010 Buried Secrets Read online

  With a final toss of her head, Brenda strutted over to her car, got in, and drove off without a backward glance at Nancy.

  Nancy almost laughed. Some detective, she thought. She’s following a car that’s trying to run me off the road and she doesn’t even bother to check the license number.

  But Brenda was right about one thing. Someone was trying to stop Nancy’s investigation. All Nancy had to do was figure out who.

  Suddenly a loud whistle made Nancy look up. A car, filled with boys, was going by, and all of them waved wildly at her, whistling and asking if she needed a lift.

  Smiling, Nancy shook her head and then got into the Mustang. If she was going to do any thinking, the side of the road was not the best place to do it. A hot shower, she thought. That was always a good place for a brainstorm.

  On the way back, Nancy drove by the Nickersons’ house, hoping to ask about Neil Gray. But no one was there, so she went home and jumped into the shower.

  Who knew that she was investigating the Harrington death? That was obviously the place to start. Nancy stood under the warm spray and thought about it. Brenda, for one. And whomever Brenda had told—which was probably at least a hundred people.

  Ned knew, and so did Hannah. But had Hannah told anyone? Nancy would have to ask her.

  Then there was Todd Harrington and whomever he’d told. Todd didn’t want her investigating his father’s death, he’d admitted that. He said he couldn’t stop her, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. And of course, there was everybody she’d spoken to at the police station, plus the mayor’s secretary. And probably Mayor Abbott, if he’d checked his appointment book for the next day.

  And what about Neil Gray and Charles Ogden? If they were still in River Heights, they might know what she was doing. But if they were still in town, why didn’t anyone know it?

  Nancy turned off the faucets. The shower had felt great, but it hadn’t produced any brainstorms. Not that time.

  Nancy was just stepping out of the bathroom when she heard the phone ring. With a fluffy towel wrapped around herself, she dashed out of the bathroom and into her bedroom. She picked up the bedside extension on the fourth ring.

  A male voice said, “Hi, sweetheart. How’s business?”

  “Dad!” Nancy cried. “I’m really glad you called. How are you? How’s Boston?”

  “I’m fine, and it’s rainy,” Carson Drew said with a laugh. “How are you?”

  “Great,” Nancy told him. “I’m on a case.”

  “Oh? Then why aren’t you out solving it?” he asked.

  Nancy laughed but decided not to tell him about her wild ride down the cliff road. “I was out,” she said, “but I don’t think I can get much more done today. I’m investigating John Harrington’s death,” she went on. “Do you remember it?”

  “I guess so,” Mr. Drew said. “Oh, yes, now I do—well, kind of. It was in the papers for weeks. And I remember it wasn’t exactly settled or people weren’t satisfied with the solution. Something like that.”

  “Were you satisfied?”

  “Well, I don’t really remember. Refresh my memory about the case.” Nancy told her father what she had learned, and he said he couldn’t believe John Harrington had jumped to his death. Mr. Drew became thoughtful. “To tell you the truth, he sounds so arrogant that I can’t believe he’d kill himself.”

  “And he couldn’t have fallen, either,” Nancy said. “Not out that window.”

  “I see you have been on the case,” her father commented. “Do you think he was murdered?”

  “I don’t know what I think yet,” Nancy said. “Listen, Dad, do you remember Neil Gray?”

  Carson Drew sighed. “Not really. How was he connected?” Nancy explained and suddenly her father did remember him. “I didn’t think much of him.”

  “Oh? Why not?”

  “I seem to remember he always had a chip on his shoulder. Remember, I was kind of young at the time—I don’t have total recall about him or any of this.”

  A chip on his shoulder, Nancy thought. Neil Gray is definitely worth finding. “One more question, Dad.”

  “Shoot.”

  “John Harrington had a chauffeur. A man named Charles Ogden.” Nancy crossed her fingers. “Did you know of him? Or anything about him?”

  Her father laughed. “You’re talking to the wrong person, Nancy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why don’t you ask Hannah?” Carson Drew suggested. “After all, she and Charles Ogden were going together then.”

