Chapter
One
MMM, this is the life,” Nancy Drew said with a contented sigh. She draped her fluffy rainbow-striped towel at the foot of the lounge chair and sank down into the soft cushions. Her reddish blond hair spread out around her head like a halo, glowing in the bright sunlight. “Nothing beats a long, lazy day at the River Heights Country Club pool.”
“Don’t I know it,” agreed her friend Bess Marvin. Bess was stretched out on the lounge chair next to Nancy’s, her eyes closed and her fair skin glistening with sunscreen. “Don’t you wish summer would last forever?”
“Not me,” piped up Bess’s cousin George Fayne from the other side of Nancy. “I’d hate to give up skiing.” Leaning on one elbow, she ran her fingers through her short, dark curls, which were still wet from swimming. “But don’t worry, Bess. It’s only June. We’ve still got the whole summer in front of us!”
“With heat like this, it’s hard to believe the summer is just beginning,” Nancy commented. “I heard the temperature was supposed to hit ninety today.” She plucked at the fabric of her neon green two-piece bathing suit. “I think it’s about there now, and I think I’m almost ready to jump in the pool.”
Bess opened her eyes and stared gravely at first Nancy and then George. “Tornado weather,” she said with a shudder. Her gaze drifted lazily in front of Nancy, but then her blue eyes suddenly flew open wide. “Hey, Nancy,” she said in an urgent whisper. “Who is that gorgeous guy?”
“Gorgeous guy?” George repeated, sitting up straight. “Where?”
“Over there,” Bess said, gesturing.
Shading her eyes with her hand, Nancy gazed over at the other side of the pool, where a young man of about nineteen or twenty had just settled into the lifeguard’s chair. He had shining black hair and classic chiseled features. His skin was tanned to a deep, glowing brown, which emphasized his slim yet muscular build. He was talking with a tall, lanky blond guy who stood by the chair.
“You mean the guy in the chair or the guy next to it?” George asked. “They’re both pretty awesome looking, if you ask me. Hey—doesn’t the tall one look familiar?”
“I can’t believe you don’t recognize David Park and Jonathan Evans,” Nancy said, shaking her head. “They were only a year ahead of us in high school.”
“That’s David Park?” Bess whispered. “That dark-haired hunk is the skinny, quiet guy who used to work in the library?”
“The one and only,” Nancy replied, laughing.
“Jonathan Evans!” George seemed flabbergasted. “Boy, has he changed.”
“Yeah, they both blossomed late,” Nancy agreed. “I guess I shouldn’t be teasing you about not recognizing them. I might not have known them myself, except that they go to Emerson College now. They’re friends of Ned’s.”
Bess’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, why didn’t you say so? You can reintroduce us.”
“Good idea, Bess,” George put in, her brown eyes still focused on the two guys.
“Fine by me. They’re really nice.” Nancy swung her long legs over the edge of her lounge chair and stood up. “Let’s go!”
The girls made a striking trio as they walked around the pool to the lifeguard’s station. Nancy was slender and lithe, with shoulder-length reddish blond hair and sparkling deep blue eyes. George was a bit taller than Nancy, with dark eyes and curls and the streamlined build of a natural athlete. Petite, curvy Bess had long blond hair, blue eyes, and a flirtatious smile.
“George, does my hair look ratty?” Nancy heard Bess whisper next to her.
“How could it? All you’ve done since we got here is brush it,” George replied.
“That’s not true!” Bess began indignantly.
Nancy chuckled as she listened to them argue. Bess and George were almost complete opposites, despite being cousins. One loved sports, the other hated exercise. One was quiet and a little on the shy side, the other bubbly and outgoing. And yet they were practically inseparable. They bickered some, but Nancy knew that under it all they were the best of friends.
“Hi, David. Hi, Jonathan,” Nancy called as she approached the lifeguard’s station.
The guys glanced over, and David broke into a wide grin of recognition. “Hey!” he greeted her. “How’ve you been, Nancy? Where’s Ned? I haven’t seen him since the end of spring semester.”
