010 Buried Secrets (5 page)

“Why?”

“Well, there’s no place to hide up there,” Brenda said. “If I’d parked and waited for you, you would have seen me. Anyway,” she went on, “I went a little down the road and found a place just wide enough to turn around in. So I parked there and waited for you.”

The black car must have done that, too, Nancy
thought. The cliff road had more than one of those little turnarounds. “Well?” she said. “Then what?”

“Then I saw your car coming back down. I waited a few seconds and was just about ready to pull out when the black car came zooming past.” Brenda shrugged. “I figured it was following
you
, so I followed
it.”

“It wasn’t just following me!” Nancy said. “Whoever was driving it wanted to run me off the road.”

“Maybe not,” Brenda said. “After all, I saw what was going on. If that car had wanted to run you off the road, it could have. But it didn’t. Maybe the driver was just trying to scare you so you’ll stay away from the Harrington case.” She reached into her pocketbook for a brush and began fixing her hair. “You see?” she said with a pleased smile. “I was right—there
is
a mystery about this case. And somebody wants to cover it up.”

“Okay, so let’s play detective,” Nancy suggested with a grin. “What was the make of the car?”

“Um—” Brenda frowned. “I’m not too good with cars. But it was a pretty new model, I think.”

“Well, then, how about the license number?” Nancy asked. “Did you get that?”

Brenda zipped up her pocketbook, looking almost embarrassed. “Well, not all of it,” she admitted. “I mean, we were all going so fast, and I was having enough trouble staying on the road. But I’m almost positive it started with a three.”

“Great.” Nancy shook her head in disgust. “That really narrows it down, Brenda.”

“All right, you don’t have to rub it in.” Brenda frowned, then tossed her hair triumphantly. “I
can
tell you this, though,” she said. “The driver was a man.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please, Nancy, I do know a man from a woman!” Brenda said indignantly.

“Okay.” Nancy nodded. “What else did you notice about him?”

Brenda sighed impatiently. “I didn’t have all day to look, you know. But I did notice that he was tall. His head nearly reached the ceiling of the car.”

A tall man, Nancy thought. Great! I only know thousands of them.

“Well,” Brenda said, “if you’re all through cross-examining me, I think I’ll go.”

“Just one more thing,” Nancy told her. “You haven’t explained
why
you were following me.”

“Isn’t that obvious? I wanted to see if you’d gotten any leads.” Brenda smiled nastily. “After
all, in a contest it’s always important to know what your opponent’s up to.”

“The older Harringtons would have liked you a lot,” Nancy commented.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t play fair,” Nancy said. “And you’d better not follow me again,” she warned, “or I’ll let everybody know what you’ve been doing.”

“Honestly, Nancy.” Brenda waved her hand at their two dust-covered cars. “Do you really think I want to get into another high-speed chase? I’d have to be crazy. Don’t worry, from now on if anyone’s following you, it won’t be me.”

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.”

H
ANNAH
!” N
ANCY 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?”