010 Buried Secrets Read online

  “Yes, I know all that,” Hannah agreed. “But I haven’t told you the worst part yet.”

  Even though she felt bad for Hannah, Nancy couldn’t help being excited. This could be her first break on the case. “What is it?” she asked.

  “After John Harrington died, Charlie acted very strangely,” Hannah said. “Oh, he didn’t pretend to be broken up over Mr. Harrington’s death, and I guess after the way he’d been treated, that wasn’t hard to understand.”

  “Then what was strange about the way he acted?”

  “He was nervous and excited,” Hannah explained. “As if he had a secret he couldn’t tell. And he said he’d come up with a way to get enough money so that we could get married.”

  “That doesn’t sound so awful,” Nancy said.

  “No, but whenever I asked how he was going to get the money, he wouldn’t tell me,” Hannah said. “He just said it looked like a sure thing.”

  “And you believed him?”

  “I didn’t know what to believe. I thought I was in love with him, but he was acting so differently. He’d always been so open, and now he was quiet, secretive.” Hannah looked as if she might start to cry. After a moment she said, “Charlie told me that if his plan worked, he might have to leave town for a while. He told me not to worry—that he’d come back for me.” She turned to face Nancy, her eyes bright with tears. “But,” she said softly, “he never came back.”

  Nancy felt terrible. She knew what Hannah was saying—that Charles Ogden killed John Harrington, helped himself to some money from his estate, then waited until the police investigation was over and skipped town to start a new life, leaving Hannah behind.

  Could he really have done it? Nancy wondered. The police reports had said that no money was missing, but there could have been some stashed away—in a place only a few people, including the chauffeur, knew about.

  But even if it had happened that way, Nancy couldn’t prove it. Not unless someone could point a finger at Charles Ogden. Hannah was suspicious, but suspicions didn’t count. Nancy needed proof, and she didn’t have it. Besides, nobody seemed to know where Ogden was, and if Nancy couldn’t find him, she knew she was right back where she’d started.

  “I’m glad you told me, Hannah,” she said softly. “I know how hard this must have been on you.”

  Hannah was calmer then. “It took a long time for me to accept that Charlie had run out on me,” she said. “But even before he left, I realized I hadn’t known him as well as I thought. He’d changed in those last few days into a person I wasn’t sure I wanted to marry. So maybe it was just as well that he ran off.” She sighed, but smiled at Nancy.

  Nancy gave her a hug. “Why don’t you relax for the rest of the night? I’ll clean up.”

  But Hannah refused to let Nancy do all the work. Together, they straightened up the mess the “thief” had made. It took four hours, and by the time they’d finished, Nancy fell into bed, expecting to be asleep instantly.

  Instead, she found herself wide-awake, her head full of questions that she couldn’t answer. Had Charles Ogden murdered John Harrington? He could have, but when? He had driven Sam Abbott home around eleven-thirty, so how had he gotten back in time to kill Harrington at midnight?

  Nancy sat up in bed and flipped her pillow over, trying to get more comfortable. Of course, she thought, the times might not be completely exact. Ogden and Abbott could have left at ten-thirty, and that would have given Ogden time to get back. The only problem was that Mayor Abbott had been so sure that it was eleven-thirty.

  Sitting up again, Nancy kicked back the lightweight quilt, got up and opened her window more, then flopped back down on the bed. She wasn’t sure if Hannah’s suspicions were worth worrying about. Charles Ogden might have acted strangely, but that didn’t make him a killer. Nancy thought he sounded more like a creep. Maybe he had found a little Harrington money hidden somewhere, and then skipped town with it. If that was true, then Hannah was better off without him.

  And what about Neil Gray? she wondered, bunching her pillow underneath her head. So far, he was still her best suspect. He’d been raving, according to Mayor Abbott. And even though his appointment had been canceled, he could have hidden somewhere and then killed Harrington after everyone else had left. He had had the best motive—John Harrington was ruining his campaign and reputation and he wanted revenge.

