Poison Pen (4 page)

“What about David Park?” George asked. “Yesterday he was your idea of a total dream.”

Bess's blue eyes sparkled with mischief as she retorted, “So I have a lot of dreams. Come on, let's go home and get ready for tonight.”

• • •

“Wow, you look fantastic!” Ned exclaimed when he arrived at the Drews' that evening. His brown eyes held a warm glow of admiration.

Nancy pirouetted in front of him. The silky skirt of her dress flared out around her slender legs in a riot of bright, tropical colors. “Like it?”

“I love it,” Ned said, pulling her into his arms for a kiss. “I just hope Dave and Jonathan aren't as dazzled as I am. After all, they're
supposed to be with Bess and George. So how was your day?”

“Very weird.” Nancy told him about the incident with Brenda at the mall. “So now she's going around saying someone is trying to kill her,” she concluded. “Can you believe it?”

Ned shrugged. “Maybe someone
is
trying to kill her.”

“I don't think so,” she said. “I mean, I actually asked around, just in case, but no one saw anything.”

“Are you sure?” Ned asked, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “Someone might want revenge for the advice Brenda gave in her column.”

“Hey, I never thought of that,” Nancy said, giggling. “You could be right.”

The front bell rang, and Nancy opened the door to let Bess and George in. Bess looked terrific in her new, thigh-length dusky pink blouse with a pair of white leggings underneath. George wore, a black sleeveless blouse and a black miniskirt with chunky gold earrings.

“Wow! You guys are really dressed to kill,” Ned said when he saw them. “Those guys don't stand a chance!”

Jonathan and David arrived soon after. Nancy had already started the coals, and before long the six were sitting on the back porch, their plates piled high with food.

“Well, the tornadoes seem to have held off,”
David commented as he took a second drumstick from the platter on the table.

“Keep your fingers crossed,” Bess said. She spooned more potato salad onto David's plate and flashed him a dazzling smile.

Nancy peeked discreetly at George and Jonathan, who were sitting a little apart. George leaned forward, her dark eyes sparkling as she nodded agreement to something Jonathan was saying.

“Pretty good matchmaking, Drew,” Ned whispered in her ear.

“I am the best. Aren't I?” Nancy whispered back.

The sun was just setting when they headed over to the lake. Nancy and Ned drove in his green Chevy, while the others went in David's car.

“We've still got about forty-five minutes before Ice Planet starts playing,” Jonathan said after they met up in the parking lot. “Just enough time to get a soda and find a spot to sit.”

They had almost reached the refreshment stand when Nancy felt a tug on her arm. “Hey, there's Brenda,” Bess said. “She doesn't seem to be with anyone—do you think she came alone?”

Nancy followed Bess's gaze over to where Brenda was standing by herself. She looked very pretty in a white jumpsuit, but she seemed to be very uncomfortable.

“Seems that way. She looks lonely,” Nancy said. Sighing, she added, “I'll probably regret this, but I'm going to ask her to join us.”

Threading her way through the crowd of fans, Nancy tapped Brenda on the shoulder. “Hi,” she said. “Have you recovered from this afternoon?”

“Oh—hi.” Brenda seemed taken aback. “Yes, I'm fine.”

“Did the police find any prints on that beam or on the scaffolding?” Nancy asked politely.

Brenda flushed. “No,” she admitted.

Nancy just nodded. Brenda already looked embarrassed about the fuss she had made at the mall. It would be mean to rub her nose in it, though, so all Nancy said was, “I'm here with a bunch of people. Do you want to join us?”

Brenda was obviously torn between suspicion and eagerness. “Well, maybe for a little while,” she said at last, making it sound as if she were doing Nancy a big favor.

The reporter followed Nancy back to Ned and the others, but it seemed to Nancy that she was distracted. Brenda hardly joined in the conversation, and she kept peering around at the crowd. Finally she murmured an excuse and wandered away, heading closer to the open-air stage.

