The Perfect Plot Read online

  Whoever it was had to know the tunnels and passages very well. He or she had managed to find the way back to the ballroom, in the dark, and get there while Nancy was still fumbling around in the maze of tunnels. Who knew the house that well?

  Patrick, of course, had spent much of his childhood here. Kate had worked for Dorothea for years, then taken on the job of converting Mystery Mansion into a museum. Vanessa and Bill had both been close to the novelist—they had probably visited the house often.

  Nancy’s thoughts were interrupted as the Skeletons’ lead singer announced that the band was taking a break. As everyone clapped, Nancy edged through the crowd to George’s side.

  “Where have you been?” George demanded. “Professor Coining was driving me nuts! He wouldn’t let me stop dancing!”

  Nancy glanced around. “Let’s go over by the windows. It’s less crowded there,” she said. “I need to talk.”

  As soon as they were in a secluded spot, Nancy told George what had happened in the underground passages.

  “That’s awful!” George exclaimed, horrified. “Nancy, you could have been killed! Do you have any idea who it was?”

  Nancy shook her head. “I was hoping you could help me figure it out. Did you see anyone leave the party?”

  “I can tell you for sure that Professor Coining didn’t leave the party,” George replied, rolling her eyes. “The way he kept spinning me around, I could barely keep track of where I was, much less anybody else.”

  “Well, whoever it was obviously wanted to scare me off,” Nancy said. “Everybody who’s staying here this weekend heard Kate ask us to find the person who stole the gold figurines. The question is, was the person trying to scare me off the case in general, or specifically trying to scare me away from exploring the secret passages?”

  “You mean, you think the figures might be hidden somewhere in the passages?” George asked.

  “I wish I knew,” Nancy said. She didn’t bother to hide her frustration. “They could be anywhere—the passages, the summerhouse, the rose garden, the maze. . . . This place was made for hiding things.”

  When George didn’t say anything, Nancy looked at her. “Earth to George,” she said, waving her hands in front of George’s eyes. George just stared straight ahead.

  “The golden antelope,” she murmured. “It’s just possible. . . . Why didn’t I think of it before?”

  “Think of what?” Nancy asked.

  “Is there a maze somewhere near the house?” George asked. Nancy told her about the maze of hedges she’d seen that morning. “We’ve got to check it out first thing tomorrow!” George exclaimed.

  Nancy planted her hands on her hips. “George, will you please tell me what you’re talking about?”

  “The Golden Antelope,” George repeated. “It’s one of Dorothea Burden’s best novels, all about the theft of this really valuable gold statue, and a lot of crooks come to search for it.”

  “I think I saw the movie,” Nancy said.

  George nodded distractedly. “The point is, the golden antelope was hidden in a secret compartment at the base of a statue of Mercury, at the center of the maze. Did you know that Mercury was the god of thieves?”

  “I didn’t even know there was one, but I see what you’re getting at,” said Nancy. “If our thief is following Dorothea’s book, then we should find the figurines in that maze. George, you’re brilliant!”

  George’s cheeks reddened. “Even if we do recover them, we still won’t know who stole them.”

  She fell silent as Kate walked up to join them.

  “I spoke to Julian,” Kate said with a touch of defiance in her voice. “I told him that you’d found out about him. He said it didn’t matter. He swore he had nothing to do with stealing those figurines, and I believe him. I don’t care whether you do or not.” Before Nancy or George could say a word, Kate took off.

  George focused on Kate until she was out of sight. “I don’t know, Nan. I think she’s telling the truth.”

  “Maybe,” Nancy said, “but we can’t rule out any suspect at this point.”

  Clapping rose up from the crowd as the Skeletons returned to the stage, picked up their instruments, and launched into a fast song. George began tapping her foot, but Nancy was too preoccupied with the case to think about dancing.

  “You know, I’d like to take a look at The Golden Antelope,” she told George. “There’s bound to be one around somewhere.”

