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Authors: Carolyn Keene

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BOOK: 010 Buried Secrets
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Wishing her luck, the policemen headed for
their car. Nancy was just about to close the door when she saw a car pull up. Ned got out and walked toward her.

He couldn’t have come at a worse time, Nancy thought, trying to comb her hair with her fingers. I look as if I’ve been on a five-day hike.

“What’s going on?” Ned asked, a worried look in his brown eyes. “Why were the police here? Are you all right?”


I
am,” Nancy said. “But the house may never be the same.” She sat down on the front steps and told Ned what had happened.

Shaking his head, Ned sat down beside her. “What are you going to do?”

“What can I do but solve the case as fast as I can,” Nancy said. She leaned back against a porch pillar and closed her eyes. “I just wish I had something more to go on. So far, I don’t have a single good lead.” As Nancy spoke, Max leaped silently onto the porch and rubbed against her ankles. Nancy scratched him between the ears until he purred.

“He likes you,” Ned said.

“Umm.”

“So do I.”

Nancy looked over and smiled at Ned. “The feeling’s mutual,” she said softly. Maybe the day wouldn’t be a total loss after all.

Ned scooted a little closer to her. “I came by to see if you wanted to go for a ride, maybe get something to eat,” he said. “I tried to call, but your phone wasn’t working.”

“It wasn’t? It worked fine when I called the police.”

Ned shrugged. “I don’t know. Must have just been something temporary. Anyway, how about supper?”

“Supper sounds great.” It really does, Nancy thought. She just wished she could go. “But even if the house could clean itself, I couldn’t leave Hannah,” she explained. “Seeing that guy really shook her up.”

Ned nodded, and Nancy was glad to see that he looked sympathetic. “And I’d invite you in, but we’d have to do a major clean-up before we could even sit down,” she said.

“It’s okay,” Ned told her. “It’s nice out here.” He scooted closer to Nancy. “A front porch is always a good place for a nice serious talk.”

Serious? Suddenly Nancy was worried. What was he going to say? She swallowed and sat up straighter, trying to get ready for whatever Ned had to tell her.

“Nancy,” he said, reaching for her hand, “this is really hard—”

At that moment Hannah opened the front door.
Normally she would have gone back inside to give them privacy. But right then Hannah hardly seemed to notice that Ned was there. She looked worried, nervous—and determined.

“Nancy, I have to talk to you,” she said. “It’s very important.”

“Sure, Hannah,” Nancy said, wondering what could be wrong. She turned to Ned to apologize, but he’d already stood up.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he said.

“Okay,” Nancy said. She was almost relieved. After all, if Ned was going to give her bad news, she could wait to hear it. Right then she was more worried about Hannah.

“I’ve never spoken to anyone about this,” Hannah said after they stepped back inside and went into the kitchen. “For years I kept it a secret, and after all this time I started to think it was all just my imagination. But I can’t think that anymore.” She took a deep breath. “This case you’re on could be dangerous, Nancy, and I have to tell you what I’ve kept secret all this time.”

Nancy couldn’t imagine Hannah having any kind of horrible secret. “What is it?” she asked.

Hannah clasped her hands together nervously, but her voice was steady. “I’ve always thought—and I still think—that Charlie Ogden might have killed John Harrington.”

Chapter

Eleven

C
OMPLETELY STUNNED
, N
ANCY
stared at Hannah. Of course, Nancy herself had thought that Charles Ogden might have been involved in John Harrington’s death. But to hear Hannah—who’d been in love with the man—say that he might be a murderer was a real jolt.

“I wasn’t completely honest with you, Nancy,” Hannah went on. “I told you that Charlie was upset when he didn’t get that raise. But the truth is, he was absolutely furious. And when he left, he told me he was going to go back and give Mr. Harrington a piece of his mind.” Hannah shook her head. “I’d never seen Charlie like that; he was so angry it was frightening.”

“But you calmed him down,” Nancy reminded her. “Mayor Abbott said he was okay when he came back. Besides, Hannah, Ogden’s and the mayor’s stories match. They left Harrington House together, and John Harrington was still alive then.”

“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 too 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.

BOOK: 010 Buried Secrets
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