“Was it my perfume?” George joked, nodding her head after Brenda.

“Oh, well, we tried,” Nancy said, shrugging.
Just then she stiffened. “Look!” she cried, gripping George's arm. “It's the guy I saw at the mall this afternoon.”

“The one Bess thought was cute?” George asked.

Nancy nodded distractedly, her eyes still on the tall stranger. He seemed to be strolling aimlessly—but Nancy noticed that his circular path was taking him closer and closer to Brenda Carlton.

Now, why is he following Brenda? Nancy asked herself. She didn't like what she was thinking, but she couldn't avoid the thought. Brenda had already had one narrow escape that day—and the tall stranger had been there when it happened.

It seemed farfetched, but what if this guy was responsible? Was it possible that he was planning to cause
another
“accident”?

I
N A FLASH
Nancy made up her mind. It would be better to make a fool of herself and be wrong than to let something terrible happen to Brenda.

“I'll be right back,” she said over her shoulder to the others. Then, without waiting for an answer, she strode purposefully after the tall blond guy.

Within seconds she was in the thick of the crowd that was drifting toward the stage. The sun had set, and with only the last vestiges of daylight to help her, Nancy was having a hard time keeping sight of her quarry. Then, to make things worse, a big, beefy guy in a tank top stepped in front of her, blocking her view completely.

“Excuse me, please,” she said, but he didn't seem to hear her. “Uh—excuse me,” she
said again, in a louder voice. “Could I get by?”

“Huh?” The guy turned and broke into a wide smile as he saw Nancy. “Hey, what's your hurry, Red? You here alone?” he asked.

Nancy frowned and tried to get around him, but he moved to block her way. “My name's Al,” he said. “You're cute.”

Nancy could hardly contain her impatience. “My name is Nancy,” she told him. “I'm in a real hurry. And I'm here with my boyfriend. His name is Ned, but most people just call him Mad Dog.”

Al's mouth fell open as he stepped aside.

Nancy hurried on, but to her dismay she'd lost sight of the tall, blond guy. “Oh, no!” she muttered. He probably wasn't up to anything, she reminded herself. But what if she was wrong?

Maybe I should look for Brenda instead, Nancy reasoned. In that white jumpsuit she shouldn't be hard to spot.

Nancy pushed her way closer to the stage, her eyes darting over the growing crowd. The platform had been set up at one end of a grassy lawn enclosed by a split-rail fence and rimmed by a line of towering oak trees. The whole thing was about a hundred yards from the lakeshore. Nancy was almost to the fence when she spotted Brenda, standing alone by the gate. The reporter looked at her wristwatch once, then once again.

At almost the same instant Nancy's eye caught a flash of movement in the trees. A quick glance was enough to give her a good idea of who was lurking among the old oaks. She circled around to the side, her heart pounding.

She wasn't mistaken. The tall, blond stranger stood in the shadow of a massive tree, his hair a bright golden patch in the deepening evening gloom. The guy was definitely studying Brenda. If his intentions were good, why would he be hiding behind a tree?

I guess I might as well be direct, Nancy thought. Stepping quietly up behind the guy, she cleared her throat, causing the stranger to whirl around. He gaped at Nancy, his green eyes wide with alarm.

At his first move Nancy had tensed, ready to defend herself if necessary. Now she relaxed, but only slightly. He doesn't
look
dangerous, she thought. But she knew that didn't mean much—she had met plenty of criminals who had looked as harmless as this guy.

“Excuse me, but I saw you over here in the trees, and I thought you might be lost or something,” she said. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, uh, thanks, th-that's very nice of you,” the guy stammered. “The fact is, I'm new in town. Well, sort of new—that is, I'm not here permanently. I'm a college student. I'm just here for the summer, staying with my aunt and
uncle.” He stopped talking abruptly, gave a nervous laugh, and held out his hand. “My name's Rick Waterston.”