  “There’s probably a copy in the library,” George suggested. “Anyway, here comes Professor Coining. Let’s get out of here!”

  The lighting in the library was so dim that Nancy could hardly read the lettering on the backs of the rows of books. She didn’t want to turn on more lights and alert anyone to their presence. She pulled down a book at random and opened it. The title page, in old-fashioned type, said the book was “A true and faithful narrative of the dreadful murther of Sir Edmund Bury Godfrey.” The date at the bottom was 1679.

  “This place is awesome,” Nancy told George, carefully replacing the antique book on the shelf. “I’d like to spend a few weeks in here!”

  “I don’t see any of Dorothea’s books,” George reported. “They’re probably kept somewhere else.”

  Nancy suddenly snapped her fingers, recalling the bookcase that masked the secret doorway in the little file room off Dorothea’s study. “Of course!” she said. “I know where they are. Come on.”

  Nancy led the way out of the library and down the hall toward Dorothea’s study. As they drew near, she stopped suddenly and put her fingers to her lips. The study door was slightly ajar, and a ray of light shone around it. Nancy was sure that the room had been dark before. And hadn’t she shut the door behind her? Someone was in there!

  Moving as silently as they could, the two girls crept up to the door and peered around its edge. Next to Nancy, George stifled a gasp.

  Professor Coining was kneeling in front of Dorothea’s safe! He had a scrap of paper in his left hand. With his right he was slowly turning the combination dial, first to the left, then to the right. He paused, then gave the chrome handle a hard twist and pulled. The safe door swung open.

  George made a small movement, brushing her trench coat against the wood of the door. The noise was very faint, but the professor obviously heard it. He spun around and stared in the direction of the door. Nancy took an involuntary step backward.

  Professor Coining listened intently for another moment. Then he thrust his right hand into the pocket of his jacket and started across the room, straight toward Nancy and George!

  Chapter

  Eleven

  LOOK OUT! He’s got a weapon!” Nancy gasped. She pushed George back from the study door with her elbow.

  The door swung open, and Professor Coining seemed to fill the opening. His eyes widened as he recognized Nancy and George. Then an expression of relief came over his face. He took his hand from inside his coat pocket and let it fall to his side.

  “Ah, my favorite dancing partners,” he said. “What brings you two here?”

  “We saw you in Dorothea’s study just now,” Nancy said. “We saw you open her safe.”

  Cautiously he replied, “Oh?”

  “We both saw you,” George said. “How did you know the combination?”

  “Oh, that,” he said dismissively. “Shall we go inside? I hate carrying on an important conversation in a public corridor.”

  “All right,” Nancy finally agreed.

  The three of them went into the study, and the professor closed the door behind them. He immediately began talking.

  “I found the combination on this index card,” he said, reaching into his pocket.

  Nancy stiffened. “Not so fast,” she said, grabbing his right wrist with both hands.

  He slowly produced a three-by-five card and held it out to George. She glanced at it and said, “It looks like a safe combination, all right.”

  Nancy was still grasping the professor’s wrist. “Now the
weapon,” she said. “Take it out slowly and drop it on the floor.”

  With a sigh, Professor Coining reached inside his jacket and took out a flimsy, plastic-handled paring knife. “I borrowed it from the kitchen,” he explained as he let it fall to the ground. “With all the mayhem in this house, I felt I should be prepared to defend myself if necessary.”

  Nancy took the card from George. “Where did you find this?” she asked dubiously.

  “In the most obvious place imaginable,” Professor Coining told her. “It was taped to the underside of one of Dorothea’s desk drawers. Anybody who has read as much sensational fiction as I have knows to search there first.”

  George was already halfway to the desk. “Which drawer?” she asked.

  “The second one down on the right.”

  George pulled out the drawer and peered at its underside. “Two strips of cellophane tape, about three inches apart,” she reported. “He could be telling the truth.”

