025 Rich and Dangerous (6 page)

“Your hands, Nancy! What happened to them?”

Nancy looked at the scrape marks, then quickly put her hands under the table. “Oh, nothing,” she murmured. “I was just closing the window and it got stuck.”

Ordinarily, Nancy would never fib to her father, but this time she was afraid to tell him the truth. If he knew how close she’d come to real harm, he’d be very upset.

“Oh—I forgot to tell you, Dad. George and Bess are in town! I’m meeting them at Trump Tower tonight!” Nancy picked up her fork.

Carson gave her an amused look. “George and Bess, eh? What do you know.” He looked at her fingertips again. “Want me to break up your lobster for you?” he asked with a little smile.

“Thanks, Dad. I guess you’d better.”

“The window got stuck, huh?”

• • •

A few hours later Nancy was sipping cappuccino with George and Bess at a café overlooking the Trump Tower atrium. Around them gleamed some of New York’s most chic stores.

“Isn’t this fantastic?” she asked. Bess and George agreed.

Nearby, waterfalls cascaded from a hidden source within the burnished marble walls of Trump Tower into glittering pools below. Somewhere, a flute and cello played something that sounded like Bach.

Nancy finshed a bite of anisette toast and looked over at her friends. “So how are you two holding up? Long day?”

“Aunt Julie’s pot roast did me in,” George admitted. “If only I hadn’t let her talk me into seconds . . .”

“Well then, what do you say we get together again after the matinee tomorrow? My dad and I are going to see
Music!
and then we’re having dinner someplace really special. Maybe you can come. Afterward, we could catch a cab to Greenwich Village and go to a jazz club or something—”

“Sounds good, Nan,” said Bess as they paid the check and headed down the escalator.

They were still discussing plans for the next day when Nancy spotted a familiar figure coming toward them on the up escalator. It was Pieter van Druten. He was holding an airline-ticket folder.

Nancy grabbed her friends and whispered, “Look, that’s the guy I told you about—Sarah Amberly’s boyfriend.”

“Kind of old,” said Bess nonchalantly.

Nancy turned to watch as van Druten stepped off the escalator and into an exclusive men’s store. He looked so self-satisfied, so casual, his lips permanently pursed in a nasty little smile.

“Listen, would you mind if we waited outside
and followed him?” Nancy found herself saying. “I’m kind of interested—”

“Nancy Drew, you’re hopeless,” said George with a shake of her head. “Okay, let’s go.”

They trailed Pieter van Druten to the lobby of the Plaza, where he entered the dry-cleaning shop, which was open until midnight. The girls watched from across the hall as he dropped off a shirt he had been carrying inside his jacket. He soon emerged and walked on.

“Bess, George—you keep following van Druten. I’m going to see if I can get that shirt back.”

“Okay,” Bess said. “But this is absolutely it for tonight.” She and George headed in the same direction that van Druten had gone.

By the time Nancy had retrieved the shirt, Bess and George were waiting for her.

“Where’s van Druten?” Nancy asked.

“He’s having a late supper in one of the restaurants,” George replied. “We figured he’d be there awhile, so we decided to come back.”

“What did you want the shirt for, anyway?” Bess asked.

“Just a hunch,” Nancy said, stuffing it in her purse. “Thanks for all your help, guys.”

“Well, good night, Nancy. Talk to you tomorrow,” George said.

Nancy headed back to her suite. As soon as she
stepped off the elevator she knew something was wrong—desperately wrong. Every fiber in her being tensed.

The Amberlys’ door was open—wide open. That’s odd, thought Nancy.

She peered inside. She saw no one, and was about to leave, when she heard a sound that made her blood run cold. It was a sort of throaty rattling. The source of the sound was definitely human, and whoever was making it was in deep trouble.

Running into Sarah’s bedroom, Nancy saw the older woman. Sarah had fallen off the bed and was grasping the empty air, her eyes wild with pain and terror. The bottle of pills was on the floor, and the pills themselves scattered around. The water glass lay shattered nearby, as did a teacup and saucer.

“Sarah! Are you all right?” Nancy asked. “What’s happened?” She took the woman in her arms and was surprised to feel how cold she was, as if she’d been bathing in ice water.

