037 Last Dance Read online

  Smoke was coming in beneath the door now. Nancy found an old potato sack and tried to block up the crack. The fire was close now. It was getting hard to breathe.

  Nancy knew their time had almost run out.

  Chapter

  Eleven

  NANCY COULDN’T GIVE UP. With tears streaming down her cheeks from the smoke, she groped along the cellar walls. Suddenly she bumped into a large filing cabinet. Running her fingers behind it, she felt something sticking out from the wall. Could it be—?

  “I think there’s a window behind this cabinet!” Nancy cried out excitedly. “Come on, Laurie, let’s try to move this out of the way—”

  The smoke was thick in the room now, and the heat of the fire was heavy. Nancy felt as though she was smothering.

  But the two girls pushed and shoved until the cabinet had been moved aside. Behind it was a grimy, narrow little window.

  Nancy wiped the window with her sleeve and saw booted feet outside. Firefighters! She grabbed the casement in both hands and rattled it. “Help!” she cried with Laurie joining in.

  The firefighters heard them. One knelt and shouted, “Stand back from the window and cover your heads!”

  Nancy put an arm around Laurie’s waist and the two of them stepped back with their backs to the window, their arms covering their faces. The splintering of glass was a welcome sound.

  By now, Laurie was only half-conscious. One firefighter lifted her out through the opening where the window had been and carried her a safe distance from the endangered building. Another helped Nancy to scramble out. She coughed as the clean air reached her lungs.

  “Is anybody still inside?” she asked one of the firefighters.

  “Except for Mr. Villiers, you and your friend were the last. Maybe you should sit down for a minute, miss.”

  Nancy shook her head, scanning the crowd for Ned, Bess, and George. She knew her friends would be worried and wanted to reassure them as soon as possible. Starting toward her car, she passed Pam Hastings.

  Pam’s sooty face was streaked with tears as she stared bleakly at the building. Quiet sobs shook her shoulders.

  Nancy had just spotted her friends when there was an outburst of cheering behind her. She turned to see Jon being led out of the building by two firefighters. His clothes were torn and sooty, but even from a distance Nancy could tell he was fine.

  She was glad he was safe, but it did seem odd that, although he’d been inside the burning building the longest of anyone, he was relatively clean and uninjured. What had he been doing in there?

  And what about Laurie? How had she gotten locked in the cellar? And how had she been dazed?

  Nancy didn’t like the conclusions she was coming to, but she couldn’t ignore them. Laurie had nearly died and not by accident. Someone had locked her in the cellar, while the building was going up in flames. That same someone may have set the fire in the first place.

  “Nancy!” Ned interrupted her thoughts. He took her shoulders in his hands and looked down at her face. “Are you all right?” Nancy nodded.

  Bess and George ran up then, too. “What happened?” George wanted to know.

  “We were about to go back in there for you!” Bess cried.

  Nancy let out a long sigh and ran one hand through her hair, Looking at her fingers, she realized that she was probably covered with black soot from head to toe. She explained how she had found Adam and then Laurie.

  “You found her in the cellar?” Ned said, his hands still gripping Nancy’s shoulders firmly.

  “I know it’s strange, but it seems as if someone could have hit her over the head and left her there. . . .”

  There was a stunned silence while Bess, George, and Ned absorbed what Nancy had said.

  “That’s terrible,” whispered Bess.

  “That same person could have set the fire,” George speculated.

  “Right,” Nancy agreed. She glanced back at the building. Laurie was sitting up on the grass now, a paramedic kneeling beside her, waiting to see if she needed more oxygen.

  Nancy and the others made their way through the crowd to Laurie’s side, but Jon had reached her first. He was holding her as though he would never let her go, when Nancy joined them.

  Laurie looked up at Nancy with an expression of both sadness and fear in her eyes. “If it hadn’t been for you—” she started, but Nancy silenced her with a shake of her head.

  “You would have done the same for me,” she said.

  “I’m not sure I would have been brave enough,” Laurie replied. She was standing up-right now and leaning against Jon for support. “Thank you, Nancy. Thank you for saving my life.”