  And, Nancy told herself, turning onto her stomach and shoving her pillow onto the floor, you don’t know where Neil Gray is, either.

  Nancy got up and went into the bathroom for a drink of water. Think about something else, she told herself so she would relax and get to sleep. Think about someone else.

  Unfortunately, the only other person who came to mind was Ned. And thoughts of Ned—and that “serious” talk he’d wanted to have—didn’t lull her to sleep either. Nancy tossed and turned for at least another hour, wondering if Ned was about to call their relationship off.

  She was awakened by her bedside phone ringing. Nancy grabbed the phone. “Ned?”

  “Hardly,” Brenda Carlton said. “But now I know where your mind is. No wonder you haven’t solved this case yet.”

  Bleary eyed, Nancy looked at her alarm clock. “Eight-thirty?” she grumbled. “I hope you didn’t call me up at eight-thirty in the morning just for fun, Brenda.”

  “What’s that noise?” Brenda asked.

  “What noise?”

  “It’s a clicking. You sound like a record that’s skipping,” Brenda complained.

  Nancy heard it then, too, but she didn’t care what it was. “Forget it,” she said. “It’s a lousy connection. Why don’t you just tell me why you called?”

  Brenda gave a throaty little laugh. “I called because I thought you ought to be the first to know—I’ve solved the case.”

  Suddenly wide awake, Nancy sat straight up. “You’ve what? I don’t believe it.”

  “What’s the matter?” Brenda asked. “Are you jealous?”

  Nancy yawned loudly. “No, I’m just being realistic. You couldn’t have solved it, Brenda. There’s not enough to go on.”

  “That’s what you think,” Brenda retorted.

  “Okay, so tell me.”

  “Oh, no! You’ll have to read it in the Times with everyone else.”

  “Brenda, you can’t write a story without concrete proof and without a murderer. It would be all speculation. You have to tie up all the loose ends and deliver the criminal to the police.”

  “Well, maybe I can tell you first. But not on the phone; we’ll meet later. And maybe you could wrap up all the teeny-tiny little details for me. Actually, it would be good to tell you. You might learn something about investigative technique from me. Oh, excuse me, I don’t mean to gloat, Nancy, but you haven’t been doing your homework. But if I give you my information later, you’ll have to promise not to act on it until I can write my story. That’s the only way I’ll tell what I’ve learned.”

  “Oh, Brenda, you’re just plain—” Nancy just stopped herself from telling Brenda that she was silly. “All right, it’s a deal,” she said, swallowing her pride.

  • • •

  Forty-five minutes later Nancy pulled the Mustang into a parking space and got out. It was in a neglected section of town that was deserted even at nine-thirty in the morning. The kind of area with shadowy alleys, run-down buildings, and small shops with metal grates stretched across their entrances at night.

  Brenda had told her to walk three blocks, turn right, and keep walking until she came to a bus stop. Nancy thought the whole meeting was absolutely ridiculous, like something out of a bad spy movie, but Brenda had insisted, she said, so that no one would follow them. Why they couldn’t just have met in Brenda’s office Nancy would never understand. Brenda got so carried away with the melodrama of the situation!

  Nancy walked quickly. She wanted to hear the story and then get out of that neighborhood. She’d been there five minutes, and as far as she was concerned, that was five minutes to
o many.

  Up ahead, Nancy saw the street where she was supposed to make a right turn. This better be a good story, she thought, picking up her pace.

  It was hard to believe that Brenda had actually solved the case, but anything was possible. Well, at least Nancy would finally have the answers. She walked even faster, eager now to get to Brenda and hear what she had to say.

  She was just about to turn the corner when she heard the sound. A scratchy, scraping sound, coming from the top of the four-story building beside her. Glancing up, Nancy saw movement—it looked like someone’s hands and head sticking over the edge of the building for a second. But she didn’t have time to observe closely because next to the disembodied person something was starting to teeter at the corner of the building.

  It was a column of stone—a decorative element. As Nancy watched, it continued to wobble and then it started to fall—straight at her head.

