Poison Pen (9 page)

“If any garage is hiring mechanics who can shred a steering fluid unit that way by accident,” Ned retorted as they walked back to the Mustang, “then I hope I never take my car there for repairs.”

“What were you two doing over there?” Brenda asked as soon as Nancy and Ned walked up. “Why were you looking at my engine?”

“We just wanted to check something out,” Nancy replied evasively. “Come on, let's go back up to your house.”

“What were you checking out?” Brenda persisted as they all trudged back up the long hill. Her voice had regained its sharp edge. “You'd better tell me. It's my car, after all.”

Rick took Brenda's hand. “I'm sure she'd let you know if there was anything to worry about.”

Nancy was amazed by the way Brenda seemed to respond to Rick. A big smile spread across Brenda's face, and for the rest of the way up to the Carlton house, she was silent.

“Now what are you doing?” Brenda called
when Nancy and Ned headed for the garage. She hurried after them. “You guys are being awfully mysterious.”

Nancy was already bending down to examine the lock on the garage door. It was just as she had guessed. The edges of the metal lock plate had several shiny new scratches. Someone had taken the plate off and picked the lock.

Nancy's mouth was set in a grim line as she turned to Brenda and Rick. “Okay. It's time I told you the whole story,” she said.

“Whole story?” Rick repeated, faintly alarmed.

Nancy nodded, then made direct eye contact with Brenda. “That ‘accident' you had just now was no accident,” she said quietly.

“Your steering fluid container was slashed,” Ned explained.

Brenda's mouth fell open.

“Is this a joke?” Rick asked incredulously, turning from Nancy to Ned.

“Sorry, but it's not,” Nancy answered. She gestured at the lock on the garage door. “Someone picked this lock. I think we're looking at a case of sabotage.”

“Oh, no. No way,” Brenda burst out suddenly. “You're not going to pin this one on me!”

Nancy stared at her, mystified. “What are you—” she began.

But Brenda wasn't about to be interrupted. “I don't believe you!” she cried, angrily planting
her hands on her hips. “You can't seriously think I'd stage something like this, just for the publicity. Wreck my own car? Put my life—and Rick's—in danger? I don't think so. Face it, Nancy. This accident was just as real as the one with the beam—” She broke off suddenly, the color draining from her face as the meaning of her own words sank in.

“Exactly,” Nancy said. “I'm not trying to say you had anything to do with staging either accident, Brenda. But
someone
did.”

“Oh,” Brenda said in a tiny voice.

Rick gasped. “Are you saying someone really is trying to kill Brenda?” he demanded, horrified. “But why? What for?”

Raking a hand through her hair, Nancy explained, “The accident with the beam happened the day Brenda ran that phony letter in her column. I think seeing that letter upset someone.”

She took a deep breath before saying, “It's only a guess, but if you ask me, all these accidents are further proof that there really
is
a murder scheme. Whoever's behind it thinks Brenda knows about it, so now he or she's trying to kill her, too!”

O
H, NO
!” Brenda wailed, burying her face in her hands. “I've got a murderer after me!”

Rick put his arms around Brenda and stroked her hair, but his attention was still focused on Nancy. “You're serious, aren't you?”

Nancy nodded.

“You think it's my uncle.” It was a statement, not a question. “He really
is
trying to kill my aunt. And now he thinks Brenda knows, so he's trying to kill her, too.” Rick's brilliant green eyes were troubled.

“There's no proof that it's your uncle,” Nancy said cautiously. “At this point, for all we know it could be someone we've never even heard of. But from what you've told me about your aunt and uncle, and from what Ned and I found out about their insurance policies, it
seems reasonable to start our investigation with them.”

Brenda raised her head and glanced nervously over her shoulder. “I feel very exposed out here,” she complained. “The murderer could be lurking right now, waiting for another chance to get me!”

Nancy grimaced at Brenda's overly dramatic flair, but she had to admit the reporter had a point.

“Why don't we go inside,” Nancy suggested. “We can discuss what to do next over some cold drinks.”

The four trooped inside the big white house, ■ and Brenda directed the maid to bring a tray of sodas to the den.

Unlike the rest of the house, the den had a warm, lived-in feeling. The furniture was mismatched but cozy looking, and the big desk was cluttered with papers and books. A few framed college degrees and journalism awards hung on the walls, and Nancy guessed this was where Brenda's father, Frazier Carlton, worked.

Ned collapsed gratefully into a deep, well-worn armchair. “Whew, the air conditioning feels fantastic,” he said, wiping his brow. Then, looking at Nancy, he asked, “So what's the plan?”

“We need evidence to prove our theory,” Nancy began. She sat in another chair while
Brenda and Rick plopped down on a leather couch. “There are several things we should be doing. I think—if it's okay with everyone—that we should divide up the tasks and work in teams.”

“Rick and I will work together,” Brenda said immediately.

“Brenda, I'm sorry,” said Nancy. “But you can't be on any of the teams.”

“What?” Brenda cried. “Are you still trying to get back at me for that phony letter, Nancy?”

“No,” Nancy said, trying not to lose her patience. “Someone has already arranged at least one, maybe two deadly ‘accidents' for you, Brenda. We have to assume the person is going to try again. Your best protection is to stay put and not get yourself into even more danger.”

“Nancy's right,” Rick said to Brenda. “You are in danger. We can't risk losing you.”

Brenda's eyes had been flashing angrily while Nancy spoke, but at Rick's words she calmed down, obviously touched by his concern.

The maid came in with their refreshments just then. After she left, Nancy went on. “Rick, you're our inside man at the Keatings' house,” she said. “You have two jobs. One is to keep an eye on your aunt and make sure nothing happens to her. The other is to find out what
you can about your uncle. Does he have a study?”