He's babbling, Nancy thought. What's he so nervous about? She decided to come right out and ask him what he was up to.

“I'm Nancy Drew,” she said in a firm, matter-of-fact voice. “I saw you at the mall this afternoon, and you seemed very interested in my friend over there—” She gestured toward Brenda, who was still by the fence gate. “Or at least in the near-accident she had just had. And tonight I saw you following her. I'd like to know why.”

Rick's eyes sharpened with interest. “You know her?” he asked quickly. “That's Brenda Carlton, isn't it?”

Folding her arms across her chest, Nancy stared at Rick and asked, “Why do you want to know?”

Rick hesitated for a moment and stared at the ground. “This is going to sound really weird,” he began.

“Try me,” Nancy offered.

“I need to talk to Brenda,” Rick said. “When I saw her this afternoon at the mall, I thought I recognized her. I tried to talk to her there, only then that beam nearly fell on her, and with all the excitement I didn't have a chance. So I left a message at the newspaper she writes a column for and asked her to meet me.”

“What do you want to talk to her about?” Nancy pressed.

Rick hesitated again, raking a hand through his thick blond hair. “It's her column,” he said at last. “See, there was this letter in it this morning, and my aunt and uncle—well, they haven't been getting along very well lately, and in the last couple of weeks I've noticed some weird things. . . .” Rick trailed off.

Nancy couldn't believe what she was hearing. “Wait a minute. Are you saying your aunt—” she began, but she was interrupted by a shout.

“Nan! There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you.”

It was Ned. “Oh, hi,” she greeted him distractedly, then introduced him to Rick.

“Nice to meet you,” Ned said. He turned back to Nancy. “What's with the disappearing act? The concert's about to start.”

Nancy glanced quickly at Rick. “I, uh—I needed to talk to Rick,” she said. “He was just telling me something very interesting about his aunt and uncle.” Speaking directly to Rick, she added, “I'd like to hear the rest of your story.”

But Ned's presence seemed to have put a damper on Rick's willingness to talk. “Oh, it's nothing—it's dumb,” he mumbled. “Look, I've got to be going. It was nice meeting both of you.”

“Wait,” Nancy said. But Rick was already
gone, hurrying along with the crowd that was settling in on the lawn in front of the stage.

Ned looked at her questioningly. “What was that all about?”

“I'm not sure,” Nancy said thoughtfully. She told Ned about seeing Rick at the mall, spotting him following Brenda, and then his story about Brenda's column. “But the guy just clammed up the minute you came along,” she finished. “I wonder if he was really trying to tell me he thinks his aunt wrote that letter to Brenda?”

Ned turned as the sound of clapping and whistling broke out. “Well, let's not talk about it now. Ice Planet must be getting ready to come onstage. Come on.” He grabbed Nancy's hand and pulled her toward the stage. “The others went ahead to scout out a good spot for us, but if we don't get a move on, we'll never find them.”

“Okay, okay,” Nancy said, hurrying to keep up with him. As they entered the grassy enclosure and picked their way through the crowd, she craned her neck trying to spot Rick or Brenda, but neither was in sight.

The band launched into its first number, just as Ned and Nancy found the blanket their friends had spread out on the grass. Bess scooted over to make room on the blanket for Nancy and Ned.

Ice Planet was one of Nancy's favorite groups, and she began bobbing her head in
time to the music. Even so, her thoughts kept returning to what Rick had started to tell her.

Was there really a woman in River Heights who was afraid her husband was trying to kill her? Did that person really try to kill Brenda? Unless Rick had made up what he'd told Nancy—and she didn't know why he would—it was beginning to look as if maybe Brenda
hadn't
made up that letter in her column.

I've got to find out the truth, Nancy thought, because if this woman does exist, then she needs help. And Brenda is putting both herself and the woman in even more danger by publishing those letters and telling the letter writer not to do anything.