  “It’s okay, Laurie,” Nancy said quietly. “Just, tell me what happened. Did you hear anyone—see anyone?”

  Laurie was shaking her head. “No. The last thing I remember is standing in the hallway outside Jon’s office. There was this sudden pain at the back of my head, then everything went black. Next thing I knew, you were calling to me from somewhere.”

  Nancy was disappointed, but not surprised. She’d had a feeling that Laurie had been attacked and couldn’t have seen her attacker. She turned her gaze to Jon. “You were in the building a long time,” she observed.

  Jon looked confused, tired, and relieved. “I was looking for Laurie. I guess I just checked all the wrong places. Thanks for finding her, Nancy.”

  Nancy nodded and turned away, exhausted. She would sort through everything later—all she wanted at that moment was a hot bath, a few of Hannah’s cookies, and a good night’s sleep. Ned’s arm was strong around her waist.

  “Once again,” remarked a shrill feminine voice, “our own Nancy Drew is at center stage. You’re a regular Wonder Woman.”

  Nancy couldn’t believe her bad luck. Standing. before her was Brenda Carlton, She and Ned started to move around the young reporter, but Brenda Mocked their way.

  “Exactly what happened here tonight?” she demanded.

  Nancy gave her a wry smile. “I would think that would be obvious, Brenda,” she said sweetly. Nancy lowered her voice to a confidential whisper, and leaned toward Brenda as though to share a big secret. “There was a fire.”

  Brenda’s face puckered with annoyance. “I know that!” she sputtered.

  “Nothing gets by you, does it, Brenda?” George asked.

  By this time Brenda had recovered her composure. “Not much,” she said, smoothing the lapels of her jacket. Then she shoved past Nancy to Jon.

  Flashes blinded everyone within a dozen feet as Brenda’s photographer snapped pictures of Laurie and Jon. The light of the blaze made it seem like midday. “What started this fire, Mr. Villiers?” Brenda asked, rapid-fire. “Or, should I say, who started this fire?”

  The color drained from Jon’s face. “I don’t know,” he said. “It must have been an accident.”

  “An accident?” Brenda repeated, raising one eyebrow.

  Laurie huddled close to Jon, looking baffled and afraid. Nancy knew her friend didn’t believe the fire had been an accident. Neither had the blow to Laurie’s head. “Can’t we all go home and forget about this?” she asked Brenda. “It’s been an awful night, after all—”

  “I’ll be happy to answer your questions some other time,” Jon said, putting an arm around Laurie and starting to walk away.

  Brenda stopped them easily. “I’ve been doing some research on you, Mr. Villiers,” she said, but she tossed a malicious smile in Nancy’s direction even as she spoke. “It seems you had a whole other life in Chicago.”

  Jon stopped, his back rigid. Nancy watched as he turned slowly to face Brenda.

  “Please,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t. Not now, not tonight.”

  But Brenda was on a roll and she wasn’t about to back down. “It seems that Mr. Villiers is a star,” she announced to the crowd gathered around. “I can call you Jon, can’t I—Jon?”

  Some of the tension seemed to leave Jon. He sighed and shrugged wearily. Laurie was looking up
at him.

  Nancy took Brenda by the arm and pulled her aside, where they could talk privately. “What’s going on here, Brenda?” she demanded. “Why did you say Jon is a star?”

  Brenda examined her perfectly manicured fingernails. She didn’t like giving Nancy information, but apparently her need to feel important got the best of her. “I got curious about Jon Villiers and checked back issues of the Chicago newspapers. Jon was a celebrity of sorts. He and his partner, Sheila Day, were big on the dance circuit in the Windy City a few years ago. They got a lot of publicity and won a few prizes-things like that. He and the girl were a sensation.”

  “Sheila Day,” Nancy muttered to herself, remembering the love letters she’d found in Jon’s apartment. “Thanks, Brenda.”

  Brenda scowled at her and walked back to the others. Nancy returned to Ned’s side.