Nancy shrugged. “I wish I saw more of him, too,” she admitted. “But Ned’s been really busy with his summer job at the insurance company.”
“We know what that’s like,” Jonathan chimed in. He adopted an exaggerated, martyrlike expression and said, “We lifeguards have it pretty tough, sitting out here day after day in the hot sun.”
“My heart bleeds for you,” Nancy said dryly. Then she gestured toward Bess and George. “You remember Bess Marvin and George Fayne, don’t you?”
David’s dark eyes sparkled with interest as he took in the cousins, but Nancy noticed that his gaze lingered longer on Bess. “Well, if I didn’t, I sure won’t forget them now,” David declared. “You three look great!”
“George Fayne?” Jonathan gazed at George, and Nancy saw a glint of recognition and then admiration in his eyes. “You were on the school tennis team, right?”
George nodded, her eyes bright. “That’s right. And you were the track team’s star sprinter.”
Nice work, Drew, Nancy congratulated herself. “Hey,” she said suddenly as an idea struck her, “are you guys going to the concert at the lake tomorrow night?”
“You bet,” Jonathan replied. “Ice Planet’s the greatest.”
“Well, I’m having a barbecue at my house—just Ned, Bess, George, and me. Why don’t you guys come? We can all go to the concert together afterward,” Nancy suggested, glancing at Bess and George with a hint of a smile.
“I’ll be there,” Jonathan said immediately.
“Count me in,” David said at the same time.
“Great!” Nancy said. “Come over around six. See you then.”
As the girls walked back to their lounges, George whispered to Nancy, “You never said anything to us about a barbecue at your house tomorrow night.”
Nancy’s blue eyes gleamed mischievously as she explained, “That’s because I didn’t think of it until just now!”
“That’s what I call good thinking.” Bess nodded her approval.
Nancy was just lying back on her lounge when Bess demanded in a horrified tone, “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Well, last time I checked, it wasn’t a federal crime to lie in the sun,” Nancy said, gazing quizzically at Bess. “But I have a feeling that’s not what you have in mind.”
“You’ve got that right,” Bess retorted. “Come on, you two, get out of those chairs and stop being lazy. We have work to do!” She grabbed Nancy’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “The concert’s tomorrow night, we’re going with three gorgeous guys, and I for one have nothing to wear. We’ve got to shop!”
• • •
“Okay, we’re getting there. All I need is a pair of pants to go with the top I just bought,” Bess announced. “And maybe—”
“Here we go,” George muttered. “And maybe some new shoes, and some new makeup, and a dress in case the top and pants don’t look good—”
Nancy laughed. “You should talk,” she said, pointing at the bulging shopping bag in George’s hand. “You did pretty well yourself.”
It was afternoon and the girls had just left Vanities, a trendy boutique at the River Heights mall. Suddenly a familiar, gloating voice rang out from behind them: “Well, if it isn’t Nancy Drew.”
Even before she looked, Nancy knew who the speaker was: Brenda Carlton, girl reporter and major nuisance. Brenda’s father owned Today’s Times, one of River Heights’s
daily newspapers. He occasionally let Brenda write articles for the paper, and this had given her the idea that she was an ace crime reporter.
That in itself wasn’t so bad. The real problem was that Brenda constantly tried to show Nancy up by meddling in her investigations—often landing herself and Nancy in hot water.
Just recently Nancy had been working to clear Ned of a murder charge, and Brenda’s constant interference had almost landed Ned behind bars for life! And to top it off the reporter had had nerve enough to write-an article for the paper in which she’d taken credit for solving the case! Needless to say, Brenda wasn’t exactly on Nancy’s list of her favorite people.
Nancy sighed and turned around with a smile in place. The reporter was wearing a beige silk blouse, tailored slacks, and pumps, and her dark hair was twisted into a French braid. Nancy had to admit she looked very pretty.
“Don’t tell me you girls were actually shopping at Vanities,” Brenda said with disdain.
