The Runaway Bride Page 2

  Nancy turned to see a tall, cute guy in his early twenties moving toward them. He had a square, tan face, large brown eyes, and straight hair, which he wore long on top and short at the sides. He was dressed in a ceremonial black kimono embroidered with silver crests.

  “Hi, Ken,” Mari said, anxiety flashing briefly across her face.

  Nancy could tell that Mari was wondering if Ken had overheard their conversation about Midori. Mari recovered her composure quickly. “Nancy, George, this is Kentaro Nakamura,” she said smoothly. “Ken, this is Nancy Drew and George Fayne, Midori’s friends from River Heights.”

  Ken extended his hand to each of the girls in turn. “It is a great pleasure to meet you,” he said enthusiastically. “Midori has told me all about you. If you have the time, I’d like you to meet my family.” He led them to three people who were standing nearby.

  Nancy was struck by Ken’s warmth as he introduced Nancy and George to his mother first. Yoko Nakamura was in her midforties. She had short jet black hair, high cheekbones, and a small, slim figure. Her elegant magenta suit and ruby and diamond necklace were obviously very expensive.

  “You came all the way from America for the wedding?” Yoko said to the girls. She sounded amused. “How cute. Isn’t that cute, Seiji?”

  Seiji, the man Yoko was addressing, was a middle-aged version of Ken, with the same square face, tall, slender build, and deep, husky voice. His hair was streaked with gray, and he wore a pair of tiny rimless glasses.

  He bowed to Nancy and George. “I am Ken’s uncle, Seiji Nakamura,” he said simply, ignoring his sister-in-law’s remark.

  “And this is Uncle Seiji’s personal assistant, Connor Drake,” Ken finished. Nancy and George shook hands with a stocky redheaded man in his twenties. He was dressed in a stylishly cut brown suit.

  “How do you do,” Connor said in a British accent. He glanced at the girls, then his pale gray eyes darted distractedly about the crowd. He was clearly not interested in them, Nancy realized.

  Mari leaned toward Nancy and touched her elbow. “I am going to check on Midori,” she whispered. “I will see you later.” After bowing and exchanging a few words with the Nakamuras, she hurried off in the direction of the villa.

  Seiji glanced at his watch. “It is almost time,” he told his nephew.

  “I had better go to my place,” Ken said to Nancy and George. “Midori will kill me if I hold things up.” His face was flushed and his eyes were bright with excitement.

  “Good luck,” Nancy called out as he, Seiji, Yoko, and Connor headed up the aisle. Then she and George found seats toward the back.

  “Ken seems like a really sweet guy—not to mention a major hunk,” George said to Nancy, crossing her legs and smoothing her green silk dress over her knees. “No wonder Midori’s crazy about him.”

  There was a flurry of activity up front. Nancy noted that Yoko, Seiji, and Connor had taken seats in the front row. An elderly man in a dark kimono, who was probably the priest, was instructing Ken where to stand. A musician began to play the koto. The plaintive sound coming from the traditional wood and string instrument made Nancy think of ancient Japan.

  “But Mrs. Nakamura’s kind of a snob, if you ask me—and so is Connor,” George continued. “Mr. Nakamura’s okay, I guess—kind of quiet.”

  The girls continued to discuss the Nakamuras for a while. Then Nancy said, “I wonder what the delay is. It’s after twelve.”

  “Weddings never start on time,” George replied.

  Another fifteen minutes passed, and still there was no ceremony. People were beginning to stir. Nancy noticed that Ken and the priest glanced toward the villa every few seconds. At one point Seiji got up from his seat and exchanged a few words with his nephew.

  Just then Nancy spotted Midori’s father approaching Seiji and Ken. After a moment Seiji shook his head and crooked his finger at Yoko, who rose from her seat. Then the four of them rushed off toward the villa.

  “Something’s up,” Nancy said to George.

  “Maybe Midori spilled tea on her kimono,” George replied with a grin.

  Nancy chuckled and glanced at her watch again. Twelve forty-five.