  Chapter

  Twelve

  MOVE! NANCY TOLD herself. Her body felt as if it were under water, but somehow she managed to leap forward, grazing her shoulder on the corner of the building.

  She fell hard, scraping her hands on the rough pavement. The stone crashed onto the sidewalk behind her, breaking into pieces as if it were an eggshell. It landed where Nancy had been standing only seconds before. If it had hit her, she knew she would have been killed instantly.

  I’ll have to talk to Mayor Abbott, Nancy thought as she got shakily to her feet. This part of town is coming apart at the seams! But as she gently brushed off her scratched palms, she remembered the person she’d thought she had seen. Maybe it wasn’t an accident. Maybe it was more of the same—someone trying to scare her off. And if it was, then things had just become very serious.

  Stepping out into the middle of the street, Nancy craned her neck, trying to see if she could spot anyone up on the roof. All she saw was the gap where the stone decoration had been.

  “Why are you here? I told you to meet me at the bus stop.” Brenda Carlton’s voice grated on Nancy.

  Dressed in tight black pants and an oversize blouse, with a gold chain belt around her hips, Brenda strode impatiently down the street. But Nancy didn’t look at her. She was running to the fire escape that ran down the side of the building. “You may have solved this case, Brenda,” she said, “and I know you can’t wait to gloat about it, but we have something more important to do first.”

  “We do? What?”

  Nancy grabbed the rusted bottom rung and swung herself up. “Come on,” she called back to Brenda. “We have to hurry!”

  Nancy was wearing a soft purple running outfit, which made it easy for her to climb. But Brenda’s clothes weren’t good for much but sitting and standing. Sighing loudly, she heaved herself clumsily onto the fire escape steps. The thin high heel on one of her shoes immediately caught on the step and broke off. By this time, Nancy was halfway up the side of the building.

  “Do you mind telling me what we’re doing?” Brenda screeched, pulling off her shoe and stamping her bare foot.

  “We’re trying to find whoever just tried to kill me!” Nancy shouted back. “Hurry!”

  The rest of the way up, Nancy could hear Brenda shrieking at her, but there was no time to answer. It might not be too late, she thought. The stone had fallen only a couple of minutes before.

  The roof of the building was covered with black tarlike stuff that felt soft and gooey underfoot. In the middle of it was a high square shed with a door on one side. Except for that door, and a couple of metal bubbles that Nancy figured were for ventilation, the roof was empty. The roof of the next building was too far away to jump to safely, and the only way off the roof was the fire escape.

  Cautiously, Nancy crept to the door that led into the building. She moved silently around one corner, then the next, and the next, ready to jump on anyone who might be hiding. No one was there. Quietly she tested the handle. It turned easily, and Nancy found herself staring down a steep stairway that led to the top floor of the building.

  The building was four stories high, Nancy remembered. And her stone pusher could be hiding on any one of them. Her heart pounding, she put one foot on the top step and was peering down into the shadowy stairwell when she heard a noise behind her.

  Nancy whirled around to see Brenda climbing clumsily off the fire escape and onto the tarry roof. Brenda’s mouth was open, ready to complain again, but Nancy quickly put a finger to her lips and motioned her over.

  Carrying her broken shoe, Brenda limped to the doorway. “I wish—”

  “Ssh!” Nancy hissed. “Later! Now take off that other shoe and come on!”

  Together Nancy and Brenda made their way down the first flight of stairs to the door leading into the fourth floor. It was locked. So was the door on the third floor. Finally, on the second floor, the door opened.

  “Why didn’t you just break into those other doors?” Brenda whispered.

  “Because I figured the guy who wanted to kill me didn’t have time to do it himself,” Nancy whispered back. “He just tried to bash my head in, so he’s not going to stand around picking locks. He wants an easy way out.”

  Brenda looked terrified. “So you think he might still be hiding in here? Why wouldn’t he just take these stairs to the outside?”