“Hi, Brenda,” Nancy said in a neutral voice.
George leaned close to Nancy and said in a low voice, “She’s probably just jealous. Her dad must have taken away her credit cards this week.”
Nancy saw a flash of annoyance in Brenda’s dark eyes. “I heard that,” Brenda said. “For your information, my cash flow is fine. In fact, I was hoping you three would let me treat you to a late lunch at the Eatery—if you haven’t eaten already.”
Nancy, Bess, and George exchanged startled glances. Brenda wasn’t exactly known for her generosity—especially toward them. Nancy couldn’t help wondering if she was up to something.
There was only one way to find out. “Uh, sure. We haven’t eaten yet. That’d be nice,” Nancy answered.
The four girls took the escalator up to the Eatery, a cafeteria-style restaurant on the mezzanine level. After going through the line, they carried their trays over to an empty table and sat down.
Nancy swallowed a bite of her chicken salad sandwich. “So, Brenda, what’s up?” she asked.
Brenda’s face radiated an innocence Nancy knew not to trust. “Up? Nothing’s up. I was just wondering what kind of plans you have for the summer.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Nancy said guardedly. “I’m between cases at the moment. I don’t really have any special plans.”
Bess laughed. “My plan is to have as much fun as possible,” she said.
“Mm-hm. Well, I don’t think I’ll have too much time for fun and relaxation,” Brenda said, shooting Nancy a significant look.
Here it comes, Nancy thought. “Uh—why not, Brenda?” she asked, taking the bait.
Brenda leaned forward. “I’ve been given a very important assignment at the paper,” she said in a confidential tone.
“Oh!” Bess exclaimed. “You mean your new column. I saw it the other day.”
“What column?” Nancy asked, surprised.
“If you ever read a paper, you’d know,” Brenda snapped. Then, with a smile at Bess, she added, “At least you seem to be concerned about current affairs. So how do you like the column?”
“Well, I’ve—uh—only seen it once or twice,” she answered, sounding a bit embarrassed. She turned to Nancy and George. “Brenda’s writing an advice-to-the-lovelorn column,” Bess explained. “So far I’ve seen only one column, though, and it seemed as if there weren’t many people who needed advice.”
Brenda’s cheeks flamed with color. “Yes, there are!” she cried. “The letters have been pouring in. I just—I just haven’t had a chance to answer them yet. I’ve been busy with other important assignments.”
Nancy stifled a laugh. The last story of Brenda’s she’d seen was on the theft of twelve dollars from the Elks’ Lodge petty cash box. Now, that was hot news! Aloud she merely said, “I’m sure more letters will come in, Brenda. People are always getting their hearts broken, falling in love.”
“Well, Nancy Drew,” Brenda snapped, “it may surprise you to know there are secrets in River Heights that even you haven’t heard of.”
There she goes again, trying to show me up, Nancy thought with a sigh. “I’m sure there are,” Nancy returned. “People are bound to have concerns that no one else knows about—or should know about. Some matters are just private.”
Brenda glared at her. “But there are some things that shouldn’t be kept secret, don’t you agree?” she retorted.
“Like what?” Nancy asked, picking up her sandwich to take a bite.
“Like murder.”
“What? What do you mean?” Nancy demanded, her eyes open wide.
Brenda folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile on her lips. “I mean—when was the last time you got a letter from someone who’s afraid they’re going to be murdered?”
Chapter
Two
MURDERED?” Nancy repeated, feeling dazed. She put her sandwich down on her plate. “What are you talking about? Who’s going to be murdered? Brenda, this could be serious.”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” Brenda replied secretively.
“Brenda, are you saying that you got a letter from someone who fears for his or her life? Who is it?” Nancy pressed, leaning forward on her arms.
“None of your business,” Brenda retorted. “A reporter never reveals her sources. Anyway, I don’t have time to discuss this right now—I have places to go and people to see.” She slid her chair back and stood up.
“Wait!” Nancy cried, but Brenda just smiled down at her and grabbed her purse.