“Th—Kkk—Aaa—”

Nancy couldn’t make out what Sarah was saying, but she knew it must be terribly important. The woman seemed to be imploring her to listen. Nancy leaned in closer, her ear practically on her lips.

“Th—Dev—ev—vil—” Sarah was saying now. “Th—th—fff—foo—ool—”

Sarah seemed to grow rigid in Nancy’s arms. “And—and—D-D—eee—eath-th,” she gasped. Again came the hideous rattling, and then she went limp.

“No! No!” shouted Nancy. “I won’t let you die!” Nancy seized the older woman and pounded on her chest rhythmically, desperately trying to get her breathing again.

But it was too late. Sarah Amberly was already dead.

I
CAN’T BELIEVE
it. She just didn’t respond. Nothing I tried was any use.” Nancy looked up at her father, her large blue eyes filled with agony and self-doubt. They were standing with the manager of the hotel in the main room of the Amberly suite, waiting for the hotel doctor to arrive. “For all the good I did, I might as well not have even been here.”

“Nancy, Nancy—you did everything you could. No one can work miracles.” Carson Drew patted his daughter’s shoulder tenderly and drew her toward him.

“But I let her down, Dad. I did. I just . . . just—oh, I felt so helpless.”

“You did everything you possibly could.”

Just then a white-haired man in a dark suit entered the suite. From the black leather bag he was carrying, Nancy guessed he must be the doctor.

“Where’s Mrs. Amberly?” he asked.

“In there.” The manager pointed to Sarah’s bedroom. He and the doctor went in, Carson and Nancy following behind.

Seeing Sarah so still on the floor, her face twisted into an expression of pained surprise, made Nancy wince. Why hadn’t she found a way to save her?

“Hmmm . . .” the doctor murmured, finishing his examination. Then, turning to Nancy, he asked, “You’re the young lady who reported this?”

“Yes.”

“And when was it exactly?”

“No more than ten minutes ago. I heard a strange sound from the hall. It sounded like she was choking. And when I got here, she was having difficulty breathing. I tried CPR, but she just—” Nancy shivered as she remembered the whole horrible episode.

“No, no,” the doctor murmured, with a gentle shake of his head. “You musn’t blame yourself. CPR doesn’t always work. In fact, I believe Mrs.
Amberly may have died from an overdose of her heart medicine.”

With a sigh, he turned back to the body. “I’m afraid this was an act of suicide, and there’s nothing you or I or anyone could have done to prevent it. Mrs. Amberly was an unhappy woman, and that coupled with her failing health . . . Well, who knows? Sad, very sad.” With that, he gently closed Sarah Amberly’s pale eyes and drew the sheet over her face.

“Suicide? But she was
fighting
for her life, doctor. I was here—I saw her!” said Nancy incredulously.

The doctor raised his eyebrows and took Nancy in with a look of gentle wisdom. “My dear, I attended both Mrs. Amberly and her sister many times during their visits here at the Plaza. I assure you, she was fully aware of the consequences of overmedication. Fully aware.”

Nancy shook her head sadly. Just half an hour ago she’d been in a glittering café, having fun with George and Bess. If only she’d known what was happening in the Amberly suite!

Suddenly there was a bloodcurdling scream in the outer room. “Where is she? Don’t hide her from me!”

Alison Kale burst into the room, followed by two attendants from the hotel staff.

“Sarah! Sarah!” she cried. “What did that monster do to you! What did he do to you?”

“Now, now, calm down, Alison. Try to get hold of yourself,” the doctor said.

“Miss Kale, I assure you, the doctor did everything he could,” said the hotel manager.

“She was murdered! My sister was murdered!” Alison screamed.

“All right! Everyone just remain calm!” Nancy looked up in time to see Joe Ritter stride into the room, his notebook in hand. “Don’t touch anything! Now, would you tell us exactly what happened, doctor? I want to make a full report.”

“I’m afraid Mrs. Amberly took an overdose of her heart medication,” the doctor began. But he didn’t get a chance to finish, because just then Pieter van Druten appeared at the door.

