,” Nancy said, grinning at George.

  A gleam of understanding shone in George’s dark eyes. “Of course! Mercury, the god of thieves!”

  • • •

  Nancy and George sat in the sun room, where they could keep a close eye on the parking lot. It seemed like forever before Bill’s sports car returned. Bill climbed out and started toward the house, a stack of newspapers under his arm.

  “Now!” Nancy muttered. “While there’s no chance that he’ll see us.”

  She and George went outside and around to the side of the house. Less than a minute later they were slipping through the entrance to the maze. Hidden within the tall, overgrown hedges, Nancy was sure no one could see them now.

  “Look,” she said, pointing toward the hedge along one side of the maze. “Those twigs are broken, but the leaves on them are still green.”

  “Hey, what’s this?” George asked. She plucked a bit of white wool from a bush and showed it to Nancy. “I bet it came from his cable-knit sweater,” Nancy said excitedly. “He must have come through here. Now, how do we get to the center?”

  The maze was a confusing collection of wrong turns and dead ends. The girls had to retrace their steps and try other routes a half-dozen times. Finally they reached a grassy circle about ten feet across. In the center, on a waist-high stone pedestal, was a bronze statue of a man poised on the ball of one foot. Little wings grew from his heels.

  “Mercury,” George said. “Just like in the book.”

  “Do you remember where the secret compartment was or how to open it?” Nancy asked, stepping right up to the statue.

  “Oh, sure. That was an awesome scene, when the heroine discovered the secret. She had to press down on one of the wings on Mercury’s feet.”

  “Then let’s see how closely Dorothea followed her own book,” Nancy said.

  She bent over to study the little wings on the right foot, which was resting on the pedestal. One of the wings was obviously cast as one piece with the foot, but the other . . .

  Nancy didn’t want to disturb any prints, so she pulled down her shirt sleeve to cover her hand, then gently turned the wing. It resisted at first, but then it moved and there was a muffled click. One of the facing stones on the pedestal slid outward a half inch.

  “Nancy!” George exclaimed.

  Nancy’s pulse was racing as she grasped the edge of the stone and pulled it forward. Behind it was a compartment about a foot square, with a cardboard shoe box in its side. As delicately as she could, Nancy pulled the box toward her and lifted the lid a few inches.

  The gleam of gold and sparkle of jewels were unmistakable. She and George gazed down at the precious figurines.

  “Wow,” George said. “They’re incredible!”

  Nancy didn’t want to spoil any fingerprints by touching the figurines. Carefully she replaced the lid of the box and pushed the stone door closed on it.

  “We’d better get on the phone to Lieutenant Kitridge,” she added.

  They slipped out of the maze unnoticed and returned to the house. While Nancy called the lieutenant, George sat by a window in the living room with a view of the maze entrance. “Nobody’s gone near it,” she reported when Nancy returned.

  “Good,” Nancy said. “The lieutenant promised to have his men in concea
led positions in half an hour. We should take turns getting some breakfast. You know the old saying—never trap a crook on an empty stomach!”

  • • •

  Thirty minutes later, Nancy and George found Bill Denton in the sun room, browsing through his newspapers. The girls pulled a couple of wicker chairs next to a window and sat down with the backs to him. They had brought two mugs of tea with them, which they drank while they talked.

  “I wish someone would put together a guide to Mystery Mansion,” Nancy remarked, just loud enough for Bill to hear. “Dorothea built so many interesting features into it. Do you suppose they all came from her books?”

  “I know that secret door in our closet did,” George replied. “And some of the other features seem familiar, too. Did you read The Golden Antelope?”

  “No, I missed that one. Why?”

  George gave a little laugh that almost betrayed her nervousness. “Did you notice that overgrown maze at the side of the house? There was one like it in The Golden Antelope. It had a statue in the middle, with a secret compartment in the base.”

  “Really?” Nancy said, trying to sound very eager. “Hey, why don’t we go check out the maze to see if it has a statue?”