  “Because these will only go into the basement, and he wouldn’t be able to get out. He had to go onto a floor and then take the inside stairs to the first floor, or he could have then taken the fire escape back down after we were off it. I am hoping that we’ll surprise him and that he won’t have left yet.”

  Nancy tiptoed quietly through the long hallway that was lined with doors. They must have been offices once, but she couldn’t imagine anyone doing business there now. The hall was littered with trash, the tiles were broken, and cobwebs hung from the ceilings.

  “You go that way around that corner and try doors,” she told Brenda. “If one of the doors opens, don’t go in. Just come get me.”

  Brenda put her hand nervously on a doorknob. It wouldn’t turn. Satisfied that Brenda was at least going to try, Nancy was going around the corner when she heard Brenda scream.

  Her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with terror, Brenda stood in an open doorway. “I saw it!” she shrieked. “A rat! A huge, disgusting rat!”

  With a sigh Nancy stepped into the room. It was small, with broken chairs and a battered desk. The floor was covered with a film of dust, and in the dust was a clear set of footprints leading to an open window. Through the window, Nancy could see the fire escape.

  He’s gone, she thought, looking down at the deserted street. And the only clue he left behind was his big, fat footprints. Checking the prints again, she saw that they really were big. They belonged to a tall man, probably, just like the one in the black car and the one in John Harrington’s office—the one who wanted to do more than scare her.

  “Nancy?” Brenda said nervously.

  “It’s okay,” Nancy said, going into the hallway. “The rat’s gone. Both of them. Come on, let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

  Back on the street, Nancy finally remembered why Brenda had asked her there. “Okay, Brenda,” she said. “I have to admit it’ll make me jealous, but if you really have solved the case, at least it’ll be over. So tell me.”

  “Well.” Brenda smiled importantly. “It just so happens that I found Neil Gray.”

  Nancy’s mouth dropped open. “And he confessed to killing John Harrington?”

  “Not yet,” Brenda told her. “But I’m sure he will once the police take him into custody. What he did confess was that he took that shot at Todd the other day.”

  “Where is he?” Nancy asked.

  “Oh, no! I found him, and he’s mine,” Brenda said. “But I will tell you this—he’s changed his name, and he’s become almost a hermit, living alone and brooding about the Harringtons. He absolutely despises them,” she went on. “He said that when he found out about Todd’s campaign, he didn’t know
what came over him. It was as though all the awful stuff that’s been haunting him had come alive again! Isn’t that fantastic?”

  Nancy nodded. “But he didn’t admit to killing Todd’s father?”

  “No, he just told the same old story—that his appointment had been canceled and he went home without ever seeing John Harrington. But as I said, once the police get him, I bet he’ll talk!”

  Nancy wasn’t so sure, but she didn’t want to argue. “Is he tall?” she asked, suddenly wondering if Neil Gray and the tall, skinny man with the shotgun were the same person.

  “Six feet, at least!”

  Very slowly then Nancy asked her to describe the man. After hearing Brenda’s description, Nancy knew her tall, skinny man was not Neil Gray. She had been hoping that he had been following her and also that he was the killer of John Harrington.

  If he wasn’t Gray, she thought, then who was he? Charles Ogden? No, Ogden was only about five feet five. Therefore, the skinny man had to be a hired accomplice, Nancy reasoned, and anyone could have hired him. She was no further along than she had been, except that now she knew that Neil Gray was not following her.

  Nancy started to think more about the man who had pushed the stone over. How had he known to wait for her on the roof of that particular building that morning? She hadn’t been followed, she was sure of that. In spite of the sun, Nancy shivered. How had he known?

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  AS SHE FOLLOWED Brenda’s flashy red car out of the run-down section of town a few minutes later, Nancy had an overwhelming urge to keep on following her. After all—unbelievable as it seemed—Brenda had found Neil Gray. And Nancy would have given almost anything to talk to the man. She knew she could find out more from him than Brenda had.

  Unfortunately, Brenda turned down the street the newspaper office was on, and Nancy had no choice but to keep on driving.