Rick nodded. “He does a lot of work at home.”

“Check it out,” Nancy told him. “There may be a paper trail—you know, records or documents that prove he's got serious money problems.”

“Got it,” Rick said eagerly. ,

Nancy leaned back in the chair and stretched her long legs out in front of her. “I think I'll call Bess and George in on this, too,” she said. “They can go around to Mrs. Keating's hairdresser and places like that and scout out some gossip on her.” She held up a hand to silence Rick, who was looking indignant. “You'd be surprised at how much people know about other people's private concerns,” she said. “We may learn something useful.”

Ned swallowed some soda and set his glass down. “What about you and me, Nan?” he asked.

“Don't worry,” Nancy told him, smiling. “I have it all figured out.” She turned to Rick. “Do you know where your aunt's car was towed after the accident with Brenda?”

He thought for a moment. “A place called Westlake Auto, I'm pretty sure.”

“Is it still there?” Nancy asked.

Rick nodded. “It should be. They aren't scheduled to start work on it until tomorrow. Why?”

“Because that's where Brenda's car is going for repairs,” Nancy told him.

“I don't use Westlake,” Brenda protested.

“For now, you do,” Nancy told her, grinning. “Have the car brought in under my name. That'll give Ned and me a chance to get in and look at Mrs. Keating's brakes.”

“I don't see why
I
couldn't do that,” Brenda muttered sulkily. “It wouldn't be dangerous.”

“Too risky,” Nancy said firmly. Turning to Ned, she said, “We'd better go. There's nothing more we can do tonight, and anyway, we're late for dinner.”

As they were leaving, Nancy looked back at Brenda. The pretty brunette was standing on the porch with Rick, watching them go. Nancy didn't miss the determined, rebellious expression on Brenda's face.

Uh-oh. She's going to make trouble before this case is over, Nancy thought. I just know it.

• • •

Nancy cradled the receiver of her phone between her chin and shoulder and dialed George's number. Then she sat back on her bed, counting the rings until her friend answered.

“Hi,” she said when George picked up after the third one.

“Hey, Nan. Great timing. Bess is over, and she's dying to talk to you!”

“What for?” Nancy asked.

“Uh, I think she wants to tell you herself,”
George warned, laughing. Then her voice became fainter as she said, “Okay, okay, I'm giving you the phone! Stop grabbing.”

“What's going on?” Nancy asked.

“I'll tell you what's going on,” came Bess's voice over the line. “I had a date with David Park last night! Did you get my message?”

“Oh!” Suddenly Nancy remembered Hannah's giving her the message from Bess the day before. She'd been so preoccupied with the case that she had totally forgotten to return Bess's call the night before. “Oh, Bess, I'm sorry,” she said sincerely. “I got it. I just had a lot on my mind.”

“Mmmm. I'm not surprised,” Bess replied. “I could see it coming the other night at the concert. You have a new case, don't you?”

“Guilty,” Nancy admitted with a laugh.

“So—what is this case?” Bess asked.

Nancy could hear George's voice faintly in the background. “A new case? Tell her to come over and fill us in, pronto. She's not about to do anything without our help!”

A warm feeling spread through Nancy. She could always count on Bess and George. They were the greatest!

“I'll tell you about it in a second,” she said to Bess. “But first, I want to hear all the details of your date!”

• • •

“So what do we do, Nan?” Ned whispered.

“I'm not sure,” Nancy admitted. She
stepped around a heap of oily engine parts, carefully holding the hem of her white dress away from them. “I guess we'll have to improvise.”

It was ten-thirty in the morning, and Nancy and Ned were standing by Brenda's car, amid a hum of activity, at Westlake Auto. Ned had taken the morning off so that he could go with Nancy to check out the brakes on Mrs. Keating's car.

Nancy frowned, considering. “We can't just tell the mechanic we suspect the brakes were sabotaged,” she said quietly. “He'll think we're crazy!”

She straightened away from Ned as a harassed-looking man in stained white coveralls walked toward them, wiping his hands on a rag. The name Ernie was embroidered on a patch on his chest.

“Can I help you folks?” the man asked.

“Yes. Uh, I'm Nancy Drew,” she began hesitantly. “I—”

The mechanic interrupted her, scowling. “Oh, you're the one who owns this car. Look, I didn't appreciate your attitude on the phone yesterday.”

What was he talking about? Nancy wondered. Then she realized Brenda must have said something rude to the guy. “But I—she began again.

Ernie cut her off. “I'm sorry, but there's no way I'll be able to get to your car before tomorrow.” He waved a hand at the crowded
shop. “You can see how backed up we are. We're so busy I can't even keep track of what my men are doing.”

The place did seem a little frantic. Men in white Westlake Auto coveralls hurried back and forth among dozens of cars in the huge space. As she looked around, Nancy had an idea.

She was wearing white, too. If Ned could keep Ernie occupied, she could find Mrs. Keating's car and look at the brakes. In the bustle the odds were that no one would notice her.

“Oh, but you
have
to fix the car today,” she whined. “We need it.” She grasped Ned's arm possessively. “Today is our one-year anniversary, and this is the car that we rode in on our very first date. We have such a big day planned, and if I don't get to ride in this car
today,
I'll just have a
fit!”
She squeezed Ned's arm. “Honey, can't you talk to him?”

Ned glanced down at her in surprise, and Nancy gave him a discreet kick on the ankle.

“Er—that's right,” Ned said quickly. He leaned toward Ernie, lowering his voice. “Let me tell you, you don't want to be around this girl when she's having a fit. It's not a pretty sight.” Looking back at Nancy, he shot her a quick wink.