  A blond guy sitting a few rows in front of her and George caught Nancy’s attention. He was staring off to his right. Nancy could make out most of his handsome—and familiar—profile.

  She took in a sharp breath. It couldn’t be!

  “What is it, Nan?” George demanded. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Nancy pointed to the guy, who was now facing front. “Am I crazy, or is that . . .”

  Her words trailed off as she caught sight of Seiji walking briskly back from the villa and approaching the priest. They had a brief conversation. The koto music stopped, then Seiji stepped before the crowd and waved his hands. Yoko, Ken, Mari, and the Katos were nowhere to be seen.

  “I think Mr. Nakamura’s going to make an announcement,” George whispered apprehensively. “You’ll have to translate for me. He doesn’t look happy.”

  The crowd fell silent as Seiji bowed deeply.

  He cleared his throat. “I regret to inform you that the wedding will not take place.”

  Chapter

  Three

  SEVERAL PEOPLE in the crowd gasped. Nancy and George stared at each other silently after Nancy translated.

  “Please accept our humblest apologies,” Seiji went on. “For those of you who need transportation back to downtown Tokyo or to the train station, we will arrange for limousines to take you there.”

  People began rising from their seats, whispering.

  “I don’t get it,” George said to Nancy, not referring to the translation.

  “I don’t, either,” Nancy replied grimly.

  Then she spotted Mari near the villa. “Come on, George,” she said, leaping up. “Maybe Mari can tell us what’s going on.”

  They caught up with her just outside one of the back doors. “Mari!” Nancy called out.

  Mari turned. Her face was streaked with tears.

  Nancy put her hand on the girl’s arm. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know,” Mari moaned. “Everything is such a mess. My sister is gone!”

  “What!” George cried out.

  “Tell us what happened,” Nancy said gently.

  “After I left you and the Nakamuras, I went to find Midori,” Mari explained shakily. “But she was not in her dressing room—she was nowhere in the villa! My parents and I searched for her, but we could not find her. When we told Mr. Nakamura, he said we would have to call off the wedding—”

  “Could she have been kidnapped?” George said anxiously.

  “I doubt that,” Mari murmured. “I was trying to tell you earlier, before Ken interrupted us, that right before I left her Midori told me she would not go through with the wedding. I did not believe her. I thought it was just nerves.” She began crying again. “I should have listened to my sister! Now she’s gone!”

  Nancy frowned. “Did she tell you why she didn’t want to marry Ken?”

  “No,” Mari said, taking a lace handkerchief from her pocket and dabbing at her eyes. “My parents and the Nakamuras are saying that she ran away so she would not have to have an arranged marriage. They are all furious with her.”

  She put the handkerchief away and added, “But I know that Midori would never walk out on Ken. If she ran away, she had a good reason. She may be in some trouble.”

  Nancy’s mind was reeling. She agreed with Mari. In all of her letters Midori had sounded so happy about marrying Ken. It was hard to believe that she’d try to get out of it, especially by running away.

  Yet she couldn’t forget Midori’s behavior the night before—the way she’d burst out crying when Nancy brought up the subject of the wedding. What was going on? Had Midori exaggerated her affection for Ken in her letters?

  Nancy turned to Mari. “What time did you leave Midori alone in her dressing room?”

  “Approximately eleven thirty,
I think,” Mari replied, sniffling.

  “And it was just before noon when you left us to check on her,” Nancy went on. “We should question the staff of the villa before they leave. Someone may have seen Midori take off.”

  Mari clasped her hands and stared at Nancy imploringly. “Does this mean you will help me find her? You are a detective—you should be able to track her down!”

  “I’d be glad to do what I can,” Nancy replied. “Let’s start inside the villa.”

  As the three girls headed down the main hall of the old building in search of staff members, they passed the Katos, Seiji, and Connor in a large sitting room. The Katos and Seiji were having an argument. Connor was behind his boss, arms crossed, silent.

  Mari rushed into the room. “What is going on?” she whispered to her mother, who raised a finger to her lips.

  Nancy and George lingered just outside the doorway, not wanting to intrude. The argument was in Japanese, but Nancy managed to catch the gist of it.