  Chapter

  Six

  HANNAH!” NANCY ALMOST dropped the phone. “Hannah was going with John Harrington’s chauffeur?”

  “That’s right,” her father said. “This was before she married Mr. Gruen, and before she came to work for us, of course. But they had been going together. In fact,” he added, “I’m pretty sure they had planned to get married.”

  Nancy’s mind was whirling. If Hannah had known Charles Ogden then, she might know where he was now. And he just might be the reason Hannah wanted Nancy to stay off the case. “I wonder why they didn’t get married.”

  “I don’t know,” Mr. Drew said. “In all the years I’ve known Hannah, she only spoke to me about him the one time. It was obvious she didn’t want me to pry, so I never asked. In fact, you probably shouldn’t mention to her that we had this talk. She might feel betrayed.”

  But I have to ask, Nancy thought. I just hope she’ll talk to me.

  “Well, it sounds as if you’ve got your hands full there,” Carson Drew went on. “Be careful and let me know what happens. And remember about Hannah.”

  “I will, Dad,” Nancy promised. “I’m glad you called.”

  After she hung up, Nancy sat on her bed, thinking about Hannah. She didn’t know what surprised her more—the fact that Hannah had once had a boyfriend—other than Mr. Gruen, of course—or the fact that Hannah’s boyfriend had been Charles Ogden.

  Don’t be stupid, Nancy, she told herself. Why shouldn’t Hannah have had a boyfriend? She was young once, and she must have been good-looking. Guys probably had fallen all over themselves whenever they had seen her.

  But Hannah had fallen for Charles Ogden. The same Charles Ogden who drove for the Harringtons and then left town right after the police investigation. Had Hannah known why he left? Was that why she had been so afraid when Nancy mentioned the case?

  Nancy got up and stepped into a pair of jeans. She’d just pulled a big, purple sweatshirt over her head when she heard the kitchen door slam. Hannah, she thought, home from the supermarket.

  Barefoot, Nancy padded down the stairs and into the Drews’ bright kitchen. Three grocery bags were on the table, and Hannah was standing at the refrigerator, putting away milk and eggs and vegetables.

  “Hi,” Nancy said. “Want some help?”

  Hannah smiled. “Try the middle bag,” she suggested. “It’s got the pretzels in it.”

  Nancy found the bag and dug in. One hand full of pretzels, she used her other one to stack cans of tuna and tomato sauce in the pantry.

  When the two of them were finished putting the groceries away, Nancy grabbed another handful of pretzels and sat down at the table. “Hannah,” she said seriously, “there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  “Oh?” Hannah’s eyes showed concern. “Nothing’s wrong, I hope.”

  “No, not really.” Nancy played nervously with a pretzel. “Look, I promise I wasn’t trying to, but I accidentally found out about you and Charles Ogden.”

  Hannah closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, Nancy couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

  “Hannah, I’m sorry to have to ask,” Nancy said, “but whatever you know about him could be important. Please, won’t you tell me what you can?”

  Hannah took a long time thinking about it, but finally she nodded and sat down at the table. “I should have known that if you were on the case, you’d find out,” she said with a small smile. “
All right, what do you want to know?”

  “Whatever you can tell me.”

  Hannah thought for a minute. “I’d been dating Charlie for almost a year,” she said quietly, “when he started talking about our getting married. But, we couldn’t get married right away—we needed to save money for a home first.”

  Nancy smiled. “Did you want to marry him?”

  “I thought I did, at the time.” Hannah got up and poured two glasses of iced tea from the refrigerator. She took a sip of hers and then went on. “Charlie had a plan. He’d been working for the Harringtons for a while, and he said they seemed pleased with him. So he was going to ask them for a raise.”

  “And what happened?” Nancy asked.

  “John Harrington refused,” Hannah told her. “Charlie came to me that night—the night Mr. Harrington died—and told me what had happened. He was upset, naturally. But by the time he had to get back to Harrington House, he was calm. We’d talked it all out and decided it wouldn’t hurt us to wait awhile longer to get married.”

  “Charles never told you anything about what he saw when he went back to Harrington House?”