  “Of course I am,” he said indignantly. “May I go now?”

  “Not yet,” Nancy told him. “What were you looking for in the safe?”

  Professor Coining grew suddenly uncomfortable. “Well, if you must know, I was looking for that wretched manuscript,” he finally said. “The one Maxine told us about yesterday, before she was killed. Most of my book about Dorothea is already at the compositors, being set into type. I have to see this new manuscript, to make sure it doesn’t contradict any of my important points about Dorothea and her work. If it does, and I let my book come out uncorrected, I’ll be a laughingstock.”

  He seemed sincere, but Nancy was still suspicious. “What made you think you’d find it in the safe?” she asked. “Why not in Maxine’s room? She had it last, didn’t she?” Nancy had purposely not told the other guests about Erika’s theft of the manuscript, so as far as Professor Coining knew, Maxine was the last to have it.

  “I did look there,” the professor admitted. “Just before I came down to the party. It was simply a matter of breaking that ridiculous paper seal the police had put on the door. But the manuscript wasn’t there. I searched carefully for it.”

  George nodded. “So when you didn’t find it you figured that maybe she gave it back to Kate.”

  “That’s right,” Professor Coining said. “Maxine did promise to return it, and I thought Kate would put the manuscript in the safe. Is there anything else I can tell you? I’d like to get back to the party before the band calls it a night.

  “What do you say, George,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. “Shall we go cut a rug?”

  “Oh, no! No, thank you,” George said quickly. “I—I have a headache.”

  “So do I,” Nancy said as the professor turned to ask her. She didn’t even bother trying to sound convincing.

  “It’s your loss, ladies,” he retorted, then headed for the door.

  As soon as he was gone, Nancy went over to the safe and peered inside. No manuscript. Then, nudging the door shut with her knee, she turned to George and said, “Maybe he knew the combination to the safe all along. How do we know he didn’t steal the figurines?”

  George shrugged. “We don’t, I guess. But it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t know about Erika taking that manuscript, which means he’s not the one who took it from Erika’s room.”

  “We’re still not any closer to solving this case,” Nancy pointed out. “But maybe there’s a clue in that book you mentioned.”

  Hurrying to the small file room, she scanned the titles in the bookcase. The Golden Antelope was there, in five languages and in several editions. She pulled down a copy of the American paperback and put it in the pocket of her cape.

  “Why don’t we go back to the party now?” George suggested. “I was really having a lot of fun, until I got snared by the Dancing Professor!”

  “Great idea,” Nancy said.

  As they went back down the hallway toward the ballroom, Nancy saw a familiar-looking figure walking ahead of them. Hearing their footsteps, he glanced over his shoulder, and Nancy recognized Julian’s well-trimmed beard.

  He spun around and angrily stalked toward them. “You’ve been following me!” he said. “Well, it had better stop, right now!”

  “We weren’t following you!” George declared indignantly. “We were just walking down the hall, minding our own business.”

  Julian ignored her, and continued to stare at Nancy. “Kate told me that you found out about me,” he said. “That was a long time ago. I’m completely legit now. I don’t care if you believe me or not, but stop trailing me!”

  He pointed an accusing finger at Nancy. “Don’t bother denying it. I saw you follow me outside before. And I heard you behind me in the tunnel.”

  Nancy couldn’t believe he was admitting he’d been in the tunnel. “Now that you mention it, just what were you doing there?”

  “Hunting for those stupid figurines, of course. I knew that the longer they were missing, the surer it was that someone was going to find out about—well, you know—and give me some major grief.”

  “Why the tunnels?” George asked. “This place is filled with other possible hiding places.”

  “I was up pretty early this morning,” Julian replied. “I was looking out the window of my room when I saw Erika Olsen go into the summerhouse, with a big tote bag over her shoulder. From the way she kept glancing back behind her, I knew she was up to something. And, of course, I knew all about the hidden tunnel entrance in the summerhouse. So I figured she was probably taking the figures down there to hide them.”