  “Your crazy daughter humiliated my family in front of hundreds of people!” Seiji was saying in a low, livid voice. “Yoko is so embarrassed she’s hiding in one of the back rooms until all the guests have gone. And I don’t even know where my nephew is.”

  “We had no idea Midori was planning to run away!” Tadashi replied, his face beet red. “She didn’t tell us anything!” He turned to his wife. “It was that wild, free-thinking art school that did this to her, Toshiko. She used to be such an obedient girl. Now I don’t know her.”

  “Papa, don’t say that!” Mari cried out. “Midori’s friend Nancy Drew is going to help us find her—”

  “Find her!” Tadashi exclaimed. “Midori does not want to be found. She would not dare show her face after what she has done.”

  Toshiko put her hand on her husband’s arm. “Tadashi, you are being too hard,” she murmured.

  “He is right, Toshiko,” Seiji remarked. “Midori has brought disgrace to both of our families.”

  Nancy turned to George, who clearly had no idea what was going on. “Let’s get out of here,” she said.

  When they’d walked down the hall a little way, George asked, “What did I miss in there?”

  Nancy filled her in. “Mari wasn’t kidding. I guess Midori really blew it. Everyone’s incredibly mad at her.”

  Just then Mari came out of the sitting room and joined them. “That was awful, wasn’t it?” she said dejectedly.

  “Uh-huh,” Nancy replied. “What did your dad mean about Midori’s art school?”

  “Oh, that.” Mari sighed. “When she was at Senagawa, Midori kind of—well, she changed.”

  She paused to brush her bangs out of her eyes. “Midori was friends with some weird people, I guess. Plus, something happened between her and Ken at that time—she seemed to drift away from him. My parents finally pulled her out of the school. They said they didn’t like what it was doing to her.”

  Nancy was thoughtful. “Were any of Midori’s Senagawa friends invited to the wedding?”

  “No,” Mari said. “My parents would not have them here. To tell you the truth, most of the guests are business contacts of my father’s and Mr. Nakamura’s.”

  “Can you get me the names and numbers of some of Midori’s old art school friends?” Nancy persisted. “I’d like to talk to them. Maybe they’ll have some idea about what’s going on with Midori.”

  Mari nodded. “I will do it when I get home.”

  The three girls spent the next half hour questioning staff members of the villa—caterers, musicians, and security guards. None of them had seen Midori leave.

  “She seems to have disappeared into thin air,” George remarked as they walked down the hallway to Midori’s dressing room.

  “Of course, this place is huge,” Nancy pointed out. “And so are the grounds. It’s not so surprising that she managed to sneak off without being noticed.”

  Midori’s dressing room was a Japanese-style room with a few pieces of antique furniture. An ivory-inlaid vanity table was covered with combs, brushes, mirrors, and makeup. The tatami floor was littered with bobby pins and dry cleaner’s bags. The air smelled of talcum powder.

  Mari nodded at a pile of clothes in the corner. “That was what Midori was wearing before she got into her kimono.”

  “So we know she was wearing her kimono when she left the villa,” Nancy said.

  “There was no way she could have gotten out of it by herself in such a short time,” Mari commented.

  The room opened onto a private courtyard at the side of the villa. “Come on,” Nancy said.

  The courtyard was bordered by tall, perfectly trimmed hedges. “Midori could have slipped out this way,” Nancy observed. “This courtyard is cut off from the rest of the grounds.”

  “And the wedding site is at the other end of the villa,” Mari added.

  There was a narrow opening in the hedges, and just beyond it, a dirt path. The girls started down it. It led through a bamboo grove to one of the rear corners of the property and ended at an iron gate leading to the street.

  “Look!” Nancy exclaimed.

  She bent down to study something that had caught on the gate. It was a long, thickly braided cord. It had become slightly unraveled, and a few gold threads hung loose from it.

  “That’s Midori’s obi-jime!” Mari cried out. Seeing the confusion on Nancy and George’s faces, she added quickly, “It’s part of her wedding outfit. It goes on top of the obi, the wide sash that holds the kimono together.”

