Nancy Clue Mysteries 2 - The Case of the Good-for-Nothing Girlfriend (26 page)

"I've got to think, only everything's such a muddle right now!" For the first time in her life, she was mystified as to what to do next.

"Another drink," she called out. She turned up her nose at the bowl of pickled eggs the bartender slid in front of her instead.

"You're going to need something to soak up those martinis," the woman pointed out, using the low, soothing tone she kept for the very young or very drunk. "This girl is a bit of both," she decided. "But she's not a regular. Not in this bar, at any rate. She does look awfully familiar, though," the bartender thought, puzzling over the identity of the girl in the chiffon scarf and dark glasses. But she couldn't place her.

"And I would have remembered her," she concluded, trying not to stare at the attractive girl perched precariously on the edge of her bar stool.

When Nancy got up to leave she was surprised to find her legs were all wobbly and were threatening to give way. "Why, I've had this much to drink many times and not had any trouble," she thought as she plopped into a chair to catch her breath. The bartender brought her a cup of coffee, which Nancy accepted gratefully. She sipped it slowly, and soon her cheeks were rosy again and her head had stopped spinning.

The bar began filling up with the noon crowd, buzzing excitedly about that morning's courtroom proceedings.

"Golly, this trial's going to be the most exciting thing to happen all summer!" a girl cried. "Weren't we lucky to get seats for the jury selection?"

"Why, I've never seen the courtroom so packed. There were reporters from all over. What a sight," her chum remarked.

Tears stung Nancy's eyes. "I must get to Hannah and let her know that I'm going to get her out of jail," Nancy thought urgently. But how?

She pulled her chiffon scarf close to her face and prepared to make her escape. But on the way out the door, she overheard something that made her gasp.

"It's too bad Miss Gruel's been assigned Gerald Gloon to defend her. Why, everyone knows he's just about the worst lawyer this side of the Mississippi," Nancy heard a woman exclaim.

Her companion nodded. "I overheard Chief Chumley telling Bailiff Brown that the housekeeper's goose is cooked for sure!"

"But the Chief couldn't have been in the courtroom," Nancy wanted to cry. "He's gone fishing." She realized someone was trying to keep her from talking to the Chief. But who? She raced out of the bar, jumped in her car, and headed once again for the police station. Her ears were buzzing with the dreadful things she had heard. Would she be able to save Hannah after all?

She would find a way to get to the Chief. She just had to!

"Well, if it isn't my dear Miss Clue," Chief Chumley exclaimed as he hastily shut and locked the middle drawer of his desk upon spying Nancy-a rather disheveled Nancy, for she had had to climb in the back window of the washroom and then pick the lock on the Chief's door in order to gain access to his inner sanctum. The deputy had sworn the Chief was miles away by now, but Nancy had seen his car parked behind the station, between a dusty brown Impala and an old elm tree, and decided to take matters into her own hands.

Luckily, the girl sleuth had never met a lock that was a match for a good, strong bobby pin!

For a moment, the Chief looked surprised to see Nancy, but he quickly regained his composure. "Nancy, how are you?" the Chief cried warmly as he quickly closed the dusty old leather-bound tome in front of him, jumped up, and gave his favorite young sleuth a hearty handshake.

"It's so good to see you!" Nancy cried in relief as she sank into an overstuffed leather wingback chair and wiped her brow. She had sat in this chair many a time, puzzling over particularly perplexing mysteries with the Chief. It was good to be home.

"Your deputy insisted you're away on a fishing expedition," Nancy informed him. "I had to sneak in the back way," she explained, gesturing at her smudged suit and torn stockings.

"Now why would anyone say I was away fishing?" The Chief looked puzzled.

Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was going to be okay!

"Now Nancy, what's on your mind?" the Chief asked in a friendly manner as he took a seat behind his massive oak desk. Nancy thrilled to the sound of his words. That was what the Chief always said when she came to him for help or to give him a clue she had dug up.

"I've got a case to crack and I need your help, Chief," Nancy joked back. "It's the case of the mistakenly imprisoned housekeeper."

Chief Chumley smiled. "Always chasing some mystery, eh, Nancy?"

Nancy grinned. "You should know, Chief," she joshed back. "You've been my partner in crime all these years." Her voice grew grim. She leaned forward and said, "Seriously, Chief, what gives? I expected to see Hannah home by now."

The Chief looked genuinely confused.

"When I called you from Wyoming two days ago and you promised to release Hannah, I assumed you would do so immediately," Nancy continued. "Before the trial began."

Chief Chumley lit his pipe, leaned back in his chair, and stared at Nancy. "I received no telephone call from you," he said in a flat, stern tone. "Why, I haven't heard hide nor hair of you since we wrapped up the case we were working on several weeks before your poor father's death."

Nancy could scarcely believe her ears. "Oh, why did I have two drinks?" she scolded herself. "Now nothing is making any sense! I must not be saying it right," she thought.

"I did call you, Chief!" Nancy insisted. "Remember? I told you that I killed Father. You weren't at all angry with me. In fact, you agreed yourself it was the only thing I could have done, given the circumstances."

"What on earth are you talking about?" the Chief thundered, his watery blue eyes flashing with anger. He jumped up and pounded his fist on the book in front of him.

"That book has the queerest title," Nancy thought. Exotic Entomology Made Easy. When the Chief caught Nancy staring at the book, he quickly turned over the tome and mumbled something about a roach problem in the jail cells.

"If this is some crazy attempt to take the heat off Hannah, it's not going to work," the Chief admonished. "Why, we've got enough evidence to put her away for a long, long time. While I'm impressed you would go so such lengths to free Hannah, this is one scheme of yours that isn't going to work, Nancy."