  “Okay,” George replied. “But let’s finish our tea first.”

  Behind them, Bill stood up, collected his newspapers, and walked away.

  Nancy exchanged a grin with George. They waited in the sun room a few minutes longer, then returned to the living room to a window that had a view of the maze.

  “Do you think he really took the bait?” George asked in an undertone.

  “We’ll know pretty soon,” Nancy replied. Then she pointed and said, “Look, there he is!”

  Bill was strolling casually across the lawn. It looked as if his path just happened to bring him close to the maze. He glanced at the entrance, then, as if on impulse, went inside.

  Nancy took a deep breath, then another. The next thing she knew, a knot of people came boiling out of the maze entrance. Two of them, in blue uniforms, were trying to subdue Bill, who was struggling with them. Behind him, Lieutenant Kitridge was carefully holding a shoe box in both hands.

  “They got him!” George exclaimed. She and Nancy ran outside just as the lieutenant finished informing Bill of his rights. When he saw the two teens, a flash of understanding crossed Bill’s face.

  “You’ve got it all wrong, Lieutenant,” Bill said. “I didn’t steal the figurines. I found them. I went looking for them inside the maze because of something in one of Dorothea’s books. I was going to turn them over to you right away.”

  For a moment doubt welled up in Nancy’s mind. Could Bill be telling the truth? But what about the strands of wool on the twigs of the maze? She looked at the box in Lieutenant Kitridge’s hands, then glanced down at Bill’s running shoes.

  Taking a chance, Nancy said, “Maybe you can explain how the stolen figurines came to be in your shoe box. Same brand, same color, and I’m willing to bet they’re the same size, too.”

  Bill turned pale, and Nancy knew she’d guessed correctly.

  “Come with me,” Lieutenant Kitridge told Bill. “You can do the rest of your talking at headquarters.”

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  I CAN’T BELIEVE it was Bill,” Vanessa said a half hour later.

  Word of Bill’s arrest and the recovery of the figurines had spread quickly. The police had just left with him in custody, and now everyone was gathered in the living room to hear all the details.

  “I’m mortified that I didn’t think of the statue of Mercury in the maze myself,” said Professor Coining, who was leaning against the mantel, sipping a glass of mineral water. “And I confess I’m astonished that Bill relied on such a hopelessly obvious hiding place.”

  “It wasn’t obvious until George and Nancy found it,” Julian pointed out from the couch. He was openly relieved not to be a suspect anymore.

  Vanessa nodded her agreement. “The way you two lured Bill into incriminating himself was a masterstroke.”

  “Thanks,” Nancy said, feeling her cheeks grow warm. In the chair next to hers, George’s cheeks were also bright red. She seemed awed by the praise they had received from the mystery experts.

  “I wonder what Bill intended to do with the figurines,” Patrick said, sitting on the arm of George’s chair.

  “I can answer that,” Kate said. She put down the tray of soft drinks she’d been passing around and reached into her sweater pocket. “I found this on my desk this morning.” She passed a folded sheet of paper to Nancy.

  Opening it, Nancy read aloud: “ ‘You can have the jeweled statues back for two hundred thousand dollars in used tens and twenties. You’ll get delivery instructions by phone on Monday. Don’t tell the cops or I’ll melt down the statues. Signed, Berringer.’ ”

  Professor Coining gave an amused snort. “That’s the name of the brilliant jewel thief in Dorothea’s book Monte Carlo Carnival. I’m afraid Bill had an exaggerated opinion of his talents.”

  “The worst thing is, we probably would have paid it,” Kate said, shaking her head ruefully. “Now, thanks to Nancy and George, we won’t have to.”

  “I’m not surprised that the thief turned out to be Bill,” Julian said. Getting up from the couch, he walked over to the fireplace and stirred the coals with a poker. “I always thought there was something sleazy about him. But I have trouble imagining him as a killer.”

  “A killer?” Vanessa repeated, looking surprised. “Do you mean it was Bill, and not Erika, who killed Maxine? But why?”