  “It must have come undone when Midori went through here,” Nancy said. She jiggled the gate, and it swung open.

  Nancy went out into the street. There were no cars. “Where does this street lead?” she asked Mari.

  “To the left, it is a dead end,” Mari replied. “And to the right, it leads through some rice fields. It connects with the highway after that.”

  “Midori didn’t have a car with her, right?” George said. Mari nodded. “So how did she get away?”

  Nancy frowned. “Good question.” She tucked Midori’s obi-jime into the pocket of her pale yellow dress and started walking back toward the villa. “Let’s talk to Ken,” she said.

  The girls found him near the wedding site. He was sitting on a stone bench, alone, dressed in a jacket and slacks. He was watching as workers put away the folding chairs. It was after one thirty, and almost all the guests had gone home.

  Nancy approached him, Mari and George at her heels.

  He glanced up. “Hi,” he murmured hollowly. He seemed to be in a state of shock.

  Nancy sat down next to him. “I’m sorry about all this.”

  “You’re sorry,” he said bitterly. “I feel like I have been punched in the stomach.”

  Mari sat down on the other side of him. “Ken, Nancy is a detective,” she said softly. “I have asked her to find Midori.”

  “We thought you might be able to give us some information about her,” George piped up.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Nancy raised her eyes to see Yoko Nakamura marching toward them. Her cheeks were flushed with anger.

  “My son has just suffered a terrible blow,” Yoko began huffily, then fixed her blazing eyes on Mari, “thanks to your sister’s childish behavior. The last thing he needs is to be reminded of her.” She shook her head and muttered something in Japanese. Nancy thought it sounded like, “I always knew that Midori was no good.”

  Ken sighed and held up one hand. “Mother, do not make a scene. I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine,” Yoko insisted firmly. “Besides, we are all ready to go.” She started walking toward the villa, expecting her son to do the same.

  Ken sighed again and stood up. “If you still want to talk, you can come to our house later,” he said quietly to Nancy. “At five. Mari can tell you the address.” Then he followed his mother inside.

  “What was that all about?” George asked Mari.

  “Mrs. Nakamura is angry, along with
everyone else,” Mari replied unhappily. “I had better go, too—my parents are probably waiting for me.”

  After giving Nancy and George directions to the Nakamuras’ and promising to call with the names of Midori’s art school friends, Mari left.

  “Where to now?” George said to Nancy.

  “Let’s grab one of those limousines Mr. Nakamura mentioned,” Nancy suggested. “I’d like to get back to the ryokan and out of this dress.”

  “Hey, Nan,” George said as they were heading for the parking lot. “I just remembered. Right before the ceremony was to start, you were pointing someone out to me—a blond guy.”

  Nancy stopped in her tracks. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “In all the excitement, I totally forgot!”

  “So who was it?” George asked.

  “Me by any chance?” a male voice rang out.

  Nancy and George spun around. A tall guy was standing right behind them.

  Nancy’s heart began racing madly. It really was him. Golden hair, the greenest eyes she’d ever seen . . .

  “Mick Devlin,” she whispered.

  Chapter

  Four

  I SPOTTED YOU a while ago, but then lost sight of you,” Mick said. “Lucky that I found you again.”

  He stepped forward and put his hands on Nancy’s shoulders. “It’s good to see you,” he murmured, staring into her eyes.

  It was a moment before Nancy could find her voice. “It’s good to see you, too,” she said finally. “I thought it was you, but I couldn’t believe it.”

  Mick smiled, then turned to George. “Hello, George,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.

  “Hello yourself,” George said, grinning broadly. “What on earth are you doing here, Mick? Why aren’t you in Australia?”

  “I’m working at Nakamura Incorporated,” Mick explained. “I’ve had an internship there for the last six months.” He dug his hands into the pockets of his cream-colored linen suit. “Now it’s my turn. What brings you two to Japan? Are you on a case?”

  Nancy and George glanced at each other. “Well, yes,” Nancy said. “But that’s not why we came. The bride—well, the almost-bride—is a friend of ours.”