  “Nothing,” Hannah said quickly.

  Had Charles really calmed down about not getting the raise? Nancy wondered. Or could he have been angry enough to kill Harrington? The only problem with that was that Ogden had driven Mayor Abbott home that night, and the mayor had confirmed it.

  “Hannah,” she said, “do you mind if I ask you why you and Charles never did get married?”

  Hannah stood up, picked up her empty glass, and put it in the dishwasher. “Things just didn’t work out between us,” she said over her shoulder. “That’s all. You know, sometimes you think a person is the only one for you, and then after a while you discover he’s not. If I’d married Charlie, I’d never have met Mr. Gruen—and I had a wonderful marriage with him. Now,” she said briskly, “I’m going to go out in the yard and see if the ground’s ready for the peas and carrots.”

  “Okay, Hannah. Thanks for talking to me.”

  “Of course.”

  “By the way,” Nancy said, watching Hannah pull on her gardening gloves, “was Charles Ogden good-looking?”

  “Oh, yes.” Hannah smiled, as if she could see him. “He had bright black eyes and wavy dark hair and a dimple in his chin. All the girls were crazy about him, but he used to laugh when anyone told him he was handsome.”

  “He did?” Nancy asked. “Why?”

  “Because he was short,” Hannah said, heading for the back door. “He couldn’t have been more than an inch taller than I am.”

  • • •

  “So he was short,” Ned said, taking a slice of pizza with everything on it. “All that means is he wasn’t driving that black car today. He still could have killed John Harrington.”

  “I know,” Nancy agreed. She picked a mushroom off her pizza and popped it into her mouth. “I guess it was too much to hope for.”

  Nancy and Ned were in Dino’s, River Heights’s busiest pizza place. After talking to Hannah, Nancy had driven over to the Nickersons’ and talked to Ned’s parents about Neil Gray. They had worked for Gray’s campaign because they were against John Harrington, but they’d thought Gray was a very unpleasant man. “Always looking over his shoulder,” Mr. Nickerson said. “Always thinking everybody was out to get him.”

  Nancy had thanked them. Then, because she was hungry, and because she had wanted to be with him, she invited Ned to Dino’s so she could tell him everything she’d learned about the case. What she wound up telling him was everything she hadn’t learned.

  “Your mother doesn’t know where Neil Gray is,” she said. “Your father doesn’t know where Neil Gray is, and Hannah doesn’t know where Charles Ogden is.”

  “Well, cheer up,” Ned told her. “At least my parents said that Neil Gray was tall.”

  “Tallish,” Nancy reminded him. “Your mother said tallish. He doesn’t sound like somebody whose head would graze the roof of a car.”

  “You only have Brenda’s word for that,” Ned pointed out. “And she’s hardly the most reliable witness.”

  “I suppose.” Nancy frowned at her pizza slice, which was now picked clean of everything but the cheese. Shaking her head, she took a new slice and bit into it. “Let’s forget the case for now,” she said. “Let’s enjoy Dino’s.”

  Ned leaned back and looked around. Dino’s was packed and noisy as usual, with young people laughing and calling to one another, and the jukebox playing full blast.

  “Uh-oh,” Ned said suddenly. “I’m not sure we’re going to be able to enjoy Dino’s after all. Look who’s here.”

  Nancy looked in the direction he was pointing and saw Brenda Carlton, her black hair gleaming against a red silk blouse, heading for their table.

  “Well, Nancy,” Brenda said, “taking time off from the case? I’m surprised at you.”

  Nancy took a sip of soda and tried to ignore her, but Brenda obviously had something on her mind. “I wouldn’t waste too much time if I were you,” she went on. “You just might find I’ve solved the case while you were taking a pizza break.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Nancy asked.

  “It means I’ve got a lead,” Brenda told her. “An important lead. It’s too bad we’re rivals, isn’t it? Otherwise I might let you in on it.” With a gloating smile, Brenda left the table.

  “I just lost my appetite,” Nancy said as she watched Brenda walk away.

  “Don’t believe a word she says,” Ned advised. “She’s just trying to get to you.”