  Brenda had taken up her questioning again. “Weren’t you a professional dancer, Mr. Villiers?”

  Jon looked down at Laurie for a moment before answering, in a bleak tone. “Yes. But I don’t see what that has to do with anything—”

  Laurie was still gazing up at Jon.

  “You had a partner, a Sheila Day, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “There was a rumor you were engaged to be married. Whatever happened between you two?”

  Jon sighed. “I haven’t seen Sheila—or heard from her—in over two years. Just leave me alone, will you?” With that, Jon put his arm around Laurie again and hurried off.

  Nancy watched them walk away. She knew Jon was lying about not being in touch with Sheila. The last of her letters had been dated only a couple of months earlier. What was he covering up?

  “Let’s go,” Ned said softly, interrupting her thoughts. “It’s late.”

  Nancy nodded and said, “Goodbye, Brenda. And thanks for the help.”

  Brenda was steaming, but Nancy only smiled at her and then walked beside Ned to her car, Bess and George trailing behind them.

  “Maybe I’d better drive,” George suggested.

  Suddenly Nancy was very tired. “That sounds good to me,” she said.

  Ned gave her a light kiss on the forehead. “Your adventures are going to be the death of me, Drew,” he said with a sigh.

  Nancy smiled wearily. “You seem to be holding up pretty well,” she reasoned.

  Ned laughed. “Good night, Nan,” he said. “I’ll call you in the morning. Drive carefully,” he added to George. “Precious cargo.”

  Bess climbed into the back of Nancy’s Mustang, while George took the wheel and Nancy claimed the passenger’s seat.

  “I thought you were a goner this time,” Bess said seriously.

  Nancy nodded. “For a while there I thought so, too,” she agreed. “Especially when Laurie and I were trapped in that cellar, with the fire getting closer and closer.”

  “That must have been terrifying,” George agreed.

  Nancy settled deeper into the seat with a heavy sigh. “And now there are more questions than ever,” she muttered. Who tried to kill Laurie? Who started the fire? Would Jon Villiers really have destroyed his own club, whatever the reason? What was he trying to hide? Was Sheila Day alive, or had he murdered her? After all, Nancy had heard Pam call Jon a convicted criminal. Maybe she knew something the rest of them didn’t. Why did he lie earlier, saying he hadn’t seen or heard from Sheila in two years?

  And then Nancy remembered Laurie, helpless in that cellar. Whoever attacked Laurie had failed—which only meant that he would probably try again.

  Chapter

  Twelve

  THE NEXT DAY was bright and sunny, but Nancy woke up in anything but a sunny mood. The case had definitely taken a deadly turn.

  She thought about what to do while she showered, dressed, and ate a quick breakfast. Then she was on her way to pick up George. Ned was working for the day and had called to tell Nancy to be careful.

  Once George was in the car, Nancy asked for her advice. “Do you suppose Jon will admit, anything if I confront him?”

  George thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Probably not.”

  “Well, I’m out of ideas,” Nancy said.

  “If it’s your last hope, give it a shot.”

  Nancy smiled and turned her car in the direction of the club. There were several official cars in the club’s parking lot, along with half a dozen ordinary ones. “Looks like we’re not the only ones here to investigate,” Nancy said, flipping the engine off and removing the ignition key. From the outside, Moves didn’t look too bad. She wondered how extensive the damage was inside.

  “I know you, Nan. You were awake half the night trying to figure this out, weren’t you?” George asked, looking at the charred building as she spoke.

  Nancy nodded. She was feeling sad to think how her conclusions would affect Laurie. “I’m beginning to think Jon set that fire himself,” she said, without moving from behind the wheel. “Remember that half-finished letter to his uncle I found in his apartment the other night? And then there was the conversation I overheard outside Jon’s office. He needs money fast, and the insurance on Moves might be enough to cover his debt.”

  “What are you going to do?” George wanted to know. “After all, you can’t just walk up to Jon and ask if he’s committed arson lately.”