  “Why her?” Nancy demanded. “She didn’t even get to Mystery Mansion yesterday until after five o’clock. The figurines were probably stolen a little after noon.”

  Julian shrugged. “With all the commotion here yesterday, she could have sneaked onto the property. She had as good an opportunity to take the figures as anyone.”

  He had a point, Nancy realized. Still . . . “Without any corroboration, that story won’t hold up,” she told him.

  “I’m not a detective,” Julian said bitterly. “I’m just an innocent—repeat, innocent—bystander.” With that, he stalked away.

  “What do you think?” George finally asked.

  “I don’t know,” Nancy confessed. “Erika was in that secret passage this morning to get to Maxine’s room. So maybe she was around yesterday, too.”

  “Maybe Maxine knew Erika stole the figurines and accused her. Maybe Erika did kill her,” George said in a rush. “All that stuff about the manuscript could have just been a cover-up.”

  “I don’t know,” Nancy said slowly. “The manuscript is missing.” She shook her head in frustration. “Come on. Let’s head back to the party. Maybe some dancing will help clear our heads.”

  • • •

  Nancy was running through a constantly changing maze of tunnels. She didn’t dare look behind her. Something she couldn’t name was close behind, and gaining on her. Suddenly the tunnel ahead ended abruptly at a heavy iron door. She tugged at the handle, but it didn’t move. Desperately she pressed the pearl button to the right of the door. A buzzer sounded, impossibly far away, but no one came. She pressed again. The buzzer was louder this time, as if it were right next to her ear. . . .

  Nancy forced her eyes open and groped for the phone on the bedside table. “Hello?” she mumbled into it.

  “Hi, Nancy. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  Nancy smiled sleepily as she recognized Ned’s deep voice. “What time is it?”

  “It’s after eight. I wanted to catch you before you went off to some mystery lecture. How’s the conference going?”

  Nancy sat up, pushed the pillow behind her back, and switched the cordless phone to her other hand. “So far we’ve got one murder, one case of safecracking, and one other important theft,” she reported.

  After a short silence, Ned asked, “You mean, you’ve been discussing classic crimes?”

  “No, we’ve got some real ones.” She quickly filled him
in on what had been going on.

  “Wow,” Ned said. “Well, listen, Nan, if you’re on a case, maybe I should let you go.”

  “I’ve always got time for you, Nickerson,” Nancy said quickly. “So how’s everything at Emerson?”

  They talked for about five minutes. When George showed signs of waking up, Nancy told Ned, “I’d better go. I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too,” Ned said. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

  “Don’t worry, I always do. ’Bye.” She blew a kiss into the handset before turning it off.

  “Who was that?” George’s sleepy voice asked from the other bed.

  Nancy didn’t answer. She was staring down at the cordless phone in her hand. A wild idea was tickling the edges of her mind.

  “George!” she exclaimed.

  George propped herself up on one elbow and rubbed her eyes. “What is it?” she asked.

  “I think I know who stole the figurines!”

  Chapter

  Twelve

  WHERE ARE WE GOING?” George asked, still half asleep as she followed Nancy down Mystery Mansion’s main staircase.

  The two girls had dressed in record time, throwing on jeans and long-sleeved shirts.

  “I’ll explain in a minute,” Nancy replied.

  She hurried down the hallway to Dorothea’s study and tried the knob. It was unlocked, just as it had been the night before. Pushing it open, she told George, “Wait for me here. I won’t be long.”

  Nancy didn’t take the time to explain and took off at a run, returning to the second floor.

  Bill Denton’s door was three down from the landing, in the opposite direction from Nancy and George’s room. Nancy tapped softly on it and waited. No answer. She knocked more vigorously, but there still was no response. Good, she thought. He must have gone into town for the Sunday papers, the way he said he was going to. She tried the knob—the door was locked.