"This isn't a scheme, Chief Chumley. It's the truth," Nancy gasped in indignation. She jumped out of her chair but quickly fell back when the room began to spin before her eyes. "I told you on the phone.. .my father ...he...it was justifiable homicide!"

"Just as I suspected," the Chief said. "You're drunk, aren't you Nancy? Drunk and imagining all sorts of ridiculous things. Your father was the most upstanding citizen River Depths has ever known. Everybody knows that."

He perched his stocky frame on the edge of his massive oak desk and clasped Nancy's soft, small hands between his large, thick ones.

"Now, you mustn't run around telling wild stories," the Chief chided her. "I think some little girl had too much sherry at luncheon," he said with a wink.

He buzzed for his assistant on his intercom.

"Miss Clue isn't feeling well," Chief Chumley informed his second-in-command, Deputy Dwight Drone. "Deputy Drone, take Miss Clue to Dr. Fraud for a thorough examination," the Chief ordered.

"Oh, no!" Nancy cried. "Chief, you've got to listen to me. You don't understand."

"I understand, Nancy," Chief Chumley replied calmly. "The strain of your father's death and Hannah's trial has caused you to think things that couldn't possibly be true. Why, I hear crazy stories like this all the time. But do they ever check out?"

In answer to his own question, he sadly shook his head.

"And you know why these stories never check out, Nancy?" the Chief said softly.

Nancy shook her head. She was too stunned to do anything more.

"Because there's never any evidence!" Chief Chumley hissed as he leaned forward and peered knowingly into the young sleuth's eyes.

Nancy stared back at the Chief in horror. Tears puddled up in her bright blue eyes. "But my evidence was stolen!" she wanted to blurt out, but she didn't get the chance. Chief Chumley escorted Nancy and the deputy through the station house and out the door.

"If I were you, I wouldn't attempt to tell such horrible lies." He squeezed her arm hard enough to cause Nancy to cry out in pain. "No one would believe you."

With that, Chief Chumley firmly guided Nancy into the back seat of the patrol car and slammed the door shut.

"Where could she be?" Cherry wailed as she gingerly slipped her swollen feet into a pan of hot water. They'd been all over River Depths-but no Nancy! "Why, we've been to the police station, the courthouse, and all of Nancy's favorite dress shops," she exclaimed. "Lauren, are you sure that when you managed to slip into the courtroom you didn't see Nancy?" Cherry quizzed the young girl for the tenth time that hour. Lauren assured her that Nancy had not been there. Cherry slumped dejectedly in her chair. "There's nothing we can do but wait," she sighed.

Velma put a kettle of water on the stove to make coffee.

"I'm starved!" Bess exclaimed, as she rummaged through the icebox for something to eat. "Here's some cheddar cheese, and I know there's a whole loaf of bread in the bread box," she planned out loud. "Yummy. Grilled cheese!"

"Sounds great," Midge said. "Let's eat and then plan our next move."

Although Cherry was certain she was much too worried to eat, she quickly changed her mind when she smelled the scent of fresh coffee and the delicious aroma of bubbling cheese wafting from the grill. "Nourishment will help me think more clearly," she decided, tucking a linen napkin over the collar of her dress as Bess put a platter of sizzling sandwiches on the table.

"These are great," Lauren said, gulping her sandwich in three bites. Bess passed her another. "There are two apiece, and I can make more," she said.

Cherry did feel a little better after devouring two of the savory sandwiches, but not much. She was still awfully worried about the whereabouts of her chum. "Where could Nancy be?" Cherry worried aloud. She checked her watch. "It's almost supper time. What if there's been an accident and Nancy's wan dering around hurt and dazed? What if she doesn't even remember her name? I hope she's carrying proper identification."

"If that's the case, someone's bound to recognize her," Midge said, trying to calm down the frightened nurse. "She won't get far, not with the way her picture's been splashed all over the evening newspaper."

News had traveled fast that River Depths' favorite daughter was back in town. The River Depths Defender carried a front-page interview with Mrs. Milton Meeks.

"Fearless Socialite Pays Call to Horror House," the headline read. And on the society page was an announcement of the engagement between Nancy Clue and Frank Hardly!

Cherry heard footsteps on the back porch. "Maybe that's Nancy now!" she cried. She dried her feet, slipped into her shoes, and raced to the door, prepared to jump into Nancy's arms. "First a hug, and then a good scolding," she smiled to herself. "Darling, you're home!" Cherry cried as she flung open the door, threw open her arms, and flung herself at her intended. She was shocked to find the recipient of her embrace was a stout older woman, primly attired in a worsted gray suit and a ridiculous little gray felt hat decorated with blue-jay feathers that now sat all askew on her tidy brown curls. In her hands was a casserole dish covered with a blue-checked dish towel. On her face was the most astonished expression.

"It's meat loaf a la king," was all the woman could say.

Cherry turned beet red. "I thought you were someone else," she said shyly.

Bess recognized their visitor. It was Mrs. Thaddeus Tweeds, the president of the Women's Club, a Patroness of the Arts, and a close friend of Bess's mother.

"Hello, Mrs. Tweeds," Bess said, reaching out to help her with her dish. "Won't you come in?"

"Hello, Bettina, dear," Mrs. Tweeds replied as she stepped into the kitchen. "I tried the front door, but no one answered. I saw George's car outside, so I knew someone had to be at home." She took her compact from her patent-leather purse, gave her nose a good dusting, and then spent a few minutes fussing with her hat until she was satisfied with the results. When she was through primping, she gave the group a good looking over. Her eyes lit up when she spied Midge. "You must be Frank Hardly," she gushed, offering one tiny gloved hand. "Congratulations!" she squealed.