  Nancy smiled sadly at that. “You’re right. But I’m hoping to get him to explain a few other things—like what happened to Sheila Day. He was being evasive last night, George. Sheik wrote to him just two months ago.”

  George nodded, saying nothing.

  “Sheila expected to marry Jon,” Nancy said, thinking aloud. “Although her last letter was a little desperate—it sounded as though Jon had asked her to back off for a while—all the dreams and hopes were still there. She even talked about what color the bridesmaids’ dresses would be.”

  George sat up straight in her seat. “Look who’s here,” she said dryly.

  Nancy followed her gaze and saw Brenda Carlton strolling confidently across the parking lot. She was carrying an expensive tape recorder with a microphone. “We’d better hurry,” Nancy said, quickly unfastening her seat belt and getting out of the car.

  She and George went into Moves by the side entrance. There was charred wood everywhere, but the floor and walls looked relatively .solid. The smell of water and burned wood was almost repugnant.

  Nancy asked George to distract Brenda for a few minutes while she found Jon and asked him some questions. George agreed, and the two girls went in separate directions.

  There were insurance investigators and representatives from the fire department all around. Nancy threaded her way through them until she found Jon.

  “This club meant everything to me,” Jon was telling a man in a suit. “What reason would I have to destroy it?”

  Nancy could think of one reason—to repay the guys he’d borrowed money from—but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t want Jon to realize how much she knew.

  The other man looked at Jon closely. “I’ll talk to you again later,” he said, and the words carried a warning. “Don’t go away.”

  Nancy stood facing Jon, her hands clasped behind her back. “Have they found out what caused the fire?” she asked.

  Jon looked exasperated. “No. But I think they think I set it myself.”

  Nancy tried not to let her own suspicion show. “What would give them that idea?”

  Jon sighed heavily. “There’s a lot of money involved,” he confessed.

  Nancy wanted to pursue that point, but she had to do it carefully. Jon had to trust her, maybe even feel as though he could confide in her. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

  Jon gave her such a grateful smile that she felt a little guilty. “Actually, there is. I’ve got to pick up some stuff from my apartment. I wouldn’t ask you to go for me again, but would you mind just hanging around, keeping an eye on the club while I’m gone?”

  Nancy nodded. “No problem.” What a golden opportuni
ty to search!

  As soon as Jon left, Nancy made her way toward his office. The door was open, so Nancy stepped inside, closing it quietly behind her. The smell of smoke hovered in the air here—but amazingly there was no real harm done to the room itself.

  Nancy searched the closet first, finding nothing except an old jacket and a lot of dust. From there, she went to the file cabinet and pulled open the top drawer. One by one, she flipped through every folder but found nothing. She moved on to the next drawer and then the next, with no luck. She almost didn’t search the desk, since she’d been through it before, but in the end, her natural curiosity won out. She was so busy that she didn’t hear the door open.

  “Looking for something?”

  Startled, Nancy raised her eyes to see Laurie standing in the doorway, glaring at her. Nancy closed the desk drawer calmly, but her heart was still pounding from the surprise of being caught. She didn’t answer Laurie’s question, since she wasn’t about to lie.

  Laurie folded her arms. “It would serve you right if I told Jon the truth—you only took this job so you could spy on him.”

  Nancy sat on the edge of Jon’s desk. “Last night somebody tried to kill you,” she reminded her friend. “It’s even, possible that the same person came back and shut the cellar door on us, knowing it wouldn’t open again. Don’t you want to find out what’s happening here?”

  Laurie bit her lip and closed the door, so that she and Nancy could talk in relative privacy. “Of course I do,” she said in an impatient whisper.

  “Think back to just before you were hit,” Nancy urged. “You must have seen or heard something—or maybe you smelled perfume or cologne—”

  But Laurie shook her head resolutely. “There was nothing. I remember being hit and vaguely remember being dragged into the cellar storeroom—whoever did it was strong—but that’s all there is.” She paused, her eyes round. “I’m scared, Nancy. I’m really scared. There was the noose, and someone tried to drown you at the lake, and now this.”