  Nancy told the others about the strange conversation she and George had overheard through the heating duct on Friday night and about the implied threat in Maxine’s comment to Bill about a taped call from Dorothea. “She obviously knew that he had been stealing from Dorothea,” Nancy concluded. “Maybe she also guessed that he had stolen the figurines. That meant she was a terrible danger to him, so he got rid of her. I imagine he found Erika’s scarf somewhere and used it to frame her.”

  Professor Coining cleared his throat. “No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “That can’t possibly be right.”

  “What!” Patrick exclaimed. “What are you saying?”

  “Am I correct in saying that Maxine was murdered not long before breakfast yesterday?” the professor continued, addressing Nancy.

  “That’s right,” Nancy confirmed. “Sometime around eight o’clock.”

  “Then Bill Denton did not kill her. I can give him an ironclad alibi.”

  The room seemed to explode as everybody started talking at once. Nancy was just as shocked as the others. She waited for the hubbub to die down, then said, “I’d like to hear about it, Professor.”

  “Well, I am a bit of an insomniac, and yesterday morning I awoke at four or so and could not get back to sleep,” he began. “Finally, at around five-thirty, I came downstairs to get a glass of milk. In the kitchen I found Bill, making himself a sandwich.”

  “I wondered who’d made that mess in the kitchen,” Kate murmured.

  “He seemed preoccupied,” the professor continued. “I guessed that he needed something to distract him, and so, I confess, did I. I proposed a few hands of gin rummy. We returned to my room, where we chatted and played cards until after eight-thirty, when we came down together to breakfast.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Nancy said. “Are you telling us that you and Bill were together every single moment from about five-thirty until after eight-thirty?”

  “That’s correct,” Professor Coining replied with an emphatic nod. “He could not possibly have murdered Maxine Treitler.”

  Nancy felt her heart sink. Maxine’s murderer was still at large—and probably in that very room.

  In her mind she tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together with what she knew. If Bill didn’t kill Maxine, then the murder—and possibly the threat she and George had overheard—wasn’t at all connected to the theft.

  George inter
rupted Nancy’s thoughts after a few minutes. Looking up, Nancy saw that Patrick was standing with her. “We’d like to go play a few games of tennis. We’ll be back right after to help solve this case. Is that okay?”

  Nancy didn’t see any point in both of them being indoors and stewing. “Go on ahead,” she told George. “I’ll see you later.”

  Turning her mind back to Maxine’s murder, Nancy thought of the scarf and the shoe print in the secret passageway. The police had tied both to Erika, so why did Nancy doubt Erika was the killer?

  Nancy thrummed her fingers on the chair arm. If only she had more to go on!

  On an impulse, she jumped to her feet. Making an excuse to the others, she left the living room and went up to her room. She grabbed a flashlight and went into the closet to the secret door. If Erika had gotten to Maxine’s room through the passages, then so could she. Maybe she had missed some important evidence.

  The room that Maxine had occupied was four rooms down, on the opposite side of the hall. The passage from Nancy’s room led down a steep flight of stairs, then up another and along a narrow hall. Nancy’s first try brought her out in a closet with two tweed jackets. It was obviously Professor Coining’s room. Closing the secret panel, she tried again.

  Nancy was approaching the second door when her flashlight beam fell on a folded sheet of paper on the floor. Was this something Lieutenant Kitridge’s officers had missed? Perhaps they hadn’t ventured this far into the secret corridors.

  She picked it up and held it in the beam of her flashlight. It was a note, with Dorothea Burden’s name printed at the top.

  I am speaking to you from beyond the grave. I cannot bear to share what I know with anyone while I am alive, but I don’t dare let this knowledge die with me. This “novel” will tell you, and many others, the terrible truth that I have discovered. No one else knows what it contains. Kate does not even know it exists. I sent my dictation tapes secretly to a typing service in another city, and you are holding the only copy of the manuscript. Read it, then decide what you must do with it.