“What’s going on here?” he cried, pushing Ritter and the doctor aside. He knelt down next to the bed and pulled back the sheet that covered Sarah’s face. “Sarah! My God!” He went rigid for a moment, as if stunned, then bent forward and regarded the dead woman. “Poor darling,” he muttered, “her heart finally gave out—”

“Hold it a minute!” Ritter barked. “Don’t touch anything! Who are you anyway?”

“I am Pieter van Druten. I was Mrs. Amberly’s—fiancé.”

“You’re lying!” Alison shrieked. “She never promised to marry you. Never!”

Nancy watched Pieter van Druten stand up a little straighter. “We were to be married in six
months,” he informed the brash young detective with a sad smile. Then, turning to the doctor, he murmured, “It was her heart, wasn’t it?”

“I believe it may have been an overdose of her medication, Mr. van Druten,” the doctor explained.

“Oh, no. That’s quite impossible. Sarah was very careful about her dosage,” said van Druten. “Very careful.”

“Sarah! Sarah!” Nancy turned around in time to see Alison Kale rush up and grab her sister’s body, as if trying to shake it back to life. “How could you leave me alone like this!” the bereft woman shrieked.

“She’s hysterical,” van Druten said. “Can’t you do something, doctor? She may hurt herself.”

The doctor nodded and quietly opened his bag.

“You promised you wouldn’t—you promised!” Alison continued to rant until the doctor’s soothing words did their work.

“There, there, dear. You’ve had a shock, but you’ll feel better soon.” He helped her into a chair, handing her a glass of water and a pill. “This will help you rest.”

He then began explaining to Detective Ritter what he thought must have happened. Ritter made notes in his little book, nodding the whole time, while Pieter van Druten wandered around the room, taking everything in.

“That’s strange,” he muttered, opening the top drawer of Sarah’s carved rosewood bureau.

“What’s strange?” sniffed Ritter.

“Sarah’s jewelry box. It’s missing.”

“Missing!” The young detective pounced on this new development like a hungry dog on a bone.

“It was here just before dinner,” said van Druten, wrinkling his brow. “I saw it here myself. Those jewels are worth a fortune!”

“I see,” said the detective, his eyes flashing. He addressed the small crowd. “All right, folks, in light of this new information, I have to reevaluate the situation. What we have here is apparently not a suicide, but murder!”

A stunned silence filled the room. Then, Ritter spun around and faced Nancy. “I’m told you were with the deceased when she died?”

“Yes. I was,” Nancy answered.

“The doctor here tells me that you claimed Mrs. Amberly was fighting for her life right up to the very end, is that right? Doesn’t sound like suicide, does it?” Ritter didn’t wait for an answer. “And I see there was no forced entry—that means the crime was committed by someone who was known to the deceased.”

Ritter focused on Alison Kale, sitting bleary-eyed in the club chair, then he looked over at Carson and Nancy.

“Felske, take a dusting of the victim’s fingertips.
See if there’s any trace of medicine on them.” He laughed a humorless laugh. “There won’t be, I predict.

“Hmmm—first the missing ruby, now the missing jewel box. Very interesting, don’t you agree, Miss Drew? And definitely
not
a suicide. No, I suspect Mrs. Amberly returned to her room to find someone she knew and trusted, in here. But to Mrs. Amberly’s surprise, that someone was in the act of stealing her precious jewelry!

“Mrs. Amberly is shocked,” Ritter continued, melodramatically acting out his version of the events as he spoke. “She feels betrayed. Quickly she moves to her bedside to phone the hotel police. But that someone is too quick for her. Before Mrs. A. can make the call, that someone spots the pills and forces them down the poor woman’s throat!

“There isn’t much of a struggle. Poor Mrs. Amberly’s heart is broken with the shock of it all—she’s a sick woman, remember. When it’s all over, the murderer takes the jewels and runs. A nearly perfect crime, Miss Drew—
nearly
perfect.

“You
were the last person to see Mrs. Amberly alive tonight. Yesterday
you
were here when the ruby ring was missing. Only Mrs. Amberly’s intervention saved you from arrest right then and there.” Ritter was looking at Nancy with undisguised scorn.