Authors: Carolyn Keene

Make No Mistake (15 page)

BOOK: Make No Mistake

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“Yes, I think you're right, Nancy,” Carson Drew said.

“In other words,” said George, “he couldn't believe in anything Loomis hadn't prepared him for.”

“Well put, George,” said Nancy's father. “Think of Loomis as the trainer and Gary Page as a racehorse.”

“A racehorse that finally tripped on a hurdle,” said Nancy.

There was a giggle from Bess before she put in, “A hurdle shaped like a football and iced in white and purple.”

At that moment the phone rang. Nancy went to answer it.

“Hi, Nan,” came Ned's voice. “Sorry to call so late, but no one was at your place all day except Hannah.”

Nancy felt a familiar warm tingle at the sound of his voice. “It was one of those days,” she told him.

“One of what days? What happened?” he asked. “You sound a little tired.”

There was so much to explain. “It's a long story,” she said into the phone. “And I've got company. I'll call you back and tell you everything as soon as Bess and George leave, okay?”

She talked with him a few more minutes, then said goodbye and hung up. When she returned to the living room, Bess and George were eating chocolate-chip cookies from a plate on the low table in front of the sofa.

“Solving cases with Nancy always makes me so hungry,” Bess said, biting into one of the chewy cookies.

Nancy was reaching for a cookie herself when her father commented, “I'm sure there'll be some interesting reading in the papers tomorrow.”

Bess sat up on the sofa. “About how we caught the criminals?”

“No,” Carson replied. “About Mr. Glover's will. Now that nobody's contesting it, the information can be published.”

“Since the ban of secrecy has been lifted,” Nancy said to her father, “can you tell us who's going to get all that money?”

Carson Drew pulled a sheet of paper from his jacket pocket and unfolded it. “As a matter of fact, I have a copy of the press release that's going to the media.” He began to read aloud.

“ââThe will of Clayton Glover leaves his magnificent residence, Glover's Corners, to the town of River Heights. It is to be used as a historical museum and gathering place for citizens of the community. In an unusual move, Glover's will dictates that the grounds of his estate be turned into a park and that the pond be used for ice skating in season.'â”

“Way to go, Mr. Glover,” George said, clapping her hands.

Carson glanced at the girls and smiled. “ââThe entire complex will be called the Matthew Glover
Park,'â” he went on,” “ââin memory of Mr. Glover's son, who was killed five years ago on a skiing holiday in Colorado.'â”

Carson then skimmed over the names of the local charities who would receive money. As Nancy had known, Giralda's Environmental Action was on the list.

“Great,” said Nancy when her father told them the annual sum Tony would receive. “Now he'll be able to expand and get the help he deserves.”

“Let's hear it for Fred and Max!” George shouted.

“What about Mrs. Adams?” Bess asked.

“A trust fund is to be set up for her,” Carson assured the girls. “Mr. Glover mentioned special thanks to her for her faithful service. The press release also mentions Matt.” He read again from the paper. “ââNone of these bequests would have been possible if Mr. Glover's son, who would be twenty-three, had lived. We can only speculate as to how Matthew Glover would have used the vast wealth his father would have left to him.'â”

Carson refolded the paper and looked up. “That's it.”

A deep silence followed. Nancy looked at Bess, who wore a thoughtful expression. Nancy hoped hearing about Matt hadn't upset her too much.

“Well,” Bess said at last, “something good came out of all this.”

“Definitely,” George agreed. “Mr. Glover
made it possible for the good old days to go on forever.”

Bess shook her head. “That's not what I meant, although it's certainly a good thing.”

“What
did
you mean, Bess?” Nancy asked.

“The real Matt Glover might still be wandering around with amnesia,” Bess said. Grinning, she reached for another chocolate-chip cookie. “He could still come home.”

George rolled her eyes in disbelief, but Nancy reached out and hugged Bess. “You know what?” she said. “You're probably right.”

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.