“I’m sure I’ll see you around town,” she said, and flounced away.
The three girls stared after her. Then Bess turned to George and Nancy and asked, “You don’t think she’s serious, do you?”
“It would be just like her to make up something like that,” George said, forking a tomato from her chef’s salad. “Brenda will do anything for attention.”
“That’s true,” Nancy said slowly. “I’m not sure what to think. Let’s go over to the newsstand and check out this column of hers.”
Bess and George agreed. After finishing their lunches, the three girls wandered down to a newsstand on the main level. Nancy bought a copy of Today’s Times, and the girls sat down on a polished wooden bench to read it.
“ ‘Tornadoes Ravage Chicago Suburb,’” George read aloud, peering over Nancy’s shoulder at the headline on the front page. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah. Some friends of my parents live in that town,” Bess commented. “They lost their garage.”
“They’re lucky it was only the garage,” Nancy said soberly. “I mean, that’s bad, but just think how much worse it could have been. Look at this photo.” She pointed at a grainy black-and-white shot of the ruins of a house. One wall was oddly intact, but the rest had totally collapsed.
“Twenty-seven families have been left homeless,” George murmured, still reading the article. “Those poor people!”
“It’s this weather,” Nancy murmured. “All this awful, heavy heat. Tornadoes breed in it.”
Bess blew out her breath in a long sigh. “Please, you guys, let’s change the subject,” she begged. “All this stuff about tornadoes scares me.”
“At least there’s no tornado watch set for River Heights yet,” Nancy said.
“Well, actually, there was one of those minitornadoes—what do you call them, microbursts—here last weekend,” George said. She pointed at some scaffolding set up near one end of the mall’s main concourse. “Right over there. It barely touched down. Luckily for the mall, the only damage was to a skylight—oh, and the roof was ripped up a little bit.”
Bess looked as if she’d rather be anyplace but where she was right then. “I wish you hadn’t told me that, George,” she said nervously. Then she gasped. “Oh, no! I just thought of something really awful! What if there’s a tornado watch tomorrow night? They might call off the concert!”
“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it,” Nancy pointed out. “Come on, let’s read Brenda’s co
lumn.” She flipped through the paper until she came to the Lifestyles section. “Here it is—’Just Ask Brenda.’”
Bess leaned in to get a better look. “Hey, that’s a great picture of her.”
Nancy peered at the photo. Brenda had a sweet, helpful smile on her face. “I’ve never seen her look like that in real life,” she commented, laughing.
“Read us the first letter, Nan,” George suggested. “Let’s see what terrible problems Brenda is tackling today.”
“Okay, here goes.” Nancy went on to read a long, whiny complaint about a neighbor’s overgrown, unkempt lawn. “’I have asked her repeatedly to do something about her unsightly property, but she ignores me. What can I do?’” Glancing at Bess and George, Nancy told them, “The letter’s signed, Ted Up.’ “
“Whew!” George exclaimed. “What a boring letter! Are there any others?”
Nancy scanned the column. “Just one. It’s from a girl who wants to break up with her boyfriend because the only place he ever takes her is the video arcade.”
“What’s Brenda’s advice?” Bess asked.
“Brenda says it’s probably because the girl isn’t very interesting,” Nancy replied.
George let out a low whistle. “Talk about unsympathetic!”
“Yeah,” Bess added. “I think this column would be the last place anyone would turn to if they really needed help.”
George nodded her agreement. “She was probably making up what she said just now about someone being afraid.”
“If anything exciting ever does appear in this column,” said Nancy, tapping the folded-up paper in her lap, “I bet it will be right out of the overactive imagination of Brenda Carlton.”
Nancy got up from the bench and dropped the newspaper into a nearby garbage can. “Come on, guys, let’s get out of here. I want to get home and see if I can talk Hannah into making something wonderful for dessert for tomorrow night.”
“But I never bought a pair of pants,” Bess objected.
“Oh, come on,” George scolded. “You already have at least ten pairs of pants at home that would look perfect with your new top.”