  “I know,” Nancy agreed. Still, she couldn’t help being curious. Had Brenda really discovered something important about the case? “I really am finished eating, though,” she told Ned. “As soon as you’re done, we’ll go.”

  Nancy was quiet as she drove Ned home. Finally he said, “Hey, Nancy, can’t you forget about the case just for a little while?”

  Nancy looked over at him, wishing he didn’t know her so well. You’ve done it again, she told herself. Gotten so involved in a case that you practically forgot he was there. “Sorry,” she said. “I was thinking about the case, but I was thinking about Hannah, too. Something she said was kind of sad.”

  “What was it?”

  “When I asked her why she and Charles Ogden never married. She said that things like that happen. You think someone is perfect for you, and then after a while, you find out he’s not.”

  Pulling up in front of the Nickersons’ house, Nancy glanced at Ned again. What Hannah had said made her wonder if that was what Ned was feeling about her. Something was still missing in their relationship. They just weren’t as close as they had been. Nancy couldn’t help wondering if Ned had decided that she wasn’t the one for him anymore.

  “Well, I guess things like that do happen,” Ned said. “And it is sad, but it’s better to find out sooner rather than later, right?”

  Nancy nodded, feeling miserable. “Right.”

  “Anyway, thanks for the pizza, Nancy. And remember, don’t let Brenda Carlton get to you.” Ned started to open his door, then leaned across the seat and gave Nancy a kiss on the cheek. “See you,” he said. Then he got out, slammed the door behind him, and trotted up the sidewalk to his house.

  Well, he did kiss you, Nancy thought as she drove home. Somehow, though, a brotherly kiss didn’t exactly make her want to jump for joy. By the time Nancy pulled the Mustang into her garage, she was furious with herself.

  You should have grabbed him and kissed him, she thought, climbing out of the car. Who says you have to wait for him to make the first move?

  Disgusted with herself, Nancy pushed the button to lower the garage door. It came down with a screech and a thump. As it settled into place, the garage went completely dark.

  Groping, Nancy made her way along the wall, searching for the door that led into the house. Then she heard it—by the workbench on the other side of the garage—a shuffling sound of someone moving, and then the so
und of someone breathing.

  Nancy froze. She wasn’t alone in the pitch-black garage. Someone was with her.

  Chapter

  Seven

  FOR A MOMENT the garage was completely still, except for the sounds of two people breathing. Nancy knew she was only a few feet away from the door into the house, but she wasn’t sure she should run for it. Whoever was with her might have a gun, and once she opened the door, the light from inside would make her a perfect target.

  Trying to keep her voice from shaking, Nancy called out, “Who’s there? What do you want?”

  “I came to warn you, Miss Drew.” The whisper was deep and harsh, and it made Nancy shiver.

  “Warn me about what?” she asked.

  “The Harrington case. It could be dangerous.”

  “You mean I might get hurt, and you wanted to warn me about it?” Nancy said. “I guess I should be grateful, but somehow, trapping me in my own garage doesn’t seem like a friendly warning.”

  “This isn’t a joke, Miss Drew.” The voice was still a whisper, but Nancy could hear the anger in it. “Stop your investigation of John Harrington’s death.”

  “Why should I?”

  “It belongs to the past. It’s over and done with.”

  Hah! Nancy thought. If it’s over and done with, then why are you so upset about it?

  “Enough lives have been ruined,” the voice went on. “Stop your investigation now.”

  “And if I don’t?” Nancy asked.

  There was a soft chuckle. “You said it earlier—you might get hurt. Your life might be ruined, too.”

  By then Nancy’s eyes had gotten used to the dark, but even though she could make out the shape of the workbench, she still couldn’t tell exactly where the man was.

  “Now,” the voice said, “I want you to do just as I say. If you do, you won’t get hurt—not tonight, anyway.”

  Thanks a lot, Nancy thought.

  “Get in your car,” the voice directed, “and lie facedown on the front seat. When you hear the garage door open, don’t look up. Remember, I’ll be